“He will be fine,” Iain said when she poured herself a glass of cool cider. “I would like one of those, too, please.”
She poured one for him and brought them both over to the table. They sat opposite each other and Emily tried very hard not to look at him. At some point during the cleanup she had shifted from being terribly afraid for Neddy to being far too aware that they were alone together. They did not have to worry that someone might walk in on them kissing.
Then her eyes met his and inwardly cursed. There was definitely a look on his face that told her he was also intensely aware of how alone they were and he had plans. Emily was not sure she would be able to refuse his plans. She was not sure she would want to.
“I know he will be fine,” she said. “You are right. He will be well hidden in a crowd of people. I do not think any of these men who hunt us actually know what he looks like, just that they should kill any small child they find with us.”
“All this blood just to get a title,” he murmured, and shook his head.
“It happens more than you think. Enough so that many people attending a funeral wonder if the man’s collapse was truly because of a bad heart or a nudge from his heir. And it is not just a title, is it. It is the land, the money, and the power that comes with it. With all the Stantons dead, there is no one to dispute him.”
“Weel, the men I had Daniel write to for me will find something.”
“If there is anything to find. The attacks are coming here now. Too many will decide it is just an unavoidable danger that comes with this new country. The English do see you all as uncivilized here, almost like a place that is here to take the poor in when they flee from England.”
“How kind of them. There are rich English here.”
“Oh, yes, but they probably became rich through business. Very unacceptable.”
He grinned at her tone, one of pure sarcasm. “I do miss Scotland though.”
“And I miss England. The hedgerows to the cathedrals.” She shrugged. “But there is beauty here. One just has to become accustomed to the differences. Like that spot on the trail you showed me where the hills turned rocky and if you look over the edge there is water. On the other side of the water there is a lovely treed spot which is clearly and beautifully reflected in the water.”
Iain smiled. “I know the place. Have a few drawings of it and am thinking of painting it.”
He had spoken almost absently and it took her a moment to understand what he was saying. “You paint?”
Nodding reluctantly for he had not meant to let that secret out, he said, “Nay as well as my father, but good enough. My father did all the paintings of Scotland we have.”
“They are very beautiful, very peaceful to look at. He was admirably skilled. Did he sell paintings?”
“Aye, when he could. Sold a lot when we stayed in Glasgow until we could afford the voyage over here. There was a lot of work in the city but the pay was poor so we all worked. It was my father’s paintings which got us the most money. We were on our way out faster than any before us. He painted while we were sailing here and sold them when we got to New York and that helped pay for our journey here.” He smiled with an odd mixture of sadness and amusement. “I was the only one interested and he showed me all he could in the time he had.”
“He passed on his skills,” she said softly. “That would have pleased him a great deal.”
“Aye, I think it did.” He finished his drink and stood up. “I need to do a final check on all the animals. Will ye feel all right here alone? If not, ye can come along.”
“No, I shall be fine. I will start supper soon.”
Iain just nodded and strode away. He decided the work that needed doing came at a good time. Sitting there talking with her, knowing they were alone, had his thoughts going to all he wanted to do with her. Later, he promised himself. He was going to ignore the voice scolding him for his plans for a woman who was undoubtedly a virgin and that voice that warned he was sinking more deeply into the trap all women were for a man. If Emily Stanton was a trap, he would step into it willingly and not spend any time worrying about the consequences.
* * *
Emily decided to make a stew. The bread was baking and would go well with a stew. It would also be easily warmed up when the others returned home. She had to decide on what to have for dessert. Mrs. O’Neal had made it abundantly clear that the men of this house had a sweet tooth that needed some feeding as badly as their stomachs did. She had no intention of displacing Mrs. O’Neal but had to admit it was nice to have the kitchen to herself for just a while.
For a short while she could pretend it was her house, her kitchen. It was a foolish fancy, if only because she would never put Mrs. O’Neal out of a job, but Emily enjoyed it and soon the kitchen was full of the good smell of stew and bread. She fussed over a dessert and realized she was trying hard to impress Iain with her culinary skills. Shaking her head at her own foolishness she set the table and was just filling the glasses with milk when he walked in.
“Something smells good,” he said as he sat down opposite her place at the table.
“That is a relief. It is the first time I have prepared a meal all by myself. Well, except for the ones I cooked for my sister.” Emily filled their bowls, put the bread and butter on the table, and took her seat.
After tasting the stew, Iain smiled. “She must have been pleased.”
“I suspect so. David was and often said so. I fear each of his compliments made Annabel less, well, appreciative of my efforts.”
“Jealousy. A poison, my mither always called it.”
“It is in a way, isn’t it. Annabel also sorely missed the food she was accustomed to. I tried to make some things that were similar to ease her homesickness but they did not match her memories.”
