Page 16 of Taken By the Highland Villain

“Of course. I understand. It was just… I heard the other seamstresses talking about Laird MacFinn’s need, and the way they spoke about him was so like how people used to speak about Brigid’s husband. I had to see if he was as bad as all that.

“Then, I discovered that he wasnae so bad at all. A bit gruff, perhaps, but nae so ill-tempered as people make him out to be. And his injury isnae so terrible either. I thought…”

The smile was slipping from Laird MacOlley’s face, and underneath was something cold and dangerous.

Valerie realized her mistake and shook her head. “It doesnae matter what I thought. The truth is, I can help him, and mayhap make a better man out of him. So, of course, I had to take on the job. Especially as nay one else would, it seems.”

Laird MacOlley laughed. “Ye do like a challenge, and ye have such a gracious heart. It will be somethin’ for me to brag about when we’re wed—my little wife and her industrious, charitable ways.”

He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad ye’re thinkin’ of yer reputation and others—It will make our union all the better.”

Valerie grimaced at the heavy hand on her shoulder. She felt like there was some poisonous beast draped over her arm, and it made her want to squirm away, perhaps even strike him with a stick.

Staying still when he touched her was an effort, but she knew she would have given the game away if she tried to avoid his hand. And that, she could not do—not if she wanted to protect Brigid, Conall, and their newborn daughter.

“Och, I’ve told ye afore—serenity suits ye best, Valerie.” Laird MacOlley lifted his other hand and rubbed his thumb over her forehead, across the lines caused by the frown she hadn’t even realized she wore. “We dinnae want any wrinkles to mar yer skin, ye ken.”

She was drowning. She was being squeezed in a trap, choking on the insincere words and the cold covetousness of his gaze. She wanted nothing more than to wrench herself free and hit him—kick him where it might hurt, perhaps. But the memory of Brigid and the bairn was too strong.

She forced herself to smile. “Och, ye ken how I am. I dinnae remember such things as often as I ken ye would like.” She glanced at the market. “I dinnae want to keep ye, and I do have some shoppin’ to finish…”

“Och, and why should I deprive myself of the pleasure of yer company, now that I’ve met ye here? Ye cannae expect me to do anything other than accompany ye—” Laird MacOlley broke off as a large hand fell on his shoulder and jerked him backward, away from Valerie.

He stumbled, his mask of suave, urbane politeness and his confident air broken by the shock of being manhandled. For one instant, his true self shone through, anger and spite sweeping across his countenance before he straightened.

However, that one moment was enough for Jude Reid to limp past him to Valerie’s side and plant himself in front of her like a shield, glowering at Laird MacOlley all the while. “Who is this man, and why is he disturbin’ ye, Valerie? Do I need to kill him for ye?”

CHAPTER 8

He scared her.

Jude could feel the tension and the slight tremor in Valerie’s frame where she stood behind him. He kept his gaze trained on the other man, however, despite how much he wanted to turn and ensure that Valerie wasn’t hurt.

Up close, he could observe other details beyond his opponent’s height, build, and neat appearance. Such as the expensive fabric the man wore and the torc around his neck.

It took Jude a long moment to recognize him, but when he did, his mood soured further. “What are ye doin’, botherin’ my seamstress, Nathan Cullen? Ye’ve yer own lands to be lookin’ after.”

Laird MacOlley glared at him, but before he could reply, Valerie stepped around Jude, putting herself between them with a bright, false smile.

“Och, dinnae be silly, My Laird. He wasnae troublin’ me.” Her laughter as she swatted at his arm was as forced as her smile. “And I never would have guessed that such a dour man as ye would make such jokes. Imagine, threatenin’ to kill a man for nothing… Ye must be teasin’ me.”

“I wasnae.” Jude meant to say more, but she’d already turned to face Laird MacOlley.

“It was a surprise to see ye here, My Laird, but good to ken that ye’re nearby. But surely, I shouldnae keep ye from yer business at the market?”

She was trying to protect him. Jude had no ideawhatshe was trying to protect him from, but it was clear she was trying to prevent an altercation.

The realization soured his mood further.

Does she think I wouldnae fight for her? Or that I cannae protect her because I am a cripple?

He wanted to wrap his arm around her and pull her to safety, but it was clear from her actions and her words that she had no desire to be protected and hidden away like a child. Instead, he leaned closer, claiming her attention once more.

“Never mind keepin’ him from his business; ye said ye were goin’ to show me some softer fabrics ye think would suit my needs. Yewanted to come to the market to find cloth that wouldnae irritate my scars, did ye nae? Ye’ll nae find it talkin’ to the likes of him.”

The words were harsher than he had intended, but he saw from the relief in her eyes and the barely concealed gratitude that she understood his intention and appreciated it.

“Of course. If ye’ll excuse me, My Laird.”