She was dangerous all right.More dangerous than she realized.
Chapter 9
“Do ye need more tea for yer head, mistress?Or a tonic, perhaps?”Mrs.Robeson hovered around Jessa like a wee bird that couldn’t decide where to light.
“No, thank you.”Jessa didn’t look up from the book she was slowly paging through.
Grant smiled to himself, risking a glance at her from where he stood at the window, watching for Henry and that infernal witch.He had warned the lass about the motherly housekeeper.She would do well to learn that he was only trying to help when he offered advice.
“But ye ate nothing,” Mrs.Robeson said while fussing with her apron, smoothing it back in place, then wringing it around her hands all over again.“Was none of it to yer liking?Cook was shocked at the untouched plates the lads carried back to the kitchen.She’s frettin’ something fierce.Afraid she’s displeased ye.”
“I am sure everything was wonderful,” Jessa said, still not looking Mrs.Robeson’s way.“I would love another pot of coffee if she has time.”Jessa closed the book and shoved it back on the shelf between the others.“Other than that, I’m fine.If I get hungry later and there’s nothing to be had, then it will be no one’s fault but my own.”
The housekeeper drew herself up and hissed like an angry cat.“If the mistress of this house be hungry at any time, day or night, there will always be something to be had, I’ll grant ye that.”
“I am not the mistress of this house,” Jessa said quietly, but her tone rang with determination and the tiniest bit of hopelessness.
Grant allowed himself a heavy sigh.Damn that Mairwen for dropping them both into this unnecessary tempest.“Mrs.Robeson, leave the lass be.When she’s hungry, I’m sure she will tell ye.”
“But—”
“Mrs.Robeson.”
The kindly old woman bowed her head, but her displeasure showed in the hardened set of her jaw.“Aye, my lairdandmy lady.”She flounced out of the solar and thumped the door shut behind her.
“So, does that mean I don’t get my second pot of coffee?”
“Soon as she calms down, she’ll remember yer request and send it up.”
Jessa nodded, then meandered around the room.She seemed even more unsettled than when she’d first arrived.But he supposed that made sense.After all, she now knew more about this strange situation in which she found herself.
“So what do you do?”she asked after her third lap around the room, where she’d lightly run her fingers across every book, bauble, and piece of furniture.
“Do?”
“As a laird.If I weren’t here.What would you be doing?”
“Sleeping.”It came out before he could catch it, but at least it was the truth.
“Sorry.”
“My lack of rest is not entirely yer fault.A necessary venture night before last kept me from my bed, and then last night, I was concerned about ye.”
“I’m fine,” she spat out so fast that it painted the words as the lie that they were.“Or I will be.Once I figure everything out.”She went to the window and scowled outside.“I don’t think it rained this much in the future.”
“Today’s rain is?—”
“Tomorrow’s whisky,” she finished, then snorted an unhappy laugh.“I know.Lilias at the pub in Seven Cairns taught me that the day I was caught without mybrolly.”
“Brolly?”he repeated slowly.
“Scottish slang for umbrella.Or maybe British slang for it?I don’t know.All I know is that I’d never heard the word before until I came to Scotland.”She propped her shoulder against the window’s inset alcove of stone.“So if you’d caught up on your sleep last night, what would you do today?As a laird?”
His usual leeriness reared its head, the leeriness of a successful smuggler.“Survey the grounds.Ensure all is secure and well.Provide for those in need and settle any grievances among my people.
She cut a sideways glance his way.“You don’t trust me.”
“Why would ye say such a thing?”He almost smiled at her craftiness but held it back.This sly lady was indeed a delightful challenge.
