“Widowed actually,” Nicol replied, adding hoarsely, “My wife passed away four years ago.”
For a moment, Lindsay couldn’t reply—the grief in Nicol’s blue-grey eyes affected him viscerally—he couldn’t tell if the pain in his chest was sorrow or jealousy.
At last he managed to get out stiffly, “My condolences.”
Nicol nodded.
After a few silent moments, Nicol gave a sigh. Then he said quietly, “If you really want, I will take you to see the plots. I do warn you though, the ground is filthy and I fear the mud will ruin your shoes. It may be better to do this another day, when you are more sensibly shod.”
“No, no,” Lindsay replied. He wasn’t sure why Nicol had relented, but he wasn’t about to let this chance pass him by. “Let us strike while the iron is hot, Mr. Nicol. I will take my chances with the mud.”
Chapter Six
“And so,” Lindsay said, as he stepped delicately through another filthy puddle. “This is the ‘New Town’ I’ve heard so much about.”
Nicol glanced at him over his shoulder, coming to a halt when he saw how far Lindsay was lagging behind. Nicol’s sturdy leather boots were far more suitable for the quagmire they were presently traversing than Lindsay’s once beautiful but now sadly besmirched shoes.
“Building houses is a messy business,” Nicol said calmly as he waited for Lindsay to catch up with him.
“I see that,” Lindsay replied dryly. He searched the ground for a safe spot on which to set his next step.
“If you’re hoping I’ll set a cloak down to spare your ridiculous shoes, I’m afraid you’re doomed to disappointment.”
Lindsay looked up. “You mean you won’t be my Sir Walter Raleigh?” he asked, pouting prettily.
Nicol’s handsome face flushed and he gave an embarrassed sort of laugh. “No, of course not.”
“Pity,” Lindsay said regretfully. “I think I’d make a ravishing Good Queen Bess.” He batted his eyelashes at Nicol, who hurriedly turned away.
“Well, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to get your shoes dirty,” he said, striding away again and leaving Lindsay to follow. “I did warn you.”
Lindsay sighed, accepting that there really was no way of doing this without getting filthy. He set off after Nicol again, trying not to shudder as his feet sank buckle-deep into the mud. Ahead of them, he could see a crew of working men, clambering around a maze of foundations and part-built walls, teams of them shifting huge stones with workhorses, while others set the blocks in place. All of them labouring and straining.
Stonemasons. Hard men who did hard work.
A man of around fifty, who appeared to be overseeing the men, waved at Nicol as he approached. He was smiling at Nicol, and Lindsay could see it was a genuine smile. Lindsay hung back as Nicol stepped forward, watching as Nicol shook the older man’s hand and clapped his shoulder, his bearing friendly and respectful. Once they’d greeted one another, Nicol removed his tricorn hat, raking one hand through his thick fair hair. He was listening to the overseer intently and even smiled briefly at something he said, his usual grim countenance briefly lightening, filling Lindsay with a strange and burning envy.Hewanted to be the one to make Nicol smile like that. More, he wanted to make him laugh. Make his eyes glint with interest and warm with desire.
