"Am I making you uncomfortable, lass?"
He figured from the fact that she had already finished her entire glass of wine that she was. There was also the telltale blush that made her even more comely.
"Oh, no, I'm very used to getting such panty-dropping compliments from Scottish noblemen."
He had also learned that she reverted to sarcasm when she was flustered. Though, the term 'panty-dropping' was new. And intriguing.
"You don't receive compliments from men?" He had a hard time believing that.
She eyed her goblet as Effie refilled it. "Not of that ilk."
"What sort then?" He was genuinely curious, wondering if his seduction technique was outdated. Perhaps he had taken the wrong approach.
Jamie chuckled. "I mean, a man has never told me I was beautiful before. Not like that. Men have told me I was hot, they've told me they want to… sleep with me." Her gaze shyly met his.
If she was asking if he felt the same, his answer was a definitive 'yes.'
Kane suddenly felt a lot better about his odds of wooing this American lass. If he heard her correctly, men of this time were not very successful at romancing women. He didn't doubt it. In his time, a woman of her beauty would have been married off or snatched by a man of serious means who would probably go to great lengths to have her. Clans had fought wars over women in earlier times, and he suspected that he would have easily killed another for her hand. Hell, he'd been ready to take on another werewolf just the other day.
The belief was that the prize would be well worth the battle. As he gazed upon her, he had no doubts that were true.
"Did those attempts work?"
A pink flush suffused her skin again and she looked away momentarily. "Not really."
Even though she had answered in the negative, Kane found himself wanting to know about the men in her life. Did she have a beau? Just the idea filled him with jealousy he had never experienced, a furious desire to take down any competition. It was so deep he could feel his beast rise inside to the challenge. And the beast never threatened to come out unless he was experiencing intense emotion.
Even so, he had to ask, "Is there anyone waiting for you, lass?"
Her eyes met his and she shook her head. "No."
He internally breathed a sigh of relief. At least he did not have to worry about that.
"But you know I'm not staying here in Scotland." Did she look disappointed? "At the end of the summer, I'm going back to the States. No boyfriend, but I do have a family."
Yes, he conveniently seemed to forget that. "Aye. You've more family than just your parents?"
"Two brothers and a sister. My sister is still in high school, my younger brother is in college, and my older brother is in Austin, living with his girlfriend."
"Eldest girl then?"
Her lips curled a little. "Isn't it obvious?"
Aye, it was. She was spunky, confident, and unafraid of forging her own path ahead. He was starting to enjoy those traits.
"What about you?" she asked. "I know your parents are gone but don't you have any other family?"
He had no idea how to explain why he had no family left without giving away his most guarded secret. It had been a cruel fact of life that many children never made it to adulthood when he was young, but it was terribly uncommon now. She would have a hard time accepting that both his sisters had died so young and that Ian had died later on. Modern Westerners did not live with such death threatening them. But he had watched every person in his life die. As time marched on and he stayed frozen in immortality, his tenants were born, married, had children, and then died in an endless cycle that Sorcha had excluded him from five centuries ago. Everyone he loved and cared about had gone past him, and here he remained, stuck with nothing but his castle and his memories. Even Jamie would grow old. The thought filled him with a cold emptiness that made him squirm.
"All of my siblings have left," he fudged. "It's only me left here."
Now he was drinking his wine to avoid the topic at hand.
Yet again, the lass looked upon him with compassion and earnestness, neither of which he was used to. As a laird, he had been raised with the expectation that he had a responsibility to everyone around him. As such, they expected certain things from him: protection, leadership, and sustenance. Before his curse, his family had expected him to marry and carry on the family name through his own children who would eventually do the same. His life had never been his own; it wasn't supposed to be. His duty was to his clan, family, people, and faith. That came with certain privileges but even those could be burdensome. He had never yearned for power. Like most young men, he'd merely wanted food in his belly, a woman in his bed, and respect from those he cared about. He had never dreamed about meeting someone, especially a woman, who could actually feel for him.
The thought made him uncomfortable as if Jamie had been the one to walk in on him naked. He deserved none of her compassion. Because of his foolishness, he had brought nothing but pain and death upon his family and his people. If he had been dutiful and done as was expected, Sorcha would have never cursed him. And people would have never died.
Stiffening, he began to focus on his meal and tried not to notice how the silence was beginning to make Jamie turn away as if she felt rejected. He knew she must have expected another intimate moment such as the one they had just minutes before, and he hated himself for causing her disappointment. But the last thing he needed to do was invite the girl to delve deeper.
Kane felt dejected as the night waned and the conversation turned from playful and intimate to formal and stilted. All because he had erected a wall between them. The same one he often put up between himself and his community.
He could not help but feel as if he had missed an opportunity.
When dinner ended, he helped Jamie up to her room. He had offered to carry her but she leaned on his shoulder for support instead, opting to walk as much as she could. He also suspected that she was just as disappointed with how the night had ended as he was.
"Thank you for dinner, my laird," she said once he got them to the door. He'd offered to take her to the bed but she insisted on hobbling over herself. Her eyes were no longer meeting his.
Yes, he'd definitely missed an opportunity.
Grasping for straws, he tried another tactic. "Would you still like to see the library, lass?"
Her eyes widened. "Um, yeah, of course."
"How about tomorrow morning then?"
He fought the urge to smile at the look that lit up her face. He was shocked at how much it warmed him.
"Y-yes. You'll let me look through it? I mean, this could really help me, Murdock."
He would have to make sure he went through the library before her so he could remove any incriminating documents, but suddenly, any endeavor felt worth it if he could make her smile again.
"Aye, lass. I'll come to fetch you around 9."
She nodded, her gaze softening as he began to take his leave.
"Good night, my laird."
He looked back and felt his chest almost burst with a warmth he had not felt in centuries.
"Sleep well, lass."
____________________________________________________________________________
"So sweet of you, Mary. I know the lass will be much obliged."
Mary MacDonald smiled as best as she could when she handed the pot of soup and fresh flowers over to Catrina. It had taken all night for her to muster the courage to come to Murdock Castle and actually deliver the witch's brew. But she knew if she did not do it soon, the witch would make good on her threat.
"Well, we all just want the best for the lass. Just feel terrible what's befallen her."
Technically not a lie. Sorcha had told Mary the soup would help heal the girl's ankle so she could leave, but Mary could not help but wonder if there was more to the recipe than that.
"Aye." Catrina filled a vase with flowers and placed it on the kitchen table. "She's had the stretch of bad luck, she has. But maybe it's for the best."
"Oh?"
Catrina gazed wistfully at the bouquet. "I've never seen the Laird so… full of life. I think he's quite taken with the girl."
Exactly what the witch feared. "And the girl herself?"
Catrina gave Mary a conspiratorial grin. "I think she's not as immune to the laird's charms as she'd like to pretend. Actually, they're in the library as we speak."
Mary's gut pinched. She'd also been tasked with returning to the witch and sharing any information she could gather. And she knew that piece would only make Sorcha more determined.
"I really think this might be the one after all."
Catrina's sigh shook Mary out of her musings. "The one?"
Catrina nodded. "The one to end this terrible curse once and for all. Christ knows that the Laird has done his penance. The man deserves some happiness after all these years."
Mary cursed herself again for chasing after that little fox.
____________________________________________________________________________
"The Celtic Languages. From Chiefs to Landlords. Clanship to Crofters' War… Yeah, some of these are good. But do you have anything specific to this area?"
The Laird climbed one of his stools and reached up to peruse another bookshelf, one of the many that he had combed through in an effort to help Jamie during the past couple hours.
She was knee-deep in her research world, huddled at the large, mahogany desk which was already piled sky-high with books. Effie had already refilled her coffee and her sheet pad of paper was brimming with notes. She had looked through his books on ancient Celtic religion and had moved on to broader Scottish history. It was all vital, helpful information but she still needed something particular. Something to help her crack the mystery of Gealach Lán.
"Maybe something about the local clans," she added, looking up to see that the Laird was already grabbing several tomes.
Despite being in her comfortable, nerdy world, she couldn't help but watch him as he lithely climbed up the stool. His strength was graceful, his muscular legs working beneath the fabric of his black trews. She'd never really thought a man's thighs could be such a huge turn-on, but it was definitely working for her. Power radiated from every part of him. His bulging arms, his thick chest, even his large hands which she watched as they flipped through the pages of books. The profile of his jaw and strong chin, tight with concentration as he studied the pages carefully, was stark and masculine. And goddamn, why did he have to wear that shirt that showed off the tantalizing chest hair at the top?
Usually, nothing could distract Jamie from studying. She'd been called a monk several times. But all morning she had struggled to stay on task, jumping between the books in front of her and the very gorgeous, very complex man across from her.
She wanted to study his secrets. He had been so vague about his family, not willing to delve into what happened to the rest of them. Had they all died? Was he an outcast? A time-traveler? The theories ran wild in her mind, especially after his demeanor had changed so abruptly at dinner. One minute he had been flirty and seductive, coaxing her into letting her guard down so she could imagine what it would be like to explore this insane chemistry between them further. The way he had talked to her… God, women dreamed of shit like that. But then he had suddenly turned stony and short. All of the warmth and excitement she had felt with him had disappeared once he had retreated into his cold formality.
Then he had surprised her again. Just when she thought that perhaps she had crossed a line and ruined any chance of connecting with him, he had extended this olive branch. She had broken her ankle over this stupid library, and now they were in it together, searching for anything that would help her finish her thesis.
Of course, there was a chance that he was in here helping her because he wanted to control what she found. She'd begun to suspect that the reason he had reacted so intensely was that the library itself held secrets. It was an established fact that he and the town were hiding key details, and as laird, he probably had access to those secrets. Proof. Giving her controlled access was a perfect way of simultaneously appeasing her and guarding the truth.
Still, if it meant that she could actually get some more data on Gealach Lán, then she figured it was better than nothing. Plus, the thought of doing nothing all day again was horrifying.
This could work for now.
"What about primary sources?" she asked. When he gave her a puzzled frown, she added, "Like accounting ledgers, diaries, letters? Anything from your grandparents or older?"
He paused for a moment and returned to one of the back shelves, pulling out an ancient-looking heap of yellowed papers. It wasn't a book by any means, more like a barely bound pack of various papers. Some looked as if they were on the verge of disintegrating.
"I'll take a look through these," he said as he sat in a large, overstuffed chair across from her.
She itched to get her hands on those documents. "Do you need help?"
He looked at her almost as if in warning. "No."
Figured. Those documents looked like the sort of thing Jamie needed. She'd already spent the first year of her program reading everything she could on Scotland. Now she needed the good stuff.
"You know, one of the universities would probably love to have some of those." She nodded towards his stack. "Bet you could get a big tax write-off."
He grunted in acknowledgment.
Okay, option two. "Do you have a secretary or assistant that helps you keep track of all this stuff?"
It was a beautiful library but rather messy and disorganized. Books were strewn over every surface and there was no sign of a computer or filing cabinet.
His tone was gruff. "Don't need one."
Clearly. "You don't think someone like Deidra or Catrina could help out with all this?"
"What's your point, lass?"
"This castle is a treasure trove of artifacts and primary sources, not just the library. I think you could turn this place into a historical site or you could grant access to all of this incredible material. Hell, you could probably make some extra money off of it too."
He abruptly stopped reading the document he had been looking over and stuffed the pile beside him on the chair.
"I'm not interested in bringing any attention to this place, lass. I thought that was rather obvious."
She could not help herself. "Why?"
Something flashed in his gaze and she saw his jaw tick. "I'm a private man, lass."
Yeah, that was the shock of the century. Jamie suddenly remembered what her mom had said to her when she found her parents' stack of 'toys' in their closet when she was ten: "curiosity killed the cat, Jamie." But what if the curiosity was worth the kill?
"You know, the more cryptic you are the more you invite me to dig."
Something else replaced the look in his eyes which had gone hooded. "Well, that depends on what you want to dig into, lass."
She suddenly felt her mouth go dry. Damn it, he was good.