“Sir Iain,” the newly-introduced Mr. Chalmers said in the expected polite tone to him before the man stared over at the solicitor. “Cairns,” he growled back in the same deep tone that Cairns had used to address him.
The lady’s startled expression told him she’d not known of a past connection between their solicitors. He thought he was going to have to ask about her companion when she blinked several times and met his gaze.
“And this is Mrs. Hugh Hunter.” He waited for more, but she said nothing else.
“Please be seated,” Iain said. “Will you have tea or coffee, Lady Clare?” He nodded at Douglas.
“I am fine, Sir Iain. I would rather get down to business.”
The show was on.Fine.
He expected her to sit in one of the chairs and motioned to Douglas to bring another forward for Mrs. Hunter. As soon as it was placed, Lady Clare spoke.
“Please place those two over there and place this one just there,” she said.
Douglas looked at her and then at Iain, clearly uncertain about who to obey. He tilted his head, and the servant followed her instructions. Then, the lady sat, slightly closer to his desk, with her companion at her side, just inches away from her. Her advisors took places a few feet away from her side and her secretary—with notepad in hand—stood in the corner behind everyone while his own secretary sat next to Iain at a small desk. Looking over those assembled, now in their places for the coming battle, Iain almost laughed as he noticed the result of positioning her staff so—Iain could not look at them and her at the same time.
Lady Clare Logan was the center of this gathering and would not be ignored.
Interesting.
Surprising again.
Something within him felt the challenge of it—the lady giving orders in his own office—and his blood raced from it. He relished a good fight and, until now, until she purposely tasked him in front of his own staff, he was willing to consider her title, her sex, and her relative inexperience to his as excuses for her refusals.
Now?
His nostrils flared as he inhaled the scent she wore—something fresh and flowery without being too frilly. Nay, Mrs. Hunter’s perfume was that obnoxious mix of spring flowers and something else that displeased his senses. Lady Clare sat to all appearances at ease waiting for him to open the discussion.
For the first time in... forever, Iain lost track of the opening he’d planned. Looking into her eyes, he simply and completely lost his wits. Ben saved his arse by handing out copies of the report they’d prepared for this meeting.
“This is simply a review of the most recent offer, my lady,” Ben said.
She took the document and read it over, the list of numbers and definitions and such did not intimidate her or slow her down. As he gave her solicitor and man of business copies of the same, Ben continued his explanation. And as Iain had directed, the man who managed did not lessen the number of details shared, the financial terms or the expected timing of the contracts.
Having done this before, Iain watched and allowed his men to do what they did best, not needing to add more than a comment or two or to answer a question along the way. And he fought the growing admiration for her with every word she spoke. This was no reticent lady of society. Nay, she was quite knowledgeable in many aspects of planning, architecture, raising funds to finance the building and the like. And Lady Clare even answered a few questions he had no response to.
His cock hardened more with her every word, every question and especially every bloody time she looked at him. Iain clutched the edge of the desk and prayed he would not humiliate himself when she slid her lower lip out into a pout as she read one of the pages.
Had she any idea of her effect on him and his ability to attend to his business matter? Did she know that he was aroused now or had been the last time they’d been together? Iain shifted now, praying his cock did not bang on the bottom of the desk and bring attention to his lack of control over her!
Listening to Ben’s answer to this last question from Lady Clare’s solicitor, Iain knew he needed to walk, or he would do something incredibly stupid. He caught Douglas’ eye, nodded and then waited for Ben to finish. When he had, Iain spoke.
“Thank you, Gilchrist. You have given Lady Clare much to consider.” Iain faced the lady and her companion. “This went on much longer than I expected, so I’ve sent for tea and refreshments.” Lady Clare stood and everyone else in the chamber did as well.
“May we speak privately, Sir Iain?”
“My lady?”
“Perhaps you could show me around your facilities?”
He glanced at her business advisors, and none raised even the slightest objection or suggestion about how it might be ill-advised to be alone with him during this critical time. Not that she was in danger of harm, but because the negotiations were at a delicate place. She was, after all, a widow and did not require the same level of circumspection that society required of an unmarried woman. Still, Iain gave Mrs. Hunter one last chance to tag along in case Lady Clare wanted a companion before gesturing for the lady to precede him from the office. He turned back for a moment and noticed that Cairns and Chalmers stood on opposite sides of the room but in the same exact stance—one he’d taken many times, so he recognized it immediately. Feet apart, arms crossed over chests, shoulders back, chins out.
The two solicitors were sizing up their enemies.
Well, in this situation it might be more about opponents than actual enemies. Or so he thought as he stepped out to let Douglas pass with a tea cart. One last glance told him his first impression had been the correct one—the two men were enemies on some level. That was interesting. Now though, Lady Clare Logan drew his attention, and he would sort out the two men in private.
“My lady,” he said as he guided her through a door at the end of the hallway. It led to the edge of this part of the second floor which was more a loft or balcony as it projected over the warehouse’s main floor below. “This is the center of my—”
