“‘The Gathering Storm’ series. Some of my better work.” Sophie’s eyes narrowed. They were green and rather catlike. “Is this Signy any good? Teaching an incompetent would-be artist is painful for both parties.”
“Well, Kai and I like her work, and he’s far more knowledgeable about art and antiquities than I. Here are some samples.” Broc pulled out the watercolors he’d brought from his portfolio and laid them on the desk in front of Sophie.
She took her time studying each picture before laying it aside. Broc held his breath, unable to read Sophie’s opinion from her expression.
When she was done, she squared the pictures carefully and looked up at Broc. “She’s very talented. I see why my work appeals to her.”
“You seem to be kindred spirits,” Broc said.“You both like weather.”
Sophie actually smiled. “That’s reducing it to the basics. But yes, your Signy and I do have similar sensibilities, and it would be lovely to leave London for the islands again. How much would the honorarium be, how and when would I travel there if I agree, and how will I return home again?”
Broc told her the amount of the honorarium, then continued, “If you decide to do this, I’ll escort you to Clanwick on a Thorsayian ship. You’d stay in the laird’s own residence, Skellig House, which is nearby Signy’s home. It’s no Blenheim Palace, but it’s a sizable and pleasant house. We’ll sail on one of the laird’s own ships, and I guarantee that no man aboard will raise a hand to you.”
He must have sounded rather fierce, because she gave a wider smile. “If a sailor does, you’ll take that hand off?”
“I didn’t mean to sound ferocious,” he said with a touch of embarrassment. “A sailor wouldn’t be much use with only one hand. But I assure you that I will stop any such behavior immediately.”
“I’m sure one good military scowl would intimidate most common sailors.” She looked down at her hands, folded on the desk. “I’m sorry I sounded so angry before. I’ve had . . . some bad experiences.”
“The curse of being attractive, I assume,” he said thoughtfully. “Some men are blinded by pretty faces.”
“Exactly so.” She gave him a genuine smile. “I accept, Major Mackenzie. It will take me at least a week and perhaps as much as a fortnight to collect the materials needed to teach your Signy and make arrangements for my departure. Is that satisfactory?”
He would have preferred to sail sooner, but he must work with her schedule. “Very well. Though she’s not my Signy.”
“Whose Signy is she?”
Broc was so surprised that he replied. “Kai Ramsay’s, I think. The three of us were neighbors, and we grew up together. Friendship seems to be changing into something more for Kai and Signy, though I don’t know for sure.”
Sophie grinned and looked like a mischievous seventeen-year-old. “So I’m part of your lord’s campaign to woo his lady?”
Broc grinned back. “That’s my guess. But Signy is talented and would love to have a chance to work with you, and since you’re an islander yourself, I think you’ll find it an enjoyable holiday. We haven’t the mountains of Skye, but there’s a great deal of wild country and sometimes very dramatic weather.”
“Islands are special, aren’t they?” she said, her expression distant. “Each is unique, but all have a sense of being away from the mundane world.”
“I’ve not thought about such things,” he said. “Growing up on an island, I think of it much as a fish thinks about water. It was my world as a boy, and now it is again.”
“And in between was Portugal and Spain?”
“Among other places.” Since he’d been introduced as a major, it wasn’t surprising that she guessed he’d been a soldier. But he had the impression her artist’s eyes saw too much.
“You’ve an interesting face, Major,” she said thoughtfully. “I’d like to paint you.”
He laughed. “I suggest you stick to landscape and weather.” But as he collected Signy’s work and returned it to the portfolio, he knew the voyage home would be more interesting than the trip south to London had been.
Chapter 27
Signy was pouring wine to accompany their dinner when Ramsay entered the laird’s suite. The visit to Fiona Brae after the week’s journey had made it a long day. If Signy hadn’t dragged him away, he’d probably have spent the night excavating the Viking ship. But it had been there for centuries. It could wait a day longer.
After a blissful hot bath, he’d change into his loose, ankle-length black banyan. Signy also wore a long belted robe, blue in her case. For two unmarried people, such clothing would be an outrageous degree of informality anywhere in the South, but this was Thorsay and neither of them were children.
Signy handed him one of the glasses of wine. “I thought that your return and the day’s discovery deserved some of the best wine from your grandfather’s cellar.”
He raised the glass in a toast. “To the old laird, whose wide knowledge extended to fine wines!”
Signy tasted the wine and relaxed into a smile. As she sat at the table by the window where the setting sun poured in golden light, she asked, “Did you get a chance to meet Ian Maclean in Stromburgh?”
“Yes, you were right to suggest him as a possible magistrate. I appointed him to the position immediately.” After a satisfying swallow of wine, he opened his notebook and scanned the list of his visits.
