“Welcome to Kettle House.” Mrs. Russell smiled. “Your visit is asurprise.”
“More than that, it is!” Her husband pumped Greyson’s hand. “‘Tis a great honor. Your name is known, sir. I’m an admirer, was even in the crowd down in Edinburgh some years back when you accepted a challenge to run up and down Arthur’s Seat three times withoutpausing.
“You won that day and I’ll never forget it,” he added, smiling. “Even I stayed out in the streets that night, celebrating until the weehours.”
“That was long ago.” Greyson returned the little man’s smile, embarrassed. “I cannae recall why I agreed to such madness – charging up and down a mountain. I wasyoung.”
His host chuckled. “I carried less years then,too.”
Grayson looked at him. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but Irwin Russell didn’t appear at all stern. He did lack color, his clothes gray, his thin, carefully combed hair likewise. Next to his much taller and sturdier wife, he reminded Greyson of asparrow.
“What may I do for you?” Mrs. Russell brought them back to business. “As you surely know, our guests aren’t usually famousadventurers.”
Before Greyson could respond, she lifted the whisky decanter and poured a generous measure. She offered him the tumbler, looking him up anddown.
“So resplendent,” she said after a moment. “You will have drawn eyes on Flourmill Lane. Few men come this way in full Highland dress. Will you be attending a Scottish gala later this evening? Is that the reason for suchmagnificence?”
“He’s a hero.” Irwin Russell shot her alook.
“Many would say the two of you are heroes.” Greyson meant it. “All Aberdeen speaks of your bottomless soup kettle. You can be very proud of yourgenerosity.”
“Aye, well…” Irwin glanced at the floor, nudged the braided runner with the tip of his shoe. “We do what wecan.”
“So are you attending a grand ball after you leave us?” Mrs. Russell was again peering at his kilt andjacket.
“I am a Highlander, no more, no less.” Greyson felt his chest swell a bit all the same. The old blood stirring. “This is a business call and I have no other engagements. The matter I wish to address requiresdignity.”
“I see.” She poured no further drams, so suggesting that the whisky was indeed a nod tohim.
Her husband’s smile slipped. “If you’re here to ask about buying our house, the answer is no. By all respect to who you are, running Kettle House is tradition. We know some folk would love nothing more than gutting the place, turning it into a fancy hotel. Something fine that would attract the gentry, fill an investor’scoffers.”
“We’ve had three offers this year.” Mrs. Russell sighed. “I imagine someday Flourmill Lane will no longer be recognizable, even the old provost’s mansiongone.”
“I understand.” Greysondid.
He’d seen such goings-on all across the land. It was a reason, among others, that he was so dedicated to preserving Gannet House. History was priceless. The past lived on in such places and if they were destroyed, the damage wasirreparable.
“Nae worries.” He took a long sip of whisky and then returned the glass to the table. “I am no’ here about your home or what you do here, much as you have my admiration. And I agree with yourconcerns.”
They waited, the silence punctuated by the ticking of a mantel clock. The clatter of a draught horse and wagon passing the house. Greyson also heard the thudding of his heart – or so he imagined in the quiet. Gods, he felt anything but ahero.
Regardless, he would speak. “The truth is a young woman charmed me. I believe she is yourniece.”
“Ophelia?” Mrs. Russell stared at him. “How is that possible? I do not recall her speaking ofyou.”
“I am not surprised.” Greyson stood straighter. “We only just met. A chance encounter on Samhain Eve at the old Mither Kirk, St.Nicholas.”
“She was there with you? I knew she’d beenout.”
“You didn’t tell me.” Her husband began pacing. “I made it clear to her that such nonsense must stop. It isn’t proper.” He paused by the hearth and shook his head, clearly agitated. “Any number of things could befall her. Brigands, snatched into the sort of house no good woman should know of, anaccident-”
“Nothing happened.” His wife waved him silent. To Greyson, she added, “You looked after her, didn’t you? A man like yourself, above the rougher sort that would be out on such a wild and wickednight.”
“I am no’ above anyone, my lady.” Greyson knew that well. “Indeed, my behavior caused her to flee. In doing so, she tore her shawl.” He took the small piece of silver silk from inside his jacket, extending it on his palm for them to see. “She ran because I compromised her. We shared a kiss and she wasseen.”
“You kissed her?” Mr. Russell came back over to them. “Did she know who you are? If she did, I can see her throwing herself at you. She has fire in her blood, that one.She-”
“Irwin!” His wife stomped on histoe.
