Free Ann Lethbridge by Her Highland Protector Page A

alone.’
    He heaved a sigh. ‘If you will not be sensible, then you give me no choice but to remain.’ He gave her a hard look. ‘And there will be no more sneaking off. I’ll have your word on it.’
    Relief flooded through her. To know he would stay. That he would stand between her and danger. It seemed cowardly, but it was sensible. Rational. ‘You have my word.’
    Suspicion lurked in his eyes, but he did not give her the lie. He merely nodded and sat down beside her on the sofa.
    ‘Then I will have no more lies from you,’ he said harshly. ‘What was so important about the letter, that it must be delivered in secret?’
    The odd note in his voice alerted her to something more going on than the question revealed. ‘It was a letter from my home. Braemuir. My cousin Carrick prefers I not interfere in what he sees as his prerogative while he remains as my trustee. But they are my people, Mr Gilvry. It is my land. It is only right they should make their concerns known to me.’
    ‘Who sent the letter?’
    Her spine stiffened at the suspicion in his tone. ‘The vicar.’
    ‘He is a fine young man, no doubt.’
    She frowned at the offhand way he passed his comment. It contained a note of jealousy. She opened her mouth to tell him that the Reverend Hughes was seventy if he was a day and married, but some devil inside her put other words on her tongue. ‘He is indeed a fine man.’
    Silence greeted her words. He leaned forwards, his elbows on thighs encased in skin-tight pantaloons, and clasped his hands together. She had a strong urge to rest her head against the strong right arm, to draw on his strength, even unburden her worries. The letter spoke of neglect and implored her to return and take up the reins as her father had intended. And so she would. As the wife of a husband who could set things to right.
    Mr Gilvry was not that man, and to lean on him would be weakness.
    If only she did not find Mr Gilvry so wickedly alluring or so serious and honourable, it would be easier to keep him at a distance.
    He looked at her sideways. ‘I gave my word to Carrick that I would stand in his stead with you until his return. So far, I have made a muckle of it. But that will change from today. There will be no more sneaking off. Or wandering the castle at night, putting yourself in harm’s way. No more nonsense between us. Do I make myself clear?’
    Nonsense meant kissing. And she certainly had no plan to repeat the experience, having demonstrated that she had no power to resist him. ‘You are very clear, Mr Gilvry.’
    He didn’t look particularly comforted by her answer, but he nodded and pushed to his feet. ‘Then I will leave you to the fire and your reading.’ He gathered up the tomes he had been looking at and strode from the room.
    Leaving her in command of the field of battle.
    An ache filled her chest. Because she had the strong suspicion that while he had felt a twinge of jealousy over Mr Hughes, he had definitely enjoyed their kiss.
    The thought made her feel warm all over.
    * * *
    Three days later, while Jenna sat reading and Mrs Preston worked at her embroidery, there was a decided rap on the door. Jenna looked up, knowing even before the door opened that it was Niall. Knew it from the way her heart rose in her throat, from the hum in her veins. The tingling awareness in her scalp. And there he was in the doorway.
    For three days they had carefully avoided each other, making sure what had happened in the library could not possibly happen again. Heat crept up her face at the recollection. She met his steady gaze with calm indifference, despite the unsteady beat of her heart and that betraying blush.
    ‘Good morning, Mr Gilvry,’ Mrs Preston said. Her face held enquiry.
    He bowed. ‘Good morning, Mrs Preston. Lady Jenna. Letters have arrived from Lord Carrick.’ He handed her a sealed note.
    There was something about the way he spoke that gave her an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach, something dark