“If ye dunnae see to it, I’ll burn Lattimer to the ground.”
“My lads and I willnae fail ye. Ye’ve given me all the incentive I need, Yer Grace.”
Gratitude from the chief of clan Maxwell, money, and now Fiona. As the coaches departed and he trotted back up the hill, Ian grinned. The mighty Duke of Lattimer wouldn’t know what hit him.
***
“Read it to me,” Gabriel said, stroking the straight razor along his right cheek. “Your voice makes everything sound more palatable.”
Fiona watched the sure-handed, soapy glide for a moment, unexpectedly mesmerized. It had been so long since the castle had seen anything resembling traditional domesticity, and Gabriel Forrester’s bedchamber would have been the last place she expected to find it. If she kept staring, though, he would accuse her of being softheaded. And if there was one thing she was not, it was softheaded.
Smoothing the missive against her knee, she lowered her gaze to the neat, precise writing. The solicitor probably used a ruler to measure the height of each letter. “‘Yer Grace,’” she read aloud, “‘We can of course accommodate yer request to pay from yer accounts the goods ye’ve ordered to be delivered to Lattimer, as well as freeing more funds fer yer use in Scotland.”
“Well, that wasn’t as bad as I expected,” he commented, moving on to his left cheek. He took more care there, moving the razor parallel to his scar rather than over it.
“Does shaving there hurt ye?” she asked, leaning closer.
“No. I’m just trying to avoid gouging myself.” His light-eyed reflection gazed at her from the dressing mirror. “You’re not helping.”
“Fine, ye ungrateful lout.” Resolutely she returned her attention to the letter. “‘As we have been charged, by ye, with overseeing yer investments, however,’” she went on, “‘I feel we have a duty to inform ye that yer stated plans to restore the Lattimer property are disproportional with regard to the income therefrom derived.’”
“Hm.”
“That means ye’ll be putting in more than ye’ll be getting oot,” she translated.
He made a sound that might have been a chuckle. “I prefer your way with words, my lass. Go on.”
She grinned as much at the way he’d addressed her as his good humor. As he’d said, whatever else happened in their lives, they stood together. As for the fast patter of her heart, she would keep that to herself. Aye, she’d fallen head over heels for him, but Gabriel didn’t need to know that. He had other, far more important, things on his mind. “‘In addition,’” she continued, “‘ye havenae provided us with instruction as to the budgetary requirements of yer Cornwall and Devonshire properties, which could result in their maintenance and repair needs nae being met in the upcoming fiscal year.’” Fiona scowled. “Ye cannae neglect Hawthorne or Langley Park, Gabriel.”
“I won’t. I’ll send letters this evening to my stewards there and ask for their—what was it?—budgetary requirements. Is there more?”
“Mostly some reminders aboot how long these soliciting lads have represented the Lattimer interests and how they look forward to continuing to do so.” She skimmed through the rest of the letter. “And one more important bit. ‘Please understand that if ye continue to put this amount of money toward yer least profitable property over an extended period, ye will be in the position of overseeing nae a shrinking income, but a negative one, which situation cannae, of course, be sustained withoot putting ye in danger of losing assets.’ And then it’s signed and cosigned by a half-dozen men with letters after their names.”
Gabriel wiped the remaining soap off his face with a cloth. “That makes sense,” he said, turning in the chair to face her.
“And ye dunnae find it alarming?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Because I do.” Even if it meant he shouldn’t devote so much time and money to Lattimer so quickly. They’d been failing for a hundred years. He didn’t need to try to restore it in a month.
He reached over to take her free hand and pull her off her perch on his camp trunk and onto his lap. “If the paper men were truly alarmed, they would have used less flowery language,” he quipped, leaning in to kiss her. “They think I’m a half-wit.” Another kiss, openmouthed to meet her eager lips.
“That isnae answering my question,” she insisted, trying to stay on topic even with her voice muffled against his mouth.
“Hard-hearted lass.” With a sigh he touched his forehead to hers. “I think the estate owner in question can devote some unallocated funds to the Highlands property, given the previous decades of neglect it was therein accorded.”
That made her chuckle. “They were correct; ye are a half-wit.”
“Thank you. But if I have to sell off some investments, then so be it.” He kissed her again. “I’m accustomed to not being a wealthy man, Fiona.”
“But ye’re nae a man alone, any longer.”
“Then I need to figure out the minimum numbers necessary to sustain my other two estates, the house in London, and the one in Inverness, and keep that amount available. The rest I can damned well spend as I please. And I please to spend it here.”
He was likely the first duke in history who didn’t care about increasing his wealth and influence, and Fiona truly didn’t want to point that out to him. In fact, the idea of using every available penny to improve Lattimer appealed to her greatly. But was it fair? Not necessarily to the other estates, but to him?
She put her hands on his shoulders and shoved. Gabriel kissed her again, likely to point out that he didn’t have to cooperate if he didn’t choose to do so, before he backed away a breath. “What is it?” he asked.
“I’m worried ye’re doing all of this fer me. That if things dunnae work oot here as they should, ye’ll resent me fer pointing ye toward failure. And ye’ll blame me fer the fact that ye’re neglecting yer other properties when ye shouldnae.” Fiona plucked at the buttons of his coat. “I couldnae bear that, ye ken.”
“Of course I’m doing this for you,” he stated.
