“What would she do?”
“Rip their throat out, I reckon,” he said coolly, in the same tone another man might use to discuss the weather. He took his greatcoat from Pogue and shrugged into it as the butler helped her on with her full-length black redingote with its puffed sleeves and ivory buttons.
“Are ye permitted to wear colors now?” Callum asked, gazing at her as she turned to face him.
“Yes. I’m wearing color. Violet.”
“Violet’s a half-mourning color. Ye’re nae still in mourning.”
“Not officially. Are you going to dictate what I’m wearing now?”
“Nae. I’m just wondering whether ye’re still mourning, or ye’re just aiming to look like ye are. To discourage anyone from pursuing ye, for example.”
She began unbuttoning the redingote again and unknotted the ribbon about her waist. “I’m not going to dinner with you if you’re going to lambaste me every second.”
Callum took the black silk ribbons out of her hands and knotted them back around her, the tug and twist of it far too intimate for her peace of mind. “I’ll wager ye five quid that I can keep up a polite conversation longer than ye, Rebecca. How’s that?”
God, she hated already when he gazed at her like that, as if he could see straight through her skin and into her soul. Of course if he actuallycoulddo that, she wouldn’t have to keep defending herself about Ian’s death. “I’ll take that wager, sir. On one condition.”
“Aye?”
“That you won’t simply throw five pounds at me the moment we leave the house so you can continue berating and questioning everything I do or say.”
“Agreed,” he said promptly, in his deep brogue.
Since she stood there in her theater gown and coat, he’d left her with no other excuse not to join him. She was somewhat relieved, though, when the barouche appeared at the front of the house. He didn’t mean to drive them himself, and he hadn’t chosen a closed coach. Ofcourse that might well be because he wanted to be seen again going about Inverness, rather than because he cared for her sensibilities.
Outside he handed her into the barouche himself, then took the rear-facing seat opposite her. Hopefully her relief didn’t show on her face, but she would much rather be able to keep both eyes on him than have him seated directly beside her.
“Are ye warm enough?” he asked abruptly, gesturing at the folded blanket on the seat next to her.
“Yes, thank you. Are you?”
“My knees are a wee bit chilly, but I’ll manage,” he returned. “There’re more lights along the river Ness than there used to be. It’s pretty.”
“The population in Inverness grows every year. They may not call it the Clearances any longer, but villages in the countryside continue to shrink or vanish as their chiefs try to hold on to their lands.”
“I see it in America,” he agreed, his mild tone a continuing and pleasant surprise. Perhaps he desperately needed the five pounds he’d wagered. “Half of Kentucky claims one clan or another. There isnae so much rivalry there, though. Mostly it’s Highlanders against the rest of the world trying to call the place home.”
“So you… work with men from other clans?” she ventured. Ian had said something about a distillery, but Dunncraigh had been present and had turned it into some jest about how much liquor Callum must be consuming there, and she hadn’t brought it up again.
“I employ about a hundred men from about a dozen clans, I’d reckon. At Kentucky Hills I’ve space for forty or so, but then I’ve the warehouse in Boston and the one we’re building now in Charleston for better distribution, plus the nearly finished one here in Inverness. I’ve discovered if I lease a warehouse from someone else, they tend to sample the wares.”
“Then Kentucky Hills is yours alone?”
He narrowed one eye, shifting a little as they bumped over the wooden, hollow-sounding Black Bridge. “How much did ye and Ian ken about where I was?”
“As I said, Ian went to great expense to track you down. He told me a little, but…”
“But ye didnae want to know any more than that,” he finished.
“No, I didn’t. You broke Ian’s heart. You…” She hesitated. Where hearts were involved this was a tricky business, and telling him anything of her feelings, even more so. “You broke my heart, as well.” He opened his mouth to respond to that, but she lifted her hand. “Not the way you’re going to imply, I’m certain. You were my friend. My dearest friend.”
“If I was all that, I dunnae think ye would have kept yer engagement a secret from me.”
“Of course I would have. I did. I know you.”
He shook his head. “Ye knew me,” he amended. “Ye dunnae know me.”
