CHAPTER 7
His house was complete. He could move out of the inn and into his own home as early as today if he wanted to.
Max stared down at the hastily scrawled note from the lead builder, updating the charges. Thanks to Andrew Prince’s generosity, Max would have no issues paying for his own home, and he could spend his first night there tonight.
But did he want to move out of the inn just yet?
Staying at the inn was his best opportunity for seeing Ember.
Ember the serving lass? Or Ember the lady?
Last night, when he’d realized who she really was, Max had felt as if his brain had shut down. He’d comeso closeto making love to her, right there in Oliphant Engraving, and it had been because he’d really felt as if he’d known her. Despite their few interactions, there was something about Ember which had just clicked with him—a sort of spark of recognitions, as if two souls had been meant to be together.
Max frowned and reached for his checkbook. He was beginning to sound addled. Perhaps that’s what love did to a man.
Halfway through filling out a check for the builder, Max’s hand stilled. Love? Was that what this was?
He hummed and shook himself, hurrying to complete the rest of the check, then sign the bill and shove them both into an envelope to be delivered that afternoon. Hecouldmove into his house if he wanted to, but suddenly, he was more motivated to find out the truth about Ember.
Was she a lady…or a simple hard worker like himself?
“So is this what ye do all day without me?”
At the interruption, Max looked up and smiled at seeing Lysander saunter into his office. “You’re looking dapper. Did you get everything done at your estate?”
“Aye, of course.” Lysander dropped into one of the two chairs across from Max’s desk. “But ye’ve clearly been wasting away. What is this?Work?” He sniffed dismissively as he picked up an invoice, then dropped it into a different pile.
Max chuckled as he moved the paper back to its correct place. “You can play at the spoiled lordling all you want, Lysander, but I’ve seen your estate and how hard you work to maintain it. It’s like the ranch I had back in Wyoming.”
“Do ye miss it?”
Taking a moment to consider the question, Max tapped his finger against the paper beneath his hand. “A bit. I miss the people, my friends. But I can write to them, which is nice. I thought I’d miss working with horses, but when I settled intothis position, I realized I only liked working with horses because that was all I knew—all I thought I was good at.”
“And ye like this managing stuff better?”
Max grinned up at his brother. “Much better, yeah. I like the puzzles, and figuring stuff out.” He slid a stack of invoices into a folder and turned to drop them into a drawer of the cabinet behind him. Over his shoulder, he asked, “So what brings you to Oliphant Engraving today? Just wanting to make sure I was working hard?”
“That, and I just adore the sounds of heavy machinery. Whatisthat constant pounding noise? Do ye ken half yer engravers are wearing hearing protection?”
“Yep.” Chuckling, Max turned back to Lysander. “I’m considering hiring a fiddler for them to listen to. I think it’d be good for morale.”
“No’ with that pounding?—”
“That’s the press. It’s only used once a week or so to turn the sheet metal into plaques for the rifle stocks. Depending on the need, we either start with sheet metal and pound it, or raw ingots, which are melted and poured into molds. Tomorrow will be quieter, but will smell worse, because the metal will have to be filed and sanded.”
Lysander cocked a brow. “Remind me no’ to visit tomorrow.”
“I’m still not sure why you visitedtoday.”
His brother’s grin flashed brightly. “Because ye promised to come with me to the inn. Baroness Oliphant has invited me to tea with her daughters. I figure I can have more privacy with Tiffany there than during the house party amusements.”
“Hm. I don’t rememberpromisingyou.”
“Max.”
“You’re certain you want to get to know Tiffany better?” From what little Max had seen of her, she seemed spoiled and vain to him.
“If she’s my angel in pink, thenaye,” Lysander sighed.
