Free Amanda Scott by Abducted Heiress

fascinating.
    She was different from any woman he had ever met. Border-bred, she was smaller and more slightly built than the Highland women
     he knew, who tended to be built along the larger, more robust lines of their Norse ancestors.
    Clearly, serving as Mistress Gordon’s guardian was not going to be as easy as he had thought, and just as it now seemed absurd
     that he had not once thought about what she might look like, that he had not thought about how she might act was an equally
     foolish oversight. If he had, of course, he would have assumed that she would simply obey him. Now he feared that she would
     not.
    He sighed. She would learn, one way or another. He would not allow a mere lass whose head barely reached his armpit to make
     trouble at Eilean Donan. She would have chores to tend just like everyone else, and she would do as she was bid or she would
     answer to him. How difficult could it be?
    Trying hard to ignore the lingering itch of doubt in his mind and an equally disturbing sensation much lower down, he reached
     his chamber and, finding Patrick within, demanded that gentleman’s aid in finding a suitable change of clothing.

    Molly reached her bedchamber still contemplating how best to show Kintail that domineering males did not impress her. Irritated
     by the constant echoing in her mind of his command that she wear blue, she pushed open the door hard enough to send it banging
     against the wall. Then she stopped at the threshold, stunned at the sight of one of the largest wildcats she had ever beheld,
     curled up on her bed.
    Golden eyes gleaming wickedly, the beast growled at her.
    “Mercy,” she murmured, too stunned even to be afraid. When the first prickling of fear stirred, she decided that she could
     jump back and slam the door before it could attack, but even as that thought flitted through her mind, she noticed something
     even odder than the presence of a wildcat in her bedchamber. At first, it was as if a swirl of mist formed in front of the
     cat. Then, slowly, a solid-looking outline took shape.
    The hair stood up on the back of her neck as, before her eyes, where no one had been before, a little woman appeared. Molly
     shut her eyes and opened them again, but the woman was still there. About two-thirds the size of the wildcat, she was leaning
     comfortably against its furry side, her legs stretched out before her, primly crossed at the ankles. In her right hand, she
     held an odd-looking implement like a stick with a small white bowl at one end from which a narrow stream of whitish gray smoke
     wafted upward.
    “Good day to ye,” the little woman said. “Did ye enjoy your hunt?”
    “I did, thank you,” Molly said, responding automatically to the woman’s matter-of-fact tone. Then, still finding it hard to
     believe that the woman and cat had simply appeared out of thin air, she said warily, “Who are you?”
    “Why, I be Maggie Malloch, that’s who.”
    “I am afraid that name means naught to me,” Molly said. “Aye, sure, and I expected as much,” Maggie Malloch said, “but we’ve
     nae time tae discuss me name now. It takes a deal of effort for me tae remain visible, ye see. I must speak quickly, so if
     ye’ll be so kind as no tae interrupt me—”
    “Remain visible!”
    “Whisst now, I told ye, ye mustna interrupt,” Maggie said impatiently. “I declare, mortals be as rude as any o’ the wee people,
     for all that many in both worlds would say different.”
    “Wee people!” Molly’s voice went up on the words in a thready shriek, although she had begun to suspect as much when Maggie’s
     figure formed out of the swirling mist.
    “Whisst now, whisst,” Maggie said sternly. “Ye’ll do nae good by settin’ up a screech, for if anyone else comes in, I’ll ha’
     tae be taking me leave o’ ye straightaway. Would ye mind shuttin’ that door now—and quietly, mind.”
    Fascination replaced the lingering remnants of Molly’s fear and disbelief. She