The Highlander And The Governess

Have you no shame? she warned herself. Your imagination has gone wanton.

‘Or the proper spoon,’ she shot back with her own insolence. ‘One never knows the importance of cutlery.’

She flushed at his nearness, realising that it was her loneliness that caused the idle dreams. She had trained at the agency for a year, surrounded only by women. She had lived alone, without so much as a cat for company. This was the reason why she was so sensitive to a casual touch. It would go away, she was certain.

‘Would you mind very much if I asked Alban for a basket and shears?’ she enquired. ‘Could I choose some flowers for the house?’ A good walk would clear her head and remind her of her purpose.

‘There’s naught blooming just now, but you can ask him, if you wish.’

‘Thank you, Locharr.’ She bobbed a slight curtsy and then hurried down the hall towards the retreating footman. It was only an excuse to leave, and they both knew it.

She needed to be careful when she was around Lachlan MacKinloch. He was a handsome man with a fierce smile that made her willpower crumble. Frances reminded herself that she needed to encase her heart in steel and lock it away, along with her wayward desires. He belonged to another woman, and even if he did keep her as his governess, it was only temporary. Eventually, she would never see him again.

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