Love in the Time of a Highland Laird (A Laird for All Time Book 3) by Angeline Fortin (bill gates books to read .TXT) 📕

“Just once. A rapier through my side. Mother made nine stitches of it, I believe.”

“Of course there were nine to my eight. So competitive,” she teased. “What was it? A duel with an angry husband?”

“Nay, fencing lessons with Hugh,” he said with a grin. Lifting the tail of his shirt, he pointed to the scar left behind. Felt her gaze on his exposed flesh like a physical caress. He dropped his shirt and fell into a chair across from her. “The tip fell off his blade. We dinnae notice until it was too late.”

“Was he a better fencer than you?”

“Nay, only luckier.”

“Geez,” she said with a low chuckle. “You do arrogance better than anyone I’ve ever met.”

He winked and they laughed together.

With another sip and a sigh, she kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the sofa, cradling her tumbler. “What is with your family, Keir? I’m beginning to think they’re all half-cracked.”

Another of her curious terms. There’d been so many over the past few days, he had half a mind to begin cataloguing them into a sort of dictionary of future terms.

“Half-cracked?”

“Nuts. Bat shit crazy,” she said. “Maybe it runs in the family.”

“Are ye implying I’m… er, half-cracked as well?”

A little giggle escaped her. She took another drink of her Scotch. Ah, the joys of a superb whiskey. The old Scots proverb said, alcohol does not solve any problem but then, neither does milk. Though it seemed to be working for his sweet Al just then.

“No, you’re your own special brand of crazy.” She pointed her tumbler at him. “The academic. The one who voluntarily cracks the spine of text books for the fun of it.”

“Would yer own sanity nae be called intae question then as well?” he asked. She twirled a long lock of her hair around one finger. So distracting, he almost lost track of the conversation.

“Probably. But I don’t mind. I think I would’ve been a professional student if I could.”

“Professional student?”

She turned on her side to face him more fully. She hadn’t rolled onto her injured arm, at least, though she did wince slightly at the movement. Tucking her arm beneath her cheek, she curled her feet under her skirts. In all his days, he’d never had a conversation with a woman at her leisure like this. It felt comfortable. Intimate.

Chapter 18

Relaxed by the Scotch, Al curled up on the sofa and smiled at him. There he went, poking into her personal life again. This time she didn’t mind.

She nearly had her life taken away from her far more effectively than any mere wormhole could manage. Or even boredom. He’d saved her. She supposed he deserved some sort of reward for that.

“Yes. Most people I know hated school. I loved it. And would love to just stay in college forever. Go to medical school, law school, maybe. Study archeology. Oh, I’ve always wanted to study volcanology. That would be fun.”

“Why dinnae ye?”

“It’s incredibly expensive. That’s why. And a girl’s got to work.” She sipped more of the now-excellent whiskey. “At least you’ve had the opportunity to study at will. Who knows, with all the research you’ve done and discoveries you’ve made, you might make the history books one day.”

He shrugged modestly. “I dinnae need to make history tae ken my place in it, lass.”

“What a lovely sentiment.”

“Naught but the truth. What I do, I do for science but I also do for myself. I could spend my life in learning. A professional student, as ye call it.”

“And that’s why most people would call you crazy. Or mad. Or whatever the phrase is here.” She rolled her hand lazily, closing her eyes with a sigh.

“Ye should be abed and resting.”

Al opened her eyes to find him standing over her, amusement and concern wrestling with one another for command of his expression.

“Come, let me help ye up tae yer room. Yer maid can bandage yer arm and put ye tae bed.”

“I can do it myself.”

“Aye, I ken ye can, ye stubborn lass.”

“Why doesn’t anyone here think a woman can do stuff by herself?” Her words were thickened by fatigue and alcohol. Her drink disappeared from her hand, a second later he put it on a table nearby. “Peigi doesn’t even want me to bathe myself. Well, I won that one, I’ll tell you.”

He grinned down at her but didn’t address her question. He was smart. She’d give him that.

“Up, lassie.” He bent, slipping his arms beneath her and lifting her off the couch.

“Hey, I can walk, you know?”

Keir ignored her protest and carried her from the room, cradling her like a child. Except, for all her size, she wasn’t one. And she’d never had a man carry her like this. Not even her father that she could remember. The feelings it aroused were not even a shade paternal either. His strong arms held her close against him. She looped one arm around his neck and cuddled closer, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

Running her hand over his bulging chest muscles, she inhaled his scent. He must have bathed before dinner. Different than it had been earlier, he smelled of man but also mildly spicy. Still delicious.

He started up the stairs, his heart rate accelerating beneath her hand. His breathing increased as he took the steps two at a time. “You don’t have to carry me all the way. I can—”

“Do it yerself. I ken.”

“But it’s three stories,” she felt compelled to protest.

“Aye, three stories that would take an hour tae scale if ye were left to climb them yerself,” he pointed out.

“I’m not drunk. Just tipsy.”

“Cease yer protest.”

She did. But only because she liked being held by him. And he didn’t appear to be suffering under her weight too badly.

They reached her door but Keir didn’t drop her there. Instead, he kicked the door open and strode right in.

And stopped.

*

He froze at the sight of the bed. Turned