Macgowan Meets His Match. Annette Broadrick

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      Hazel turned into a driveway no more than half an hour’s drive from Stirling, catching Jenna off guard. From the way Ms. Spradlin talked, Jenna had expected to find an isolated home deep in the countryside.

      They followed a narrow lane, and from the way it nestled into the earth, it no doubt had been in existence for centuries. Massive trees marched along on each side, their bare branches arching over like a canopy. Jenna could only imagine their beauty in the summer, covered with green foliage.

      She noticed a large and, no doubt, ancient wall that followed beside the lane. If only those stones could talk, she thought. They must have witnessed a great deal of history.

      The lane made a sharp turn at the end and Hazel drove through an arched opening. Jenna saw a paved parking area in front of an honest-to-goodness castle. This is where Sir Ian lived?

      “This is absolutely wonderful,” Jenna said reverently, looking around her. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to have grown up in such a place. It would be like living in an enchanted castle.”

      Hazel opened the back of the utility vehicle without glancing around. “It’s an ancient piece of rubbish, is what it is, but we’re all quite fond of it. It takes a fortune to maintain, of course. There’s always something to repair. If it isn’t the vintage wiring, we’re sure to find a leaky pipe somewhere.” She pulled Jenna’s luggage out and set it on the ground.

      Jenna grabbed the handle of the heaviest one and leaned to place the one with the shoulder strap over her shoulder. Hazel stopped her. “I can get these two,” she said, matching her actions to her words. She carried the bags as though they were empty.

      Jenna followed her to the entrance. Two beautifully carved doors were set in an arch similar to the one they had driven through. Jenna gazed at the massive example of skilled craftsmanship in awe. Once they entered, Hazel set the luggage into a recessed area near the door and said, “We’ll leave these here for now. Ian is eager to speak with you. Let’s not keep him waiting. Afterward I can show you where you’ll be staying.”

      Jenna looked up and blinked. The lofty ceiling of the great hall soared at least thirty feet. Family crests and giant oil paintings of people from earlier times covered the wide expanse. Immediately beneath the ceiling, fan-shaped windows filled both ends of the four-walled entrance room.

      Hazel paused in front of a closed door near the wide staircase that curved to the second floor. Jenna could almost see the graceful women who had lived here sweep down the stairs in their beautiful gowns.

      The vision abruptly disappeared when Hazel opened the door and said, “Ms. Craddock is here.”

      “Good,” a rumbling voice said. “Send her in.”

      Chapter Three

      Jenna caught herself holding her breath. She consciously took another deep breath, exhaled and stepped into the room. Once inside she discovered a book-lined library that would cause an avid reader—which she was—to mentally salivate with anticipation. She almost chuckled at the idea of living in a castle with access to such a treasure trove of riches. The idea sounded too good to be true.

      She took in everything in the few seconds before she looked at the man standing in front of the fireplace. Once she focused on Ian MacGowan, the room faded into the background. The commanding energy emanating from him inexorably drew her eye.

      She immediately revised her mental picture of a white-haired elderly curmudgeon. Sir Ian bore no resemblance to such a person. For one thing, he was far from old—somewhere in his early to mid-thirties, she guessed. Instead of white hair, his was light brown. It curled riotously over his forehead and around his ears like a young child’s—and looked so soft and silky, her palms itched to touch it.

      She had a sudden vision of a laird standing there, the family crest mounted above the mantel. Golden brown eyes beneath thick brows scrutinized her. A noticeable cleft in his chin drew her eye, and she thought he would be quite attractive if it weren’t for the frown that seemed etched into his face.

      He held a cane in his left hand and she noticed that his weight rested on his right leg. A scar ran along his temple and a smaller one bisected his left brow. There were signs of suffering in his face.

      “Come,” he said, motioning his hand impatiently. “I won’t bite you, for God’s sake. Stop hovering at the door.” He motioned to one of the chairs arranged in front of a brisk fire. “Sit.”

      Now that he had spoken, Jenna could better understand Ms. Spradlin’s reaction to him. His deep voice sent a shiver of sensual awareness through her even while his manner of speaking irritated her. If she was going to be working for him, she needed to set some ground rules.

      “Yes, I will, thank you,” she replied graciously, crossing the room. “As you know, I’m Jenna Craddock and I’ve come to transcribe your work for you. However, I would appreciate your not using dog commands when speaking to me. I’m perfectly capable of responding to entire sentences.” She held out her hand to him.

      He looked at her hand in surprise before he briefly shook it. “Ian MacGowan,” he muttered brusquely, his frown deepening. With exaggerated politeness, he said, “Please have a seat, if you would be so kind.”

      No eye-rolling, she reminded herself. If she intended to work for the man she would need to adjust to his sarcasm and abrupt manner.

      Once she was seated, Sir Ian limped to a nearby chair and carefully lowered himself, his jaw flexing when he bent his left knee. She made a point to focus on his face, most especially his eyes. When he made eye contact she smiled at him, folded her hands and waited for him to speak.

      Abruptly, he said, “You’re not what I expected.”

      Her smile widened. “You come as a bit of a shock, as well,” she said, intending to voice her thought that he would be older. “Mrs. Spradlin didn’t mention—” That was as far as she got when he interrupted her.

      “I’m sure my reputation precedes me,” he said irritably. “That ninny Spradlin must lead a very boring life to get so much titillation out of my search for a decent secretary.”

      Oh, my. Sir Ian was definitely an irascible sort. “She mentioned that you’ve been without an assistant for a few weeks.

      “Through no fault of my own, I assure you. The woman has an absolute knack for sending me the most inept or overly sensitive women who fall apart whenever I frown at them, raise my voice or point out a typing error. The last one left in tears, the silly thing. You’re from Australia.”

      Jenna blinked at the sudden change of subject. “Yes, Sir Ian, I am.”

      He rolled his eyes. “Forget the title and call me Ian.” He pulled at his earlobe. “I’ve asked Ms. Spradlin more than once not to use my title but she’s too busy chattering on to hear me.”

      From her observation during the conversation in Ms. Spradlin’s office, she knew he had been busy interrupting while Ms. Spradlin was speaking.

      “I would think being a knight is a great honor,” she said lightly.

      “You would, would you? Tell me something about yourself,” he said abruptly. “You’re young— I can see that. Are you single?”

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