The Laird's Guardian Angel (Highland Lairds Book 3) by Eliza Knight

Author:Eliza Knight [Knight, Eliza]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knight Media, LLC
Published: 2025-01-28T00:00:00+00:00

15

"Laird Sinclair wants to see ye." Duncan stood outside the bedchamber that had been assigned to Calliope, not making eye contact.

The man certainly was as oddball as his leader.

"All right. Will you lead the way, Sir Duncan?"

The warrior looked taken aback, his face draining a little of color as if she'd asked him to come into her chamber for an assignation.

"I won't bite, Sir Duncan. But I will get lost."

He grunted and beckoned her to follow, walking entirely too fast down the corridor, rounding the stairs at a pace that was likely to break one or both of their necks.

"Here, my lady," he said, tapping on the door with his knuckles before marching off down the stairs as if he couldn't wait to be out of her presence.

My goodness.

Calliope waited for the call to come from the inside, but there was only silence. She, too, rapped her knuckles against the wood door, but still, there was no call. Rolling her eyes, she pushed open the door and stared into the dimly lit, very large, empty room.

Sinclair’s study was sans Sinclair.

Calliope let out an annoyed huff. Commanded her attendance and wasn't even in the room. Annoying. Why bother? The nerve. Well, if he wasn't going to be here when he explicitly beckoned her, then she was going to take this as an opportunity to snoop.

She'd never been allowed in her Edgar's study, and she didn't remember if her real father had one at all.

Not that it mattered. If there was a study, it now belonged to her.

There was a wall lined with shelves, each shelf carrying a book or scroll. The wall with windows held weapons of all sorts. As if Alistair might expect to be set upon inside this room. She imagined him hunched over some sort of correspondence, quill in hand, only to toss the inky feather and leap for a weapon to fill his palm. The sight would actually be both comical and exhilarating.

The hearth was lit, but very low. A few banked logs with glowing embers barely gave off any heat. She shivered at the cold in the room. No blazing fire for the master of this castle. Though, to be fair, when they'd been riding together, it was fairly clear the man was a fire himself. She'd been instantly warmed. And how irritating that he'd kept pushing her away, trying to keep all that heat for himself.

Calliope meandered over to the long trestle table in the study's center, quite intrigued by the setup. A massive map spread out on the surface, and the little carved pieces that looked like part of a game of chess were placed all over. Riders on horseback. Ships. Men with swords. Castles. Mountains. Lochs. The map was like nothing she'd ever seen before. A work of art with leaves painted on every tree and castles carved from wood stood on top, making the map come to life. A miniature of Scotland.

She imagined this room was a gathering place, like a second great hall, rather than the laird’s study.

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