Once his ward had realized they were on to her hiding place in the Laird’s Lug, the wee space held no interest for her. Instead, she had discovered there was an entire mountain range to explore beyond her bedroom window.
Over the past week, both Leah and Fox had spent more than one frantic hour searching the castle for the girl, only to have her come racing in off thebraes, smelling of heather and fresh mountain air.
William shook his head. “No, it isn’t Miss Madeline.”
“My wife, then?”
Though what situation involving Leah would require his attention?
The woman had the house running like a well-oiled automaton, pieces moving in and out with choreographed precision.
The kitchen produced delicious meals on demand.
More furniture and other decorative bits arrived every day, slowly turning the barren castle into an elegant, welcoming residence.
Just yesterday, Leah had consulted with him about ordering livery for William and the footmen. And then had smiled up at him, looking so earnest and clever, Fox had to forcibly stop himself from kissing her.
Such wayward desires had been tempting him with greater regularity. The nip of Leah’s waist pleaded for his hands. The slope of her throat begged for his lips. His arms often felt empty, and he knew that only the warmth of her body could fill them.
It was the most exquisite torture.
And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.
Leah kept to herself—never seeking his company—and she clearly disapproved of his drinking habits. Nothing about her demeanor suggested she would welcome his advances.
Better to let the thoughts go than risk upsetting the pleasant flow of their days.
William shifted on his feet. “I believe Mrs. Carnegie to be well. She is currently on the roof.”
“The roof?”
“Aye. One of the footmen reported that Wee Tam needed her tae inspect one of the chimneys.”
Wee Tam, again? And . . . the roof?
William continued, “I simply need tae know if you’re receiving visitors today, Captain.”
“Visitors?” Fox glanced at the letters awaiting his reply. Had his solicitor come to chastise him in person?
“Aye. Mrs. Carnegie’s brothers—Mr. Malcolm and Mr. Ethan Penn-Leith have arrived. Are ye at home to visitors?”
His wife’s brothers? And ‘at home,’ as if he were a lordling in Mayfair?
Good grief. William was letting thoughts of dashing livery go to his head.
“Of course, I’m at home.” Fox lived ten miles up a Highland glen. The very idea of holding visiting hours like some London dandy was absurd. “I wonder if something is the matter?”
Frowning, Fox stood, reaching for his coat. His leg pinched, and he listed sideways. William jumped forward, hand outstretched, ready to catch the captain should he go down.
Fox’s frown deepened.
“I cannae say, precisely.” The butler stepped around Fox and lifted the coat, holding it out for Fox to slide his arms in. “They’re in the great hall, waiting for ye.” William motioned for Fox to straighten out his hair.
Fox was torn between irritation and gratitude. Was his appearance as bad as all that?
A glance in the mirror over the fireplace confirmed that yes, indeed, it was. He tamed his hair with a few fingers. And then straightened his neckcloth for good measure.
“Please inform my wife of the gentlemen’s arrival.” Fox reached for his walking stick. “In the meantime, I will greet my . . . brothers-in-law.”
