Wake Me With a Kiss: A Fairy Tale Retelling (Regency Fairy Twists Book 1) Read Free

traditional
Highland garb that had no place in the lowlands.
    “Who are ye?” he demanded.
    Her scowl deepened and she stood, snatching up her basket as though he
might be very interested in her lone piece of ham.
    “I asked first.”
    “But yer the trespasser.”
    “I certainly am not!”
    Those mossy green eyes were not so mossy when they stared up at him. In
fact, they were becoming more interesting by the moment, and he’d certainly
never been interested in moss. Dark green at the center, radiating out to an
almost sea green, then finished with a ring of dark color that he supposed had
given him that plant-like impression.
    She peered at him as though he was crazed, and he realized he was staring
into them for too long.
    “Yer on my land,” he stated.
    Yet again, her gaze ran the length of him. He’d never been so aware of
his height and stature before. In battle, his oversized body had been useful—apart
from when it came to ducking bullets. But now he felt like an ogre or a giant,
come to feast on this wee little lass.
    However, though there was certainly distrust in her gaze, she did not
seem frightened of him. In fact, she raised her chin and directed her challenging
stare at him.
    “This is the land of the Laird of Baleith.”
    “Aye.”
    She tilted her head. “The laird is six and fifty years.”
    “He was.”
    “Was?”
    “Aye. He died several weeks ago.”
    “He did?” Her eyes widened and she took a stumbling step back. He instinctively
reached for her and helped her straighten, but she shook off his touch.
    He flexed the hand that had met her skin. A mild burning sensation had
struck him the instant they had touched. He tried to shake it from his mind but
he could still feel it, still recall the softness of her skin.
    Hamish opted for looking over her head. Golden strands of hair curled
from it in wild disarray. What had once been a braid now looked to be a misshaped
wodge of hair. Slightly brighter strands curled around her face, drawing
attention to the pointed chin and tightly pressed together lips.
    Damnation, now he was looking at her mouth.
    He forced his attention back to her eyes. Aye, they were far too
intriguing but if he continued on the path he was on, he’d end up staring at
her figure and he could not allow that.
    “The laird had a fall. He died from his injuries, unfortunately.”
    “I did not know.”
    “Well, now you do.”
    “But why would I not know?”
    “I’m not sure. Do ye know all that goes on around here? Forgive me for
not telling ye as soon as he hit his deathbed,” he said, his tone dry.
    “There’s no need to be rude. I am just sure my aunt would have known.”
    “I can be as rude as I like, lass. Yer standing on my land.”
    “You cannot really be a laird. No laird would speak in such a manner.”
    Whoever this stranger was, it was apparent she felt she should know all
that occurred on his private land. He chuckled. “Well, this one does.”
    She clutched the basket close. “You should be ashamed, speaking such
lies and besmirching the name of a good man.”
    “Aye, Cousin Malcolm was a good man, I shall agree with ye on that, but
I dinnae think me speaking the truth counts as besmirching.”
    “Cousin Malcolm?”
    She took several steps back, nearly stumbling again. Though he went to
steady her again, she dodged his touch, much to his disappointment. He could
not help wonder if it would feel the same, if that strange tingling sensation
would strike him again.
    “Aye, Cousin Malcolm. The late laird. Ye remember him? We were just
discussing him.”
    “There is no need to be sarcastic.”
    There wasn’t, she was right. And yet he could not help himself. He was not
sure why but this lass encouraged it in him. She clearly did not feel he was
good enough to be a laird. Frankly, he wasn’t sure he was either. Yet it riled
him that she should judge him instantly. Who was she anyway?
    “Ye shall have to forgive my manners,” he said as sincerely as he