“By car! I keep telling you, I left it on the road!”
His handsome features folded into a frown. “What is this ‘car’ ye keep talking of? The name of yer horse? If so, where exactly did ye leave it and how would ye return to it?”
He had her there. How would she get back to her car if she didn’t know where she was? And what transport could she use to get there, anyway? It was certainly too far to walk, even if she knew the way.
Reid folded his arms across his broad chest and regarded her. “It seems to me that if I released ye, I would have two choices: turn ye out of the castle and let ye go yer own way, or escort ye to this Tarness of yers—a place I’ve never heard of. I dinna have men to spare to escort ye anywhere, so that is out of the question. And if I take the first option, what’s to stop ye running straight to the Muirs to tell them everything ye’ve learned?”
“That again!” Abi cried, throwing up her hands. “How many times do I have to tell ye I’m not a bloody spy!”
“That’s exactly what a spy would say.”
She clenched her fists. How dare he accuse her when he was the one in the wrong here? “Is that why you had Thomas and Clyde following me? Despite promising that I was free to go where I wanted?”
“And did they stop ye going anywhere ye wanted?”
“That’s not the point and you know it! I want to go home!” She hated how her voice cracked on that last word and she bit her lip to stop the tears that pricked her eyes. She wouldnotshow weakness in front of this man.
Reid said nothing, but to Abi’s surprise, his expression softened slightly and something like pity crossed his features. “Ye will go home, lass,” he said. “I give ye my word. On my life, ye will come to no harm while ye reside here and when this is all over, I will make sure ye get home.”
Abi’s breath caught. “And until then?” she asked softly.
“Until then, ye will abide here in Dun Treve,” he replied, just as softly. “With me.”
His eyes caught and held hers. The way he was looking at her sent a tingle right down her spine. But it wasn’t fear. It was...something else. Something she wasn’t sure she could put a name to. Which was ridiculous, of course. She barely knew the man, and the little she did know suggested that he was completely mad. What normal kind of person went around playacting at being some medieval lord?
Oh, heck. Abi, get a grip,she told herself.
She glanced at the pile of documents on the desk, eager to fill the silence. “Seems I interrupted your work.”
“Work?” he snorted, turning to look at the desk and gesturing helplessly. “More like torture. If this is what a lord does every day, ye can keep the job, thank ye very much.”
He looked so disgruntled that Abi found herself smiling slightly. “I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”
“Nay?Yetry running a castle full of lazy, illiterate oafs who dinna know their arse from their elbow and who complain like old women at every opportunity.” He rubbed his forehead. “Give me a battlefield any day. Far easier to manage.”
“It’s only admin,” Abi said. “You just need to be organized. Once you’ve got a system in place, it gets easier.” She cocked her head, looking at the documents strewn over the table. “May I?”
Reid arched an eyebrow. “Be my guest.”
Abi crossed to the large wooden desk and examined the documents. There was no order to them and Reid had tossed them higgledy-piggledy instead of having a well-stacked in-tray like any self-respecting manager. The documents were written in a mixture of English and Gaelic so she couldn’t read some of them, but she made out lists of supplies, orders for new goods to be made, and various other things she couldn’t make head nor tail of.
“What exactly are you trying to do?”
“Get this place functioning so that the castle doesnae fall to ruin and we dinna starve or kill each other before Laird Campbell can raise his army.” He rubbed his forehead again, clearly exasperated. “Although I’m beginning to think it would be easier to herd cats.”
Abi smiled. “Nope. Tried it. There’s always some little tabby who runs off and hides under the furniture.” She pulled over a document that contained a list of names, with a task jotted down next to each name. Hunting. Picket line. Scouting. Kitchen. Many were crossed out or written over.
“What’s this?”
Reid sighed. “I was trying to do what ye suggested, lass, and assign a task to each of my men.”
“You were?” Abi said, a little startled. He’d taken her advice? For some reason, she felt unaccountably pleased by that. She examined the parchment again. “Seems like you didn’t get very far.”
Without being invited, she seated herself in the hard wooden chair. “Do you have a pen?”
“A what?”
“Something to write with?”
