A Time & Place for Every Laird by Angeline Fortin (ebook reader TXT) 📕

In truth, she couldn’t really remember atime when she hadn’t been angry.

She was angry, and had been for a longwhile. Angry at the world for taking Matt from her too quickly,angry at the Afghans who had planted that bomb, angry at thegovernment for allowing such a war to begin with, angry with herfamily for pushing her too hard. Angry with Matt.

With a heavy sigh, Claire shook her head.Damn, that snooping Jameson had been right. She had left a good,fulfilling job developing environmentally clean ultrasonicpropulsion to make weapons worse than the one that had taken herhusband from her, and she had done it just because she was angryabout the way Matt had died.

God, what an ugly, nauseatingrealization.

As for the fear … ugh, she really hated itwhen someone else was right.

“Hugh?”

Hugh lowered the book he had been readingand exhaled a sigh of relief at the sound of Sorcha’s voice. Shehad been gone for hours. Hours where he had awaited her return onthe beach and had finally given up his post, sure that his harshoutburst had been enough to drive her away forever. Her absence hadprovided plenty of time for him to evaluate his position and theunanticipated friendship that had blossomed between them. Though heneeded her more desperately than he cared to admit, he had alsoquickly begun to care for her as well. She was courageous,resourceful, intelligent, and witty. There was much about her toadmire and little to scorn.

And she had been right. He held no positionin her life that allowed for such personal observations of how sheled her life.

Glancing up, he found her looking, not athim, but at the wooden bookshelves that covered the interior wallof the library. Her arms were still crossed tightly, a posture hehad come to recognize as protective, defensive. Sorcha had employedit often over the past days as a means to maintaining distancebetween them. Initially, distance between herself and a strangerwho might potentially harm her, and now between herself and a manwho had done so in the very worst way.

Hugh had never been one to readily tolerateinsult or injury from anyone. For all the refinement of Frederick’scourt, such things were commonplace, but swift and scathingrebuttal had quickly silenced any of the courtiers’ gossipconcerning Hugh or his friends. He could charm with a raised browand censure just as easily. If any other woman had dared berate himso, his rebuke would have been just as sharp and quick. From a mansuch an insult might have been, in some cases, even deadly.

No, it wasn’t unusual for him to make aweapon of words in such instances, words carefully considered andchosen for the sting they might inflict. However, it was unusualfor him to lash out so thoughtlessly, and he regretted the rashtemper that had prompted him to do so. Hugh wasn’t certain if itwas the situation or Sorcha herself who had roused his emotions so.She did have a way of getting under his skin, irritating as agnat.

Sorcha also had a way of lightening a man’sheart to the point where he forgot all his troubles and saw onlyher. That alone was worth making amends for.

“Sor … Claire,” Hugh pushed out of thechair, determined to atone for his insensitive taunting.

But Sorcha turned to face him with a smile(it might have been tight and perhaps a wee tad forced, but it wasthere) and said brightly, “I thought we might go into the city inthe morning and see if my brother can help us find out what broughtyou here.”

And with that, Hugh knew she hadmiraculously forgiven him his thoughtless words. How or why, hehadn’t an inkling. After all she had given, he certainly didn’tdeserve it. “Claire …”

She shook her head, holding up her hand inthat way that would have seemed excessively rude in his own timebut was delivered as a matter of course in this one. “I’m sorry forwhat I said. There are a million excuses I could give you forgetting on you like that, a million justifications. I try hard notto follow ‘I’m sorry’ with a ‘but.’ There are circumstances hereneither of us are used to. We both know it. I deserve what I got inreturn, but I’m hoping we can both figure out how to deal with ourworries in more constructive ways than taking it out on oneanother.”

Hugh nodded gravely. “Ye hae my apology aswell. My words were thoughtless and cruel. Ye hae my word as agentleman that such ill-considered words willnae pass my lipsagain.” Nae, they would not, Hugh inwardly vowed. Sorcha clearlyhad enough pain and conflict in her life without him adding to it.If she was still willing to help him, he had nothing more withinhis power with which to repay her than kindness and courtesy. Thegood Lord knew that he was perfectly capable of both.

Sorcha’s arms loosened, though she did pushher hands deep into the pockets of her sweater, and her pinchedfeatures relaxed. “You must be hungry. Did you get any breakfast atall?” she asked as she started toward the kitchen, and Hughfollowed, wishing there was more he could do to right the wrong histemper had wrought. Despite the cheer in her voice, Hugh hadquickly come to realize that Sorcha conquered worry and fear withsarcasm, and uncertainty with subjects changed.

“I found enough tae satisfy me,” he said,though he hadn’t been able to eat at all as he wondered at herabsence. “I can prepare our meal if you like.”

Her arched brow told him clearly what shethought of that, and Hugh couldn’t help but grin. “Even a duke canturn a rabbit on a spit, if need be.”

“Next time I want to put Thumper on askewer, I’ll know who to call,” she retorted, pulling meats andcheese out of the refrigerator. “For now, a sandwich or five willhave to do.”

Silence fell around them as Sorcha pulledout a bag with a fascinating loaf of sliced bread and began toassemble a tower of sandwiches as she explained to him the originof the term, about the Earl of Sandwich and his