Page 5 of The Highlander’s Fake Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #4)

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 skinned pelts from previously hunted beasts.

The bed spanned an impressive length, piled with heavy, soft-looking furs to keep the ocean air’s chill at bay.

And laid across was a pale-sage nightgown, its quality clearly high by a mere glance.

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

Olivia nodded her thanks, relief flooding her body like the lingering heat from the bath. She gave the room another look-around before going for the gown, dropping her towel and holding the nightdress up against her body to check its general shape.

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

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

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

Just as the maid laced the last of the strings, a knock on the door was quickly followed by it swinging open, revealing Laird MacDonnell himself. Olivia let out a startled hiss, turning away as the strings of her dress tugged tightly against her waist.

“Aye, ye daft brute! What if I’d hadnae clothing on?!”

“Aye, but ye do.”

Olivia made a sour face, feeling the maid quickly tie off the strings before curtsying the laird’s way.

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, leaving the pair alone in the guest room.

Much to Olivia’s relief, he remained between the archway, arms folded gently 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 two have words to exchange.”

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 kind on the eyes, but now, with the light of the keep to fully illuminate her (and without having to worry about the dangers in 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 she was as full-bodied around her bosom as she was to her waist. Her hair still reminded him of seaweed, but now that it was cleaned and cared to, it was reminiscent of the tall stalks that grew in the waters, swaying gently with a rubescent gleam.

And her eyes…they really were the deep depths of the ocean, occasionally catching a rich, beautiful blue as the light hit it just right.

Suddenly, Arthur found himself standing in his study, having instinctively sat in his chair while Olivia sat across. He blinked, shaking his mind free of distracting thoughts, and folded his arms across 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 offered a shrug in response, still nervously braiding a thick strand of hair. Arthur dug around his desk, offering a spare ribbon her way. She raised her brow slightly, seemingly hoping to prompt a response from him.

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

“That’s…” Olivia’s expression softened, pulling her braid over her shoulder as her fingers dexterously finished it. “That’s considerate of you, Laird MacDonnell.”

Arthur nodded, unable to turn his attention from Olivia’s hair.

The ribbon was a beautiful shade of green, perfectly complimenting her gown and the vibrant shade of red in her locks.

He couldn’t help but linger on it, wondering what else would go nicely in her hair.

Flowers, jewels; his fingers, perhaps, if she would allow it?

“Ye asked if I had a plan, me Laird?”

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

Olivia visibly hesitated, fingers playing with the ribbon as she spoke. “Well…I would like to find me maither, if at all possible.”

He remembered brief mention of the deceased laird’s wife, though Arthur 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 o’mine, anymore,” Olivia grumbled.

Arthur leaned back in his chair, eyeing Olivia with interest.

“Yer plannin’ a one-man raid, then? Not that I’d be against offerin’ aid…”

“I think I owe plenty enough to ye, m’laird.”

Arthur’s brow rose, but he allowed Olivia to continue.

She seemed to catch the hint, shoulders hunching slightly. “We’d agreed to meet at an old convent close to the border o’me faither’s territory. But–but we were discovered, ‘n she took one of those eejit’s 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 both mothers would get along famously.

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

“Is that how yer gonna reply to every awful part of me life?” Olivia snapped.

Arthur sat up slightly, intrigued by the sudden return of her spark. “Nay, lass, yer right; I shouldnae tease ye like that.” He paused, genuinely taking in the concern laying beneath her dark scowl. “Yer really worried, arenae ye?”

Olivia bit her lip and nodded.

Arthur let out a tired sigh, leaning back into his chair as his mind tumbled about. He’d never regretted getting wrapped into 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, standing from her chair as she began to pace. “I–I wonder if I should have done more for them? I mean, Maither gave her body to have meself an’ me brother, an’ he an’ me faither gave their lives to protect the clan.”

“Selkie…”

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

“’Tis nae yer fault.”

“It has to be!” Olivia snapped, hands slamming against the laird’s desk.

“Because otherwise, I’m being punished simply because–b-because…

” Her eyes flickered towards the desk, hands quickly hiding behind her back as she took a few shaky steps away.

Admittedly, Arthur likely 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 uttered from his lips.

“I will help ye find yer maither,” Arthur promised. “And I will ensure she, an’ yerself, are put under me protection.”

Olivia’s anger fizzled into befuddlement. “A-Aye, m’Laird? Ye would do that fer the daughter an’ wife o’yer enemy?”

Arthur shrugged his shoulders lightly. “He already paid with his life–there’s nae any need fer ye to continue suffering. But,” He held up a hand, catching Olivia’s partially forming smile of relief. “Ye gotta do somethin’ for me, lass. After all, I did have a hand in saving yer life.”

“I…” She visibly swallowed, taking another step away from the desk. “I’ve heard of yer reputation, m’Laird. With…other women.” Another swallow, a nervous flicker of the eye. “An–an if ye think I’ll be one of yer conquests–-”

Laughter erupted from Arthur’s chest, and he shook his head with a smile. “Ach! Nay, lass, ye’re puttin’ the wagon before the horse! I willnae ask 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 finished, smile slipping into something far more mischievous.

“Yer what?!”

More chuckling slipped out from Arthur; he was beginning to enjoy these moments of outrage from her. “A fake engagement, selkie. Long enough to calm me council. After that, yer maither and ye can do as ye please, wit the word o’MacDonnell to keep ye safe.”

Olivia’s arms crossed tightly against her chest. Arthur couldn’t help but notice the act perk up her breasts considerably. “Ye are some sort o’scheming, puckish troll, ye ken that?”

Arthur smirked, leaning further back in his chair so as to prop his feet up onto his desk.

He watched as his selkie rolled the offer around in her head, likely trying to find any loophole she may have missed.

It was a pleasant sight, he had to admit; she was going to keep things quite engaging between the two of them.

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

Arthur nodded curtly.

“And we daenae have to stay behind yer walls to keep yer protection?”

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

Olivia’s eyes narrowed, nose scrunching up as if she’d just stepped in something unpleasant. “I dinnae believe ye. What’s the catch, m’Larid?”

“No 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 yer in love with me.”

“I daenae like to lie,” Olivia argued weakly.

“It’ll be meself who has to sell it,” Arthur pointed out. “Though, if yer worried about havin’ a bit of a fib, we could properly betroth and end it eventually.”

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

Arthur raised a brow, impressed that his selkie truly thought she held any leverage in this situation. Curiosity got the better of him, though, and he slipped his legs back under his desk, leaning across and attention fully on Olivia.

She grimaced slightly, straightening the waist of her dress before her hands settled against her noticeable hips. “I–yer nae allowed to touch me while I’m here. Not without me giving the say-so.”

Arthur chuckled, rising from his chair and crossing around his desk.

The slight look of panic on Olivia’s face was priceless, and it only got better once he gently grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips.

He gave her knuckle a gentle kiss, one 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 Arthur’s office after that, and he couldn’t help but laugh once more.

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