“What’s all this?” she asked, straightening.
Gabriel hopped down from his perch and tossed the heavy wad of material onto the floor. He didn’t seem angry; in fact, he looked… pleased. And she still had no idea what that meant, damn it all. The man likely smiled at cannonfire. “I’m turning this bed into kindling,” he said.
“It looks like ye’re turning the entire room into kindling. Any particular reason?”
“I’m making it more livable,” he returned. “Speaking of which, did you know half the knickknacks on the shelves back there have strings tied to them? It’s almost as if someone were planning to trick whoever might be sleeping in here into thinking the room was haunted.”
“Hm. Fancy that.” She eyed him. A half smile on his lean face, a plain shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and buckskin trousers stuffed into his worn boots, he looked more like a servant than a duke. But then he was like no other duke she’d ever met, anyway. He certainly had nothing in common with the Duke of Dunncraigh. She’d never expected that to be something she thought of as positive, but that was precisely how she saw it. Now, anyway. “There are a plentitude of other bedchambers up here, ye ken.”
“Yes, but this is the master bedchamber. My bedchamber. Connected to my study. And the sound of the chimney moaning lulls me to sleep.”
His bedchamber.There were only a very limited number of ways to interpret that statement, and she took a quick breath. Her gaze on him, she waved her fingers at the other men in the room. “Lads, give me a moment to discuss someaught with His Grace, will ye?”
Kelgrove stretched his back. “We need to take that other bed apart and haul it in here, anyway,” he muttered, leading the way out the door.
Once the men were gone, Fiona shoved a chair out of the way and closed the door. “Yerbedchamber?” she repeated. “Ye’ve decided fer certain nae to sell it, then?”
“You make a very compelling argument.” He walked up to her. “I hope you’ve thought this through.”
Oh, thank goodness.“Me? Ye’re the one giving up one life fer another, Gabriel.”
Light gray eyes held hers. “I’m not the only one.”
“Ye mean Kelgrove? Is he staying on?”
“If I can find something interesting enough to keep him occupied. But no, I don’t mean Kelgrove.”
Heat slid through her, but she wanted him to say the words. “What are ye talking aboot?”
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I told Dunncraigh I would be keeping Lattimer, and he yelled a great deal. He assured me that I’ll lose half my tenants, my entire staff, and my steward by sunset, being that he’s the Maxwell and I’m an intruding Sassenach.”
She hadn’t considered that. Gabriel’s presence was supposed to aid the tenants, not drive them away. Cold worry slid through her gut. “Is Dunncraigh still here?”
Both of his eyebrows lifted. “Are you suggesting I change my mind?”
Briefly she wondered if any threats not accompanied by a weapon ever troubled him at all. “Nae. But I do think I should gather the staff and speak with ’em before he begins spewing threats. Some of the folk herewilllisten to him, especially if ye dunnae counter his venom.”
His amused expression darkened a little. Eventually he would realize that most men and women weren’t fearless, weren’t so assured they could make their own way in the world. “We’ll both speak to the staff,” he said after a moment. “I assume we can fit them all in the ballroom.”
Fiona turned on her heel. “I’ll see to it.”
He caught her around the waist, pulling her back against him. “See to it in a moment.”
“Gabriel, he could be causing all kinds of mayhem already. If he orders the clan to leave before we can speak to them, yecouldlose most of them. I’m nae jesting aboot that.”
His iron grip didn’t loosen. “You didn’t answer my question. You’re not going anywhere until you do.”
She gave up shoving at his arms and leaned her head back against his shoulder to look up at his face. If any other man had ever tried manhandling her like this, she would have kicked him right in the sensitive bits. When Gabriel held her, the world felt… slower, as if time stretched. She felt it even now, when heaven knew she had urgent matters to see to. Both of them did.
“What question, then?” she asked, trying to sound exasperated rather than infatuated. She didn’t have time today to be infatuated.
“I asked if you’ve thought this through.” His grip tightened a fraction. “You do everything you can to help the people around you. I admire you for that.”
“Thank ye.”
“I’ve just defied your clan chief. At sunset I’ll set him outside on his arse if he hasn’t left before then. He wantsyouto prove your loyalty to clan Maxwell by abandoning Lattimer.” He lowered his face to her hair, his breath a warm, whispering caress. “Are you ready to stand against your own clan?”
Christ in a kilt.“I’m nae standing against my clan. I’m standing against one man who happens to be my clan chief. A man who’s done a piss-poor job of looking after his own.”
