“That’s Miss Signy’s influence,” Donovan said. “He purrs like a kitten when she’s mounted on him.”
“I noticed,” Ramsay said as he brushed out the horse’s neck and back in easy circles. “In fact, he insisted on visiting her at Sea Cottage when I was on the way home.”
Donovan chuckled. “Aye, he’s in love with her.”
“Technically Thor belongs to me, but it seems wrong to break up such a beautiful romance,” he said dryly as he started combing Thor’s mane.
“No matter, all the horses love her. The laird gave her Loki, Thor’s half brother. He’s a gelding, the chestnut in that stall there.” He gestured with his chin. “He’s a fine horse, but smaller. Thor is better for your weight.”
Ramsay glanced over. The gelding was a handsome red chestnut whose coloring complemented Signy’s. He smiled at the thought. “Among the Norse gods, Loki is Thor’s half brother. Is the horse Loki a mischief maker like Loki the god?”
“Nay, he’s a fine riding horse who dotes on Miss Signy,” Donovan said. “I’d hire her to work in the stables if the laird hadn’t claimed her time first.”
As Ramsay circled to Thor’s other side and resumed grooming, he was startled by a flash of gray to his left. He turned and saw that Odin had leaped onto the wall of the box and now stared unblinkingly at Ramsay with his one golden eye.
“Odin!” he exclaimed, surprised at how glad he was to see the cat. “I thought you were gone for good.”
He reached out to scratch the cat’s head and was swatted by Odin’s long paw. But it was a friendly swat, followed by Odin presenting his head in an obvious bid for ear scratching. Ramsay complied, saying, “Has Odin been living in the stables? I haven’t seen him since the night the old laird died.”
“He’s not been here.” Donovan surveyed the cat, who had begun purring under Ramsay’s ministrations. “He used to spend most of his time in the stables and a fine catcher of mice and rats he is. But he moved into the house when the laird became so ill. Kept him good company.”
“He howled and ran into the night when my grandfather died,” Ramsay said. “I was afraid he might have been swept off the bluff in that storm.”
“I expect he had to mourn in his own way,” Donovan said thoughtfully. “Now he’s back and has accepted you as the new laird. You should feel honored.”
“What I feel is manipulated,” Ramsay said with amusement as he continued scratching the cat’s gray head and throat. “He has an impressive purr.”
“And he knows how to use it,” the old groom said with a chuckle. “He seems to be winning you over pretty easily.”
“Let’s see how long he stays with me when I go in the house and start looking at accounts.”
“If there’s food involved, he’ll be there,” Donovan predicted.
“Want to join me?” Ramsay asked Odin. “There might be some cheese in it for you.”
The cat jumped to the floor and sauntered away in the direction of the house. Smiling, Ramsay followed Odin inside and cut a thin slice of cheese when he passed by the kitchen. The cat wolfed it down, then joined Ramsay in the old laird’s study, where he flopped into a patch of sunshine and began to snore.
Ramsay skimmed the most recent account books to get a sense of how the finances looked. The accounts were straightforward, with listings for income and expenditures. Not much of the former in the last three years, though he could see the steady deterioration of his grandfather’s health reflected in the old man’s handwriting.
Then he fished the key to the private file box from the vase that Signy had told him about. These documents were much less clear. Scribbled notes listed names and amounts of money but provided no clue as to what they were for.
He also found a statement showing almost five thousand pounds in the Bank of Scotland, which was headquartered in Edinburgh. If the statement was up-to-date, the money would prove useful, but where had it come from? It didn’t show up in the regular accounts.
His gaze went to Odin, who had shifted to follow the sunshine across the carpet. “What was the old laird up to, Odin?”
The cat rolled over so his back was to Ramsay. No help from him. Ramsay locked the papers up again and hoped that Signy could provide some insights.
Chapter 13
Ramsay blinked in surprise at Signy’s manner of dress when she showed up the next morning for the start of their expedition. She wore a split skirt that fell just past her knees over what looked like heavy black knit stockings and well-worn riding boots. The sight of her shapely legs briefly interfered with his breathing.
Forcing himself to drag his gaze away, he said, “That looks like a very sensible riding costume.”
“It is,” she said imperturbably. “Thorsayian roads are mostly not good enough for carriages, so any woman who wants to travel very far needs to ride, and astride is better.” She gestured at her split skirt and leggings. “This has become quite the costume for fashionable Thorsayian female riders since I came up with the idea.”
He suspected that the outfit had become fashionable not only because it made riding easier but because Signy had the courage to wear it. Where she led, other women followed. He commented, “Englishwomen should adopt something similar.”
He lifted his saddlebags, which had been sitting lopsidedly in the front hall. “I have my notes and some clothing, and the kitchen has provided us with a generous luncheon. I’ve also remembered the first rule of travel on Thorsay.”
