He reached for a marker and set it by the north stairs on the map. Dissatisfied, he moved it with two fingers, then put it back. Calum’s warning sat on the table with the map. He needed to make his position known, not just to the house but to their allies.
How in God’s name did he never think of that in the first place?
The map sat still under his hands, but the marks would not settle. He left the study and took the short stairs to the solar on the top floor.
Afternoon light filtered in through the windows facing the garden. Grandmamma sat near one of the windows, with her cane resting against her chair. Erica stood a little to the side, hands folded, listening like a guest who meant to learn before she spoke.
“She’s shy,” Grandmamma said, light as steam.
Erica offered a small smile. “Forgive me. I am still learning the rhythm.”
“Nothing to apologize for, me dear,” Grandmamma said at once. “It only means ye’re a fine match for him.”
She glanced at Alex with pointed fondness. “He needs a voice of reason now and then. Pull him down when he gets carried away on one of his power trips.”
“I daenae get drunk on power,” Alex said.
Grandmamma tilted her head. “Last autumn. The dyke by the south field. Ye swore it would hold through the rain. Ye wouldnae hear the mason who told ye the clay would turn to soup.”
“It held,” Alex insisted.
“It broke on thethird night,” she corrected. “And ye stood in water to yer knees, shouting at the sky as if Mother Nature betrayed ye.”
“That was because it did. The rain has never arrived that early in the past seasons. I believe the act was meant to punish me,” Alex said.
“It had been months, and ye still wouldnae take accountability,” she said. “Ye are some man, are ye nae?”
“I take accountability when it’s there to take,” he said. “That one wasnae me fault.”
“Aye. It was the sky’s fault for letting the rain fall. I believe ye made that point very clear,” she said.
Erica bit the inside of her cheek, and her eyes flicked between them. She said nothing, but the look in her eyes was enough to let Alex know that his back and forth with Grandmamma was nothing but entertainment for her.
Grandmamma pressed on. “Fine. Let us forget about what happened last autumn. What about the lime situation?” she asked.
Alex frowned. “What lime situation?”
He knew what she was referring to. He wouldn’t give her the courtesy of responding immediately.
“Ye wouldnae let Fergus buy it when the north tower needed skimming because ye decided the old mortar would do if a man with strong arms pounded it long enough.”
“The old mortardiddo,” Alex said.
“Afterye bought the lime,” she pointed out.
“I changed me mind,” he said.
“Right. It has absolutely nothing to do with the three men coughing dust,” she said.
“That was their fault,” he argued. “They didnae wet the stone.”
Grandmamma turned to Erica. “Do ye hear him? He will argue the moon down to the river and then claim victory when the tide comes back.”
Erica laughed.
The sound was soft and clean. Alex turned to it before he meant to.
For a moment, the room faded away. Only that sound remained, the surprise of it, and the sharp knowledge that he had not heard anything like it in years. He probably would have asked her to laugh again if Grandmamma hadn’t cleared her throat.
