“There’s nothing unladylike about ye, Miss Graham.” Alasdair twisted his wrist slightly, granting her the freedom to trace the tip of her finger along the rest of his hand. A thrill of pleasure raced through his whole arm when she slowly trailed her index finger down the length of his own.
“Most people who know me well would say otherwise,” she countered as she stepped an inch closer to him and interlockedher fingers with his. Then, she lifted her chin and met his gaze. Alasdair could see sparks of fire dancing in her eyes.
“They’re wrong,” he said hoarsely. The feel of her hand in his own was unique. Her grip was light, yet he felt as if they were wholly tethered to one another.
“How would you know?” she breathed into the small void that separated them.
Suddenly, Alasdair felt as if he were standing too near the cauldron on a day when the cook made a hearty pot of stew. His insides were heating up and in the spaces where Miss Graham’s fingers intertwined with his own, he could feel pockets of perspiration accumulating.
“Yer right,” he conceded as he slowly relinquished his hold on her hand and stepped backward. “We daenae ken each other at all. We…”
“Yet,” she interrupted.
Something inside his abdomen flared at her insertion. “Eh?”
“I said we do not know each other well…yet, me Laird.” Miss Graham nodded once more at the maps on the table. “I do not know this land…your people…or you, Laird MacRaeh. But, before we are wed, I intend to remedy that predicament.”
Alasdair was not accustomed to the feelings that roiled through his mind and body. He was rarely left feeling dumbstruck and his body hardly ever stood frozen and rooted to one place. But Miss Graham had disarmed him with first, her proximity, then, with her candor. She had not said or done anything that was particularly vexing, but somehow, the combination of her words and actions had left him gaping at her, wondering what might happen between them next.
“I…I look forward to educatin’ you, Miss Graham.” He managed to produce those words, even though his lips were dry and his throat felt parched.
“I await your tutelage.” She dropped into a low curtsey, allowing him to catch a quick glimpse at her heaving bosom, but then she sprung back up once more and sashayed from the room.
Alasdair stared after her. A large part of him wanted to race after her and press her against the wall so she could feel exactly what her words had done to him. But another part, the more rational side of his brain, reminded him of the way he had chosen to conclude the council meeting.
We must proceed with caution. We cannae make any hard or fast decisions today.
He exhaled a long, slow sigh, then reached for the maps on the table. With nimble fingers, he rolled the parchment tightly and secured it with leather binding. All the while, he thought of Miss Graham and wondered if he could wait even a full hour before seeking her out again.
Chapter Seven
“Jane,” Isobel said as she countered her lady’s maid in the corridor upon exiting the council chambers.
“Yes, me Lady?”
Isobel’s heart still beat rapidly in her chest after that encounter with the Laird. She had batted her eyelashes and flirted with him as if they were two courtiers enjoying a Season in London. A blush covered her face and neck as she thought of how foolish Laird MacRaeh must find such behavior.
“I should like a tour of the castle.”
Jane’s brow wrinkled. “Didnae Lady Branwen take ye around the castle yesternight?”
“She did,” Isobel conceded, “but I would like to see everything. Understand everything about the castle’s history.”
“Right.” Jane shuffled the bundle of clothing she carried from one hand to the other, then said, “I cannae guarantee that I’ll get all the names and dates correct, but I can surely escort you through the castle and grounds.”
Isobel was so elated, she had to resist the urge to clap her hands.
“Where shall we begin?”
“Anywhere ye like, me Lady.” Jane hefted her bundle onto a hall table and picked up a candle. “Ye cannae learn a castle by starin’ at it from one room. Best ken yer way around before ye need to find somethin’ in a hurry.”
Isobel pulled on the sleeves of her gown nervously. “Is that advice or a warning?”
“Both,” Jane said pleasantly, and led her down the corridor away from the council chambers.
They went farther into the castle than Isobel had explored alone, Jane leading the way with a candle. Isobel followed, gathering her skirts on narrow stairs, ducking under low archways, and losing her sense of direction within the first ten minutes.
“How many staircases does one castle need?” she asked after the third one.