Hm.The Maxwell chieftain was much friendlier today, in a too grand, completely insincere way. Too grand, in fact, for Hamish to think anyone would fall for it—which made it a very poorly veiled threat.Good. That removed any reason for him to be polite in return. “I expected you three days ago.”
Sir Hamish hesitated for a bare moment, then resumed his stroll forward. Taking the seat opposite Kelgrove, he settled back and crossed a calf over the opposite knee. “I did mean to be here, Yer Grace, to greet ye properly now that we all ken who ye are,” he drawled, flicking an imaginary piece of lint from his dark blue coat sleeve. “But yer arrival has stirred things up some. I spent all afternoon yesterday, fer example, convincing Father Jamie Wansley that yer being at Lattimer didnae mean the king’s army was marching up behind ye.”
This damned business that he somehow meant to murder everyone in their beds hadn’t been amusing to begin with. Yes, he knew how to fight, but he was a soldier, not a brawler and not a damned murderer. For God’s sake, he’d been wearing civilian clothes since that first day, and he’d only snarled at Fiona—and only after she’d snapped at him first. His familial duty had brought him here, damn it all, not his military one. “I hadn’t realized Highlanders panicked so easily,” he returned aloud.
The Scot’s left eye twitched. He’d scored a hit, then. Good. The Highlanders certainly spoke their minds, and he saw no reason why he shouldn’t. He always had before now.
“We dunnae panic,” Paulk countered, his tone more brittle. “We arenae accustomed to having a duke in residence. And we arenae accustomed to having an English soldier aboot. When ye combine—”
“Of course you are,” Gabriel interrupted.
“We are what?”
“Accustomed to having English soldiers about. That’s been your complaint since well before Culloden. Too many redcoats tramping across the Highlands.”
Sir Hamish’s face turned scarlet. “I’ll nae have a Sassenach speak of that place in my hoose,” he growled, gripping his cane.
“This isn’t your house,” Gabriel returned crisply. “And yes, Iama soldier. I was born in 1783, thirty-five years after Culloden. I’ve killed a great many men, but never yet a Scotsman.” He sat forward, holding Maxwell’s gaze. “I want to make that perfectly clear, Paulk.”
“I told ye that I reassured Father Jamie.”
“So you did.” Gabriel straightened from the windowsill. “How many other people have you reassured that I don’t mean to murder them or drive them out of their homes?” They had a word in the army for a man who promised friendship and stirred hate. Calling Hamish Paulk a traitor, though, or a spy, would begin them down a path he’d wanted to avoid.
Maxwell’s fist tightened around the ivory handle of his cane. In response, Gabriel pushed one booted foot into the floor. Perhaps he didn’t need to resort to name-calling. He would allow the Scotsman to move first, only because that would answer several of his own questions. But neither would he be standing there if and when the blow landed.
“I dunnae take yer meaning, Yer Grace,” Maxwell said through clenched teeth, which made Gabriel think he understood it quite well. “I’m a Maxwell chieftain; I’ve a duty to look after my clan. At this moment ye cannae dispute that ye’re a large disturbance. And the people on this land are skittish when it comes to change.”
According to what he’d been overhearing he wasn’t the only disturbance in the area, but he wasn’t supposed to know about the thievery—unless he could twist up Sir Hamish enough to get the chieftain to mention it in his presence. Then he could jump on the information without having to reveal that he’d been eavesdropping on Fiona.
“If it’s a disturbance to bring a bit of order to land I own, particularly when I was brought here because of your own niece’s lack of cooperation, then so be it. And the people on this land, who evidently look to you for reassurance, are going to have to accept that some change is inevitable. And you are not—”
The door swung open again, accompanied by a swirl of soft green and the scent of heather. “Uncle Hamish!” Fiona exclaimed. “Nae a soul told me ye were here! I’d nae have interrupted if I’d known, but I thought His Grace might care to drive oot to see his whisky distillery today.”
She’d been listening to the conversation, then, and had also come to the conclusion that her uncle could be maneuvered into wagging his tongue about the sheep thefts. Clever chit. But she’d given him another opening, and he wouldn’t pass it by. He sorted out problems for a living, after all. And Miss Blackstock happened to be a very stubborn, very attractive problem.
“Thank you, Miss Blackstock,” he said aloud. “I’d be very interested to see my distillery. I wish you’d offered earlier.”
Her mouth twitched in a forced smile. “There’s been a great deal to do.”
“And a great many obstacles to overcome.” Her, chief among them.
This time the amusement in her eyes looked genuine. “This is the Highlands. Some obstacles will nae ever be overcome.”
Nowthisseemed like progress. “I don’t know about that, Fiona,” he returned, using her given name intentionally and liking the way it felt on his tongue. “I’m a very determined man.”
“Ye cannae proceed here like this is one of yer military campaigns, Yer Grace,” Paulk interjected, clearly misreading the true topic of conversation. “It’ll serve ye best to have some patience. Because yer—”
“My mere presence is disruptive,” Gabriel finished. “I’m not convinced that’s a bad thing. It seems to me the lot of you could use some disruption.”
Fiona scowled to herself. There he went, digging at her uncle again. Och, the man was relentless, and worse, clever. He knew something was amiss, and he knew no one would be likely to answer his queries directly. And so he threw hot stones into the pot and waited for it to boil over. “Uncle Hamish,” she said with a too grand smile, trying to put out the fire before Lattimer found a reason to stay on in the Highlands. Because while she’d only known Lattimer for a handful of days, she did know that he would immediately decide the thievery business was his. He was an army major. Nothing was allowed to happen without his permission. “Did ye see the price of wool has gone up? That’s some fair news fer a fine morning.”
“I did,” her uncle said, a touch too sharply. “And that reminds me of someaught. Might I have a quick word with ye? I’ve a letter from the Duke of Dunncraigh.”
She nodded. Anything to separate the two men before something happened. “I’ll be back in a moment, Lattimer.”
Her uncle didn’t stop until they were halfway down the hall and deep into the billiards room. “What the devil are ye aboot?” he demanded, his voice hushed but his eyes fierce.
“What do ye—”
