Pardoned on the Peak (Sequel to New World Sasanaichs)

Three

Just as he’d suspected, every Time Jamie found himself in a room alone with a certain genteel lady, more molestations were made against his person till he finally had enough. It’d been all he could do to keep Róisín from going on the Warpath the Eve of the first occurrence, ’cuz when he’d told her what’d happened, she’d momentarily lost Control of her magick and blown up a pottery vase on their dining table. Every subsequent occurrence only incited her further, to the point that he started to worry for the twins she was currently carrying, and he kent he’d to do something to put a stop to this.

        Carefully plotting out everything to the last detail, he finally decided to take a risk he normally wouldn’t to finally resolve this matter before it spiraled even more outta Control. He once again left the front door of his print shop unlocked, knowing that Geordie wouldn’t be in today since he’d come down with a cold the Day previous. After leaving Geneva a way to get in, he simply settled into his typical routine as a printer–except that it wasn’t as typical as it might seem at first glance.

        Less than an hour after his arrival, the ginger man heard the Bell over his door tinkle as someone opened it and stepped in from the cold outside. After a few moments, his keen hearing picked up the familiar gait of the lass he’d been trying to avoid as much as he could, and that was when he unleashed his plot without her even realizing it. He was able to use his magick to compel her betrothed to turn away from the whiskey clearing, which’d been where he was heading to get a first-hand look at the actual process from Lachlan today. By the Time she actually started up her same old tricks, Lord John’d no doubt be at least walking up to the front door, if not actually through it–and be able to catch her with his own eyes.

        “Good Morn, Jamie,” the bitch of a lass greeted him, sidling up behind him so close that he could already feel her heat.

        “Mr. Malcolm’ll do when we’re in the shop, lass,” Jamie corrected her, pretending he wasn’t aware of just how close she was. “That’s me printer’s pseudonym, ken.”

        “Surely, there’s no need to be quite so formal, though,” she said. “Unless there’s another customer present, as well, that is.”

        “Ye’ll nay call me by the name given to me by me family,” the ginger man insisted. “’Tis Mr. Malcolm, or I simply willna respond to ye.”

        Geneva didn’t respond to that mild provocation, but she didn’t need to–and he was glad to feel the Energy of Lord John as he approached the front steps.

        “Crìosd eador sinn agus olc!” he yelped, masking the Sound of soft footfalls coming up the aforementioned steps as he jumped forward and narrowly avoided singing his bollocks on the edge of the forge, at the very least.

        “What on God’s green Earth’s going on in here?”

        Gasping sharply enough to nearly choke on her own spit, the bitch of a lass whirled toward the shop’s door at the Sound of her betrothed’s shocked voice.

        “I think ye’ve eyes that function weel enough to see fer yerself,” the ginger man answered. “But Blessed Timing ye seem to have, Laird John.”

        “Normally, I’d quite disagree with that assessment,” Lord John dead-panned, his gaze locked on his betrothed as she jerked her hand behind herself. “But yes, you’re quite right about the positive function of my eyes–and they’re liking what they’re seeing no more than my brain is.”

        “At least we can agree on that, and naught else,” Jamie said. “Now, the question is this–how much do ye trust me?”

        “Uh, well–I suppose that depends on why you’re asking,” the younger Grey brother answered. “I mean, even though I know you didn’t actually do as accused, you’re still a pardoned man who was charged with a most heinous crime–that’ll take some Time to truly and fully comprehend, I’m afraid.”

        “If I wanted ye deid, you’d have been deid already,” he dead-panned. “And I wouldna have to lay a hand on ye to do it, and I didna Wish to.”