“Not particularly.” Whatever her loyalties, he wasn’t about to cause trouble—more trouble—for her with her clan. “She clearly cares for Lattimer and the people here, and as I said, she’s done a fine job with what she’s had.” He paused, abruptly realizing that he’d already decided who Lattimer’s next steward would be. Replacing her would do her harm, and he’d rather cut off his own arm than injure Fiona. He sent a quick mental apology to Kelgrove both for dragging the sergeant into the Highlands and for putting him into the middle of this without warning him first. “I found her lack of cooperation damned annoying. In fact, I brought my own man in to take over her duties, once we’ve learned the routines.”
Green eyes turned to find Kelgrove standing silently beside the closed door. “Another Englishman, aye?”
“Yes,” Gabriel answered. “Sergeant Adam Kelgrove. My aide-de-camp.”
“Ye dunnae mean to take on Lattimer yerself, then?”
“I haven’t resigned my commission, Your Grace. And there is still a war being fought on the Continent.” And men who relied on him to keep them alive.
At the moment, though, he was more interested in tonight. Dinner would likely be another chess game, another contest of insults and diplomacy of the sort he detested. But the game he truly looked forward to was the one that would take place when the rest of them had gone off to bed. He meant to call on Fiona Blackstock. And no one was allowed to interrupt, this time.
***
“Why didnae ye tell me that Dunncraigh tried to purchase MacKittrick?” Fiona whispered, as she brought her uncle a glass of port. She wanted one herself, after the longest and most silent dinner in the history of the Highlands.
“What concern is it of yers?” Hamish returned, his gaze squarely on Gabriel’s red-coated back as the duke poured himself a glass of something from the liquor tantalus. “Bloody lobsterback.”
“Because if the Maxwells took it back, I assume ye or one of Dunncraigh’s sons or nephews would move in here. None of ye would require a steward.” Aye, she was being selfish. And she was equally certain that shewouldhave been nudged out of her employment. Even so, she wasn’t certain why no one had bothered to say anything. Wanting to take back an old holding back didn’t seem like it needed to be a secret, and she’d been the Maxwell overseeing it for the past four years.
“Clearing the Sassenach oot of the middle of the Highlands would be a boon fer all the clan. So stop yer whining over who told ye what.”
“I’m nae whining. I’m asking ye a question,” she retorted, thankfully remembering to keep her voice down. “And as fer being good fer us all, well, the clan hasnae been doing a damned thing to help me with anything here. I’ve arranged it so the hoose employs nearly a hundred servants.That’saiding the clan. If MacKittrick sinks into the mud, that’s a hundred more mouths fer the rest of ye to feed, and that doesnae include Strouth or the fishermen and their families, or anyone at the textile and porcelain works.”
That seemed to earn his full attention. He faced her, eyes narrowed. “Dunnae ye go dictating to me, lass. I convinced His Grace to let ye have a go at running MacKittrick in the first place. And that wasnae an easy thing, with the example yer own brother set.” Glancing away again, no doubt to see if Gabriel had wandered within earshot, he turned back to point a forefinger in her face. “Ye may work here, but ye’re a Maxwell first and last. Yer duty is to me and to Dunncraigh. Nae to that Sassenach. Ye’d best remember that.”
“Of course I remember that.” Trying to explain that what Gabriel was doing to stop the thefts was also in the best interests of clan Maxwell would likely only get her a cuffed ear. But by all the saints, she’d spent years trying to keep the people here fed and clothed and protected, and for most of that time she’d had no support at all. A man who took action wasn’t supposed to be a rarity in the Highlands, but it had been here at Lattimer—until Gabriel had arrived. She likely should have seen that earlier, and certainly she should have noticed how unacceptable it was.
“Keep it in mind, the next time ye’re tempted to tell him aboot missing sheep or where we hide the whisky. Now go away. If Lattimer asks ye what we’ve been discussing, ye can tell him I was admiring the way he stepped in to stop the thievery. Arrogantamadan.” With that last grumble he turned away and walked off to stand with Dunncraigh and the Maxwell’s nephew, Artur. Evidently the duke’s son and heir, Donnach Maxwell, was too precious to risk this close to a Sassenach.
“That looked pleasant,” Gabriel’s voice came, and she started. He’d moved to gaze out the window behind where she sat, but she’d never heard him approach.
The hair on her arms lifted, and with an annoyed cluck she briskly rubbed her forearms and picked up her cup of tea. “Family business,” she returned, from behind the cup.
“You do recall that you work for me, I hope,” he said, humor touching his low voice.
“Do I? I seem to recall a contrary opinion or two about that.”
“Not from me. Not tonight.”
She wanted to turn around and look at him. For Boudicca’s sake, she’d been spinning for days. And now he’d twisted her about again. Acceptance? Appreciation? Or was this some sort of ploy to make her a spy against her own? “Do ye wish me to bow to ye, then?” she asked, trying not to show that he’d ruffled her.
“I’ve never asked anyone to bow to me, and I certainly wouldn’t make the mistake of suggesting that you be the first.”
She took a breath. His expressions were difficult enough to read when she could see them, and she was beginning to think she might be dreaming. Otherwise she couldn’t conjure a reason why he would suddenly decide she could keep the job for which she’d been fighting. “Ye expected someaught from someone, or ye wouldnae be wearing that damned uniform.”
“Ah, that,” he mused. “It’s what I am, as you’ve so often pointed out.”
“Ye didnae wear it fer me. Ye wanted Dunncraigh to see it.”
“Clever lass.” He took a swallow of something; whisky, she presumed, since his scowl at the after-dinner port had practically turned the contents of the bottle to vinegar. “Any idea how long my uninvited guests will be staying?”
“I dunnae imagine they’ll be here long. The duke wanted a look at ye, to size ye up.”
Another pause. “So I’ve been measured now, have I?”
If she kept talking to him, she was going to float away, given the amount of tea she was having to consume to conceal her mouth from the other men in the room. “I reckon ye have been. And thanks to that stuffy nonsense ye spouted aboot scaring away the thieves, I imagine he thinks ye just above an imbecile.”
“Good.”
