She was more confident, maybe. But was she desirable?

She studied Aidan’s mouth as he licked the last of the pudding from his spoon. Would he relish her kisses as much as he relished a simple spoonful of pudding? Would his lips and tongue be slow and deliberate, luxuriating in every taste? She shivered.

“You’re cold.” He shook his head, scraping the last of the bowl. “And look at me, taking my time.”

“I’m not cold.” She realized she’d licked her bottom lip suggestively, and she bit it, wondering when she’d become so wicked. “Not cold at all, I assure you.”

“But it’s late, and you’ve been too kind.” He put down the bowl and stood to fetch his boots. “Come, then, luvvie. I’ll walk you home.”

“Thank you, Aidan,” she said, her voice clear and bright. She rose, standing tall, her chin lifted. She would be resolute, acting more the heroine than ever.

Because she had questions about his kisses, and she was determined to get answers.

Chapter 14

“I still don’t understand why that boy is working on our farm.” Elspeth’s father stoked the fire with a vengeance.

Elspeth prayed he wasn’t imagining Aidan on the other end of the poker. “He’s not a boy. Aidan’s a man.” The words sent a shiver along her skin.

Her father grunted in response. “Humph. Man, boy … whatever he is, why does he have to come here?”

Refusing to face her father in anger, she squinted at her balance sheet instead. “You’re blocking my light, Da,” she said, shooing him aside with the sort of distracted patience born of living with someone so vociferously opinionated.

He paced to stare out the window. “And he’s still here. It’s night, Elspeth.”

“It’s barely evening yet. Aidan’s been working hard fencing off pastureland for us, and this is the only time left available for our lessons. Unless you want that I should somehow spirit myself back and forth to Dunnottar before dawn each day?”

“Lessons.” Her father raked a hand through his wild white hair. “Why do you insist on this daft business anyway?”

Her stomach growled as though it would answer the question for her. Putting a hand to her belly, she said, “We need the money.”

“But he’s not paying.”

“I need the help, Da,” she said in a weary voice.

“You have me.”

Putting the papers down in her lap, she met his eye. “And you’re truly going to haul rock back and forth to build me a new fence? This so-called woolen business was your idea. I am merely the innocent and earnest executor of your wishes.”

His fuzzy white brows twitched. “What will folk think? I’m having a hard enough time of it finding a suit-able match for you, without some knave coming about to sully your reputation.”

“Aidan is no knave.” She was tired—beleaguered really—and turned her attention back to her papers, idly shuffling through the month’s accounts. Anything was better than thinking on the third-rate widowers her father had entertained as possible spouses for her. “He’s simply a good man who’s had the misfortune of a lifetime of bad luck.”

“I don’t understand why he needs to bandy his bad luck around our farm.”

“I told you.” She peered over the top of her papers. “Aidan and I are bartering my tutelage—”

“What kind of man can’t read?”

She dropped her hands in her lap. “What have you against him, anyway? It’s not as though we’re to marry.” A thrill shivered through her. Did Aidan want what other men had? Would he eventually find a wife, raise a son?

“Against him? What haven’t I against him? Angus will never ask for your hand with that gudgeon lurking about.”

She thought her head might explode from frustration. “Father, would you please listen when I tell you there’s nothing between Angus and me, nor will there ever be.”

He gave her a pinched look. “Well, there might be others, and I don’t want them getting scared off by that pirate.”

“Is that so? After all these years, we’re to have an influx of bachelors in want of a bride? And their only requirement, that she’s short on coin and long on books.” She jabbed a triumphant finger in the air. “Ah! Not to mention tooth, as in long of.”

Her father scowled. “It’s not just finding you a husband. That boy’s spent his life working among heathens, in a heathen land. Who knows what manner of woman he’s bred with? What poisons mayhap course through his blood, what seeds of evil planted in his brain?”

“Seeds of evil, Father? Really. You’re being an insular old cadger. Barbados is a British possession.”

“Not till recently it weren’t.”

“Well, it is now, and I’m certain it’s perfectly civilized.” She loved her father dearly, but when he was in a mood, there was no talking sense. Making a conscious effort to calm her breathing, she tilted the month’s tally toward the fire. A change of subject was in order. “The farm did well this month.” Thanks to Aidan, she thought, with a little flush of satisfaction.

He walked back to the fire, touching a long match to the flames. “It’s because I arranged to trade with Angus,” he said, sucking his pipe to life.

“No, Da.” She narrowed her eyes on him. “It’s because Aidan arranged with Angus to trade for milled oats instead of raw.”

He shrugged and spat into the fire. “Just means less oats.”

“It means we have something substantial with which to fill our bellies.” Her mood snapped back to life. Rarely did she talk back to her father, and her tone elicited a sliteyed stare.

“I told you, I don’t want that slave boy scaring off Angus.” He stormed back to the window, peering in the direction of Angus’s place, even though surrounding hills obstructed the view. “Angus Gunn is a good man, with a profitable farm.”

She sighed, dropping her papers onto her lap. “Either way, we’ve turned a profit for the first time in months. And you must trust me when I tell you, Aidan has been instrumental.”

“Here comes the devil now.” Her father ducked his head back in and slammed the shutters shut.

Elspeth’s pulse jumped. “Aidan?”

“Why does that man need to come here? Folk do call them devils, you know. Those MacAlpin children.”

“They’re far from children. And they seem to have managed well enough, through the years.” She smoothed her skirts, trying to still the trembling of her hands.

Her father went to the window on the other side of the door and gripped the shutter edge. He looked like he wished he could slam it right on Aidan’s face. “It’s not right that he comes here in the evening. It’s bad enough I have to see him at daybreak, shirtless as a pirate, flaunting those shameful scars.”

“Hush, Father.” Her cheeks burned with rage. “It’s not his fault he was kidnapped.”

He shook his head, tsking. “MacAlpin blood is sour, girl.”

She saw Aidan’s silhouette, approaching their doorstep. She frantically put a finger to her lips, trying to silence him. “Hush! You hush now, Da.”

But he only crossed his arms at his chest, no sign of stopping. “They’ve always run about like a pack of demons.”

“Hush,” she hissed, feeling the agony of it. Why did her father persist in being so dreadfully opinionated?

“It mightn’t have been his fault he was taken,” he continued, “but it was his mother’s fault, letting those children run about so.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say.” She wished he’d close the shutters. Aidan’s shadow was at the door now. “Please, Da. He’s a good man. It’s a good family. You just stop now.”

“Don’t shush me, lass. Someone needs to spare my only daughter from blackguards like that MacAlpin.”

“I will shush you, so long as you persist with these ridiculous assertions.” Her whispers had turned venomous, shocking for a girl who’d always prided herself on being tractable, obedient, and respectful. “You’re being prejudiced and narrow-minded.”

There was a knock at the door, and she froze. Neither of them moved to answer it.

Her father scowled at her, visibly taken aback. “You can use all the fancy words in the world, lass, but mark this: if Aidan MacAlpin hadn’t been as filthy and classless as an urchin, he’d never have been mistaken for one.”

The door opened as her father had spoken the words, revealing Aidan standing there, rigid as a statue. He glared unabashedly at her father and said, “The urchin has arrived for his lesson.”

Chapter 15

Achilles ran to the door, wagging madly, and Aidan bent to give him a distracted pat on his head. Satisfied, the dog went to the fire, turned a few circles, and plopped down, dropping into a sound and instant sleep.

Aidan looked at Elspeth, his face softening. “Sorry to burst in, luvvie. I heard raised voices and was concerned for you.”

Relief washed over her like a cool wave. He wasn’t scared off by her father’s words. She could handle her father’s parochial ways, so long as she and Aidan were on the same side.

Her father sneered. “I’d never lay a hand on my daughter.”

“Then it seems we’ve something in common after all.” Aidan strode nonchalantly to the fire, making as though to warm his hands, though she could see by the sweat at his neck and arms that he was already warmed through.

Her father followed, standing behind him at the hearth. “You’re spending too much time ‘helping’ my daughter.”

Aidan turned to face him, towering over the much older man. “And you’re not spending enough time helping her.”

“Oh, hush, both of you.” Elspeth sprang from her chair and went to the sideboard, fetching a cup of milk. “Here,” she said, handing it to Aidan. “I’ve been cooling it in the shade.”