Page 41 of A Bride for the Wicked Highlander (Daring a Highland Laird #2)

O livia had almost forgotten how warm and inviting water could be. She wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the night in the bath, though the maids made it clear that wouldn’t be an option.

So, she allowed herself to be toweled off and escorted to the guest room, modestly decorated with mounted heads and pelts of previously hunted beasts.

The bed spanned an impressive length, piled with heavy, soft-looking furs to keep the chill of the ocean air at bay. And laid across was a pale sage nightgown. She could tell the fabric was fine from a mere glance.

“The Laird mentioned yer arisaid had been damaged during yer trip,” the maid began. “Our seamstress is already working on fixing the hem.”

Olivia nodded her thanks, relief flooding her body like the lingering heat from the bath.

She looked around the room one more time before going for the gown, dropping her towel, and holding the nightgown up against her body to check its shape.

The collar seemed to settle in the right spot, and the sleeves looked to be a proper length.

The skirt, however, fell well past her feet, her toes barely poking out from the fabric.

Still, it was far better than roaming the grounds in the nude, so she handed it back to the maid, holding her arms up as the gown fell over her head.

Just as the maid laced the last of the strings, a knock sounded at the door, which then swung open, revealing Laird MacDonnell himself. Olivia let out a startled hiss and turned away, causing the strings of her dress to tighten around her waist.

“Aye, ye daft brute! What if I had nay clothes on?!”

“Aye, but ye do.”

Olivia made a sour face, feeling the maid quickly tie off the strings and curtsy to the Laird. He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, leaving the pair alone in the guest room.

Much to Olivia’s relief, he remained in the doorway, his arms folded loosely across his chest as he looked her over.

“Wh-What?”

He shook his head and turned to leave. “Come join me at the study; we need to talk.”

Olivia’s face flushed, and she nervously grabbed a thick strand of hair, beginning to weave a braid in an attempt to keep it out of her face.

Just what on earth was she about to get herself into?

The soft patter of footsteps followed behind Arthur as he made his way towards the study. His little selkie hardly seemed open to conversation during their trek, and admittedly, he welcomed the silence with open arms.

It had been fairly obvious that Olivia was easy on the eyes, but now, with the light of the keep fully illuminating her and without having to worry about the dangers of the wild, Arthur finally had a moment to fully take her in.

He’d been right about her curves, though he was delighted to see that she was generously endowed at her bosom yet slender at her waist.

Her hair still reminded him of seaweed, but now that it was cleaned and cared for, it was reminiscent of the tall stalks that grew in the waters, swaying gently with a rubescent gleam.

And her eyes… they were like the depths of the ocean, occasionally turning a rich, beautiful blue as the light hit them just right.

Suddenly, Arthur found himself standing in his study, having instinctively sat in his chair while Olivia sat across. He blinked, shaking distracting thoughts out of his head, and rested his forearms on his desk.

“So, me wee selkie, what do ye plan to do now?”

Olivia looked surprised.

“Ah, ye assumed ye were a prisoner or some such?”

Olivia shrugged in response, still nervously braiding a thick strand of hair.

Arthur dug around his desk and offered her a spare ribbon. She raised an eyebrow slightly, seemingly hoping to coax a response from him.

“When ye have a sister and maither like mine,” he explained with a slight smirk, “it helps to have some ladies’ wear on hand. Dinnae ken why they always ask me for ribbons, but after the last dozen times or so, I’ve just gone and tucked a few here and there.”

“That’s…” Olivia’s face softened as she pulled her braid over her shoulder and dexterously tied it. “That’s considerate of ye, Laird MacDonnell.”

Arthur nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from her hair. The ribbon was a beautiful shade of green, perfectly complementing her gown and her vibrant red locks. He couldn’t help but linger on it, wondering what else would look nice in her hair. Flowers, jewels? His fingers, if she would allow it?

“Ye asked if I had a plan, M’Laird?”

Arthur blinked, nodding as he turned his attention back to the discussion at hand. “Aye, selkie. I did.”

Olivia hesitated, her fingers playing with the ribbon as she spoke, “Well, I would like to find me maither, if it’s possible.”

He remembered a brief mention of Lady MacCulloh, though he admitted not to have been listening as intently as he should have. Then again, he’d had a young woman beating against his chest while the information was revealed.

“Ye mentioned she’d been taken by yer clan?” he asked.

“Nay clan of mine anymore,” Olivia grumbled.

Arthur leaned back in his chair, eyeing her with interest. “Ye’re plannin’ a one-man raid, then? Nae that I’d be against offerin’ aid…”

“I think I owe plenty enough to ye, M’Laird.”

His eyebrow rose, but he allowed her to continue.

She seemed to catch the hint, her shoulders hunching slightly. “We’d agreed to meet at an old convent close to MacCulloh’s border. But—but we were discovered, and she tackled one of those eejits to the ground so I could escape.”

Arthur briefly imagined his own mother pinning a fully-grown man to the ground, rolling about in the dirt while keeping the seasoned warrior in a headlock. He did his best not to chuckle; he had a feeling their mothers would get along famously.

“She sounds as feral as ye are, selkie.”

“Is that how ye’re gonna reply every time I reveal an awful thing about me life?” Olivia snapped.

Arthur sat up slightly, intrigued by the return of her spunk. “Nay, lass, ye’re right. I shouldnae tease ye like that.” He paused, catching the concern beneath her dark scowl. “Ye’re really worried, are ye nae?”

Olivia bit her lip and nodded.

Arthur let out a tired sigh, leaning back in his chair as his mind raced. He’d never regretted getting wrapped up in the clan wars. Not until now, at least. Though he supposed putting a face to the enemy made it a bit hard to see them as nothing more than walking targets.

“I ken I blamed ye, but…” Olivia shook her head, rising from her chair and beginning to pace. “I-I wonder if I should have done more for them. I mean, Maither sacrificed her body to have me and me braither, and he and our faither gave their lives to protect the clan.”

“Selkie…”

“So, was there something more I was supposed to do?” Her nails were digging into her palms. “To protect them, or make them happier?”

“’Tis nae yer fault.”

“It has to be!” Olivia snapped, slamming her hands on the desk. “Because otherwise, I’m being punished simply because—b-because…” Her eyes flicked down, and she quickly hid her hands behind her back as she took a few shaky steps away.

Admittedly, Arthur should have reacted to such a violent act, but he couldn’t find it in himself to scare her any further than she already was.

“Olivia.”

She blinked, surprised to hear her name on his lips.

“I will help ye find yer maither,” he promised. “And I will protect ye both.”

Olivia’s anger faded into befuddlement. “A-Aye, M’Laird? Ye would do that for the daughter and wife of yer enemy?”

Arthur shrugged his shoulders lightly. “He already paid with his life—there’s nay need for ye to continue suffering. But—” He held up a hand, catching her relieved smile. “Ye gotta do somethin’ for me, lass. After all, I did save yer life.”

“I…” She visibly swallowed, taking another step away from the desk. “I’ve heard of yer reputation, M’Laird. With… women.” Another swallow, a nervous twitch of the lips. “And—and if ye think I’ll be one of yer conquests?—”

Laughter erupted from Arthur’s lips, and he shook his head with a smile. “Ach! Nay, lass, ye’re puttin’ the wagon before the horse! I willnae ask for anything so lewd; me bed’s plenty warm on its own. Nay, I only need ye to play the role, selkie.”

“The… role?” Olivia repeated.

“Of me betrothed,” Arthur clarified, his smile turning into something far more mischievous.

“Yer what?!”

More laughter slipped out of his lips; he was beginning to enjoy her outrage.

“A fake engagement, selkie. Long enough to placate me council. After that, ye and yer maither can do as ye please, with the word of MacDonnell to keep ye safe.”

Olivia crossed her arms tightly over her chest. Arthur couldn’t help but notice the way the act pushed up her breasts. “Ye are a scheming, puckish troll, ye ken that?”

Arthur smirked, leaning further back in his chair to prop his feet up on his desk. He watched as his selkie rolled the offer around in her head, likely trying to find a loophole. It was a pleasant sight, he had to admit; she was going to keep things quite engaging between the two of them.

“So… ye’re gonna use all yer power to find me maither,” Olivia began.

Arthur nodded curtly.

“And we dinnae have to stay here to have yer protection?”

“I wouldnae suggest traveling too far outside me borders,” Arthur admitted. “But aye, that’s the gist of it.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed, her nose scrunching up as if she’d just smelled something unpleasant. “I dinnae believe ye. What’s the catch, M’Laird?”

“Nay catch,” Arthur insisted with a wink—or, as best a wink as he could manage, given his eyepatch. “Just make sure to play the part well. This willnae work if the council doesnae believe ye’re in love with me.”

“I dinnae like lying,” Olivia argued weakly.

“It’ll be me who has to sell it,” Arthur pointed out. “Though, if ye’re worried about fibbin’, we could announce our betrothal and end it, eventually.”

Olivia shook her head furiously, her thick braid bouncing against her bosom. “N-Nay, a fake betrothal is fine. But I have a rule to add.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, impressed that his selkie truly thought she had leverage in this situation. Curiosity got the better of him, though, and he slipped his legs back under his desk, leaning forward and focusing his full attention on her.

She grimaced slightly, straightening the waist of her dress before her hands settled against her round hips. “I—ye’re nae allowed to touch me while I’m here. Nae without me say-so.”

Arthur chuckled, rising from his chair and rounding his desk.

The slightly panicked look on Olivia’s face was priceless, and it only got better once he gently took her hand and lifted it to his lips.

He gave her knuckle a gentle kiss, his eye flickering up to meet hers as he flashed her a mischievous grin.

“Ach, sorry, lass. Does that count under yer rule?”

Face flushing as brightly as her hair, Olivia tore her hand free and muttered some particularly unladylike phrases under her breath. She quickly stormed out of his study after that, and he couldn’t help but laugh once more.

“Ah, the wee selkie’s making this fun already.” He grinned, reaching the door before closing it gently with a click.