“Why would ye? Ye have more than enough to do as laird.”
Logen sighed and fought to keep his dismay from her. The last thing he wanted to tell her was that the elders had made her his charge, so he was responsible for her. And felt responsible for her. Nay, bad as that was, it was only the next-to-last thing he wanted to tell her. The last thing was to confess his interest in her was personal, affectionate, sensual. Aye, she’d sensed it. But saying it out loud? It was much too soon for that. And given her experience in the highlands, he expected she’d be wary of anything other than friendship from him. From the sound of it, pursuing the last laird had nearly destroyed her. Aye, and nearly killed her.
She shifted in her chair. “I dinna need yer pity, laird.”
Logen winced. He needed a wall around his feelings, too, it seemed. “I dinna feel pity, Coira. ’Tis dismay over the difficulty of what ye need to learn to do.” Aye, she could sense what he felt, but not why. And truly, he did not lie. “The unknown.” He glanced toward the window, thinking.
“Ye forget, I can sense what ye’re feeling, no matter what ye call it. I ken it.”
He needed to divert her. “Can ye do now what ye did with those women? Can ye block me out?” He indicated the area between them and moved a hand up and down. “Build a wall between us?”
She frowned, but settled herself and closed her eyes. “I’ll try.”
“What do I need to do?”
Her brows drew together again. “Naught. Give me a moment...”
Logen willed himself to calmness.
“Nay! Dinna do that,” Coira suddenly exclaimed. “Think about what had ye irritated when I arrived.”
Logen glanced toward the ledger on the table and the stack of papers—scraps, mostly, littering the surface around it—and groaned.
“That’s better.”
The twitch of her lips into a satisfied smirk only served to increase his irritation. Better that, he supposed, than quailing under how much she had at stake if this didn’t work. In comparison, his task seemed trivial. Nay, not trivial. The incompetence of his predecessors had consequences, too, for the clan as well as for him.
He risked a glance in her direction. Her frown gave away nothing but concentration. He stood quietly and moved around the table. If she wanted him irritated, he might as well accomplish something with the irritation. With a sigh, he opened the ledger and bent to work.
****
Coira built dunes along the pounding surf of Logen’s irritation until they stretched as far as her mind could see. Then she built them higher. His irritation still hid behind them, the roar muted, the wind blocked.
It worked! But could she maintain the barrier without focusing all her concentration on it? She opened her eyes and glanced around, surprised to see that Logen had changed his seat. She hadn’t noticed. That pleased her. A dune crumbled and some of the roar came back as Logen frowned at his ledger and made a note on the side. Coira closed her eyes and rebuilt the barrier, then opened them again.
Logen glanced up and met her gaze. He smiled.
Coira’s heart stuttered to see it, but her barrier held.
“Did ye do it?”
“Aye, I am. But I want to try something else.” She stood, turned away from him, and moved to the window. “Keep working.”
She held the essence of the dune wall in the back of her mind while she studied the activity in the bailey below Logen’s window. Then she moved to the bookcase and pulled a volume from the shelf, noting its weight, the texture of the binding, the dust along the top. Logen muttered an oath behind her, but the dunes held.
Sweet relief filled her. She could do this. At least here, isolated in Logen’s workspace, for a time. But in a crowd? Or facing hostile emotions directed at her? That would take more practice. She needed a harder test. She replaced the book on the shelf and moved back to the table. Logen set his work aside and faced her.
“I want to touch ye, to
Logen sighed and fought to keep his dismay from her. The last thing he wanted to tell her was that the elders had made her his charge, so he was responsible for her. And felt responsible for her. Nay, bad as that was, it was only the next-to-last thing he wanted to tell her. The last thing was to confess his interest in her was personal, affectionate, sensual. Aye, she’d sensed it. But saying it out loud? It was much too soon for that. And given her experience in the highlands, he expected she’d be wary of anything other than friendship from him. From the sound of it, pursuing the last laird had nearly destroyed her. Aye, and nearly killed her.
She shifted in her chair. “I dinna need yer pity, laird.”
Logen winced. He needed a wall around his feelings, too, it seemed. “I dinna feel pity, Coira. ’Tis dismay over the difficulty of what ye need to learn to do.” Aye, she could sense what he felt, but not why. And truly, he did not lie. “The unknown.” He glanced toward the window, thinking.
“Ye forget, I can sense what ye’re feeling, no matter what ye call it. I ken it.”
He needed to divert her. “Can ye do now what ye did with those women? Can ye block me out?” He indicated the area between them and moved a hand up and down. “Build a wall between us?”
She frowned, but settled herself and closed her eyes. “I’ll try.”
“What do I need to do?”
Her brows drew together again. “Naught. Give me a moment...”
Logen willed himself to calmness.
“Nay! Dinna do that,” Coira suddenly exclaimed. “Think about what had ye irritated when I arrived.”
Logen glanced toward the ledger on the table and the stack of papers—scraps, mostly, littering the surface around it—and groaned.
“That’s better.”
The twitch of her lips into a satisfied smirk only served to increase his irritation. Better that, he supposed, than quailing under how much she had at stake if this didn’t work. In comparison, his task seemed trivial. Nay, not trivial. The incompetence of his predecessors had consequences, too, for the clan as well as for him.
He risked a glance in her direction. Her frown gave away nothing but concentration. He stood quietly and moved around the table. If she wanted him irritated, he might as well accomplish something with the irritation. With a sigh, he opened the ledger and bent to work.
****
Coira built dunes along the pounding surf of Logen’s irritation until they stretched as far as her mind could see. Then she built them higher. His irritation still hid behind them, the roar muted, the wind blocked.
It worked! But could she maintain the barrier without focusing all her concentration on it? She opened her eyes and glanced around, surprised to see that Logen had changed his seat. She hadn’t noticed. That pleased her. A dune crumbled and some of the roar came back as Logen frowned at his ledger and made a note on the side. Coira closed her eyes and rebuilt the barrier, then opened them again.
Logen glanced up and met her gaze. He smiled.
Coira’s heart stuttered to see it, but her barrier held.
“Did ye do it?”
“Aye, I am. But I want to try something else.” She stood, turned away from him, and moved to the window. “Keep working.”
She held the essence of the dune wall in the back of her mind while she studied the activity in the bailey below Logen’s window. Then she moved to the bookcase and pulled a volume from the shelf, noting its weight, the texture of the binding, the dust along the top. Logen muttered an oath behind her, but the dunes held.
Sweet relief filled her. She could do this. At least here, isolated in Logen’s workspace, for a time. But in a crowd? Or facing hostile emotions directed at her? That would take more practice. She needed a harder test. She replaced the book on the shelf and moved back to the table. Logen set his work aside and faced her.
“I want to touch ye, to
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