“And what do ye suggest, then? That I kill him? Have him over fer tea?”
Making a face at him, she turned to Mrs. Hortensia Giswell. “Is he… trustworthy, do you think?”
“I… How in the world would I know?”
“Mrs. Giswell, this concerns the safety of those young boys,” she pointed out, making Graeme want to kiss her all over again.
“Oh, dear.” The companion sank into a chair. “Yes, I think he could be trusted with the truth. But not if you kidnap him.”
“Yes, then,” Marjorie said, looking over at him again. “Have him over for tea.”
“Oh, aye. And biscuits. That’d nae make the blacksmith suspicious at all.”Women. One of them had proved to have some tolerable ideas, but they were both definitely English. “I’ll ask him over to look at horseshoes. Ye can chat with him in the morning room. And be convincing, if ye please. I dunnae think that shackle’ll fit his mighty leg.”
“Well, thank goodness for Mr. Polk’s large ankles.” Marjorie took Mrs. Giswell’s arm and the two women left the room.
Now he needed to let someone else in on the goings-on at the Lion’s Den. If this continued, everyone in the valley would know. Most of them he would trust with that information, but there were a few who were more loyal to Dunncraigh than they were to him, particularly with the limited aid and charity he could grant them.
On the other hand, he still didn’t quite trust Brendan even though his brother’s threats and complaints about Ree had subsided over the past few days. And yet he sent Brendan out nearly every day to help the cotters with the preparation for the heavy snow—where the sixteen-year-old had numerous opportunities to betray the lot of them.
Complications piled on top of lies spread over trouble. And in the middle of it, when he should have been concentrating on finding a way to get Marjorie Forrester out of the valley, he continued to look for every possible excuse to have her stay.
Chapter Twelve
Graeme met Robert Polk in the stable. The blacksmith’s dark beard looked less well tended than usual, and the typical grim smile with which he greeted every new challenge had been replaced by a deep scowl. “Laird Maxton,” he said brusquely. “Ye’ve a horse needs shoeing? I’ll see to it, but I’ve other worries today.”
The two of them stood about the same height, but the smith had shoulders molded by years of wielding a heavy hammer, and the rest of him built to match his shoulders. Graeme had never considered having to fight the man, but today could be that day. It would be interesting, at the least.
“Come inside with me, then,” he said aloud. They could do much more damage in the house.
“Yer horse is inside the hoose, then?” Rob asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“Nae. I want a word with ye.”
“I’m here, then. I dunnae belong in a grand hoose.”
Graeme took a half step backward into the muddy stableyard, trying to lure the smith into the open before they spooked the livestock. “I’ve someaught to tell ye, Rob, and I need ye to listen to the end, and to keep what I say just between the two of us. Aye?”
Following him outside, Robert rubbed his beard. “I reckon I can do that. Ye’ve my word.”
“To begin with,” Graeme began, making certain he had room to move if the blacksmith came after him, “ye know Dunncraigh and I arenae bosom friends.”
“Ye dunnae hold with the way he treats the outlying Maxwells. I’ve nae argument with ye there, as I’m one of the outlying Maxwells.”
Resisting the urge to smile mostly so that his amusement wouldn’t come back to bite him in the arse in a few minutes, Graeme nodded. “Thank ye fer that. Anyway, my brothers overheard my last argument with the Maxwell. Then at the Cracked Hearth they realized the Sassenach lass who’d just arrived was the Duke of Lattimer’s sister.”
The smith’s mildly impatient look dropped. “Hortensia’s niece is Lattimer’s sister? Why didnae—”
“Hortensia,” Graeme cut in, the companion’s Christian name odd on his tongue, “isnae Marjorie’s aunt. She’s Marjorie’s companion. When my boys took Ree, Mrs. Giswell didnae want anyone knowing they had a grander prize than they realized.”
“That’s clever, I suppose, but she could have told me the truth.” Slowly he lifted his gaze toward the house. “Hold a bit. Ye mean to say this Marjorie’s been here all along?”
“Aye. I couldnae see my brothers arrested fer taking her.” Graeme inhaled a deep breath. This next part would be tricky. “Once word got oot that I had a Marjorie staying here, I didnae want to risk Mrs. Giswell sending fer Lattimer or soldiers. So I had to… move her here.”
“Ye moved her here,” Robert repeated. “And she didnae bother to tell me where she was headed? The lads got a note to stay put, but I didnae get a thing.”
She hadn’t written the note to the two English servants, but that wouldn’t matter to the blacksmith. “I didnae ask her permission first.”
“Ye… Och. Ye kidnapped her. Just like yerbràthairsdid with the other lass.”
