“Hallo, Logan.” The first man out the door offered Logan a brief nod, but he wasn’t looking at Logan. He was looking ather, and he didn’t seem at all impressed. He stared at her for a moment, as if he couldn’t quite decide what sort of creature she might be, then jerked his chin in her direction. “Who’ve ye got here?”
Logan leapt down from his horse’s back and strode across the yard to shake hands with the red-headed giant. “Robertson.” He nodded to the other men, then turned and waved a hand toward Juliana. “This is Lady Juliana Bernard. She’s a friend of Fitzwilliam’s, and has come to Castle Kinross for a visit.”
It took every bit of Juliana’s composure not to blanch when the three pairs of hard blue eyes turned on her. None of the three of them said a word, but they stared at her for so long her knees trembled underneath her skirts. Dear God, each of them was more enormous than the next, and they looked as if they’d welcome the chance to squeeze the life of out of her.
“Lady?” One of them asked, just when Juliana was ready to sink under the weight of those cold blue gazes.
“Yes.” Juliana gathered her courage and took a step forward. “How do you do?”
Three sets of red eyebrows shot up. One of the men turned and spat on the ground, then dragged a massive hand across his mouth. “She’sEnglish?”
This wasn’t asked in the spirit of friendly curiosity. He fairly seethed with menace, and Juliana, whose courage had failed her, was unable to say a word in response.
Logan cast her an impatient look, but he did take pity on her. “Aye, she’s English, and under my protection.” He didn’t say anything more, but the other men seemed to understand him readily enough.
The Englishwoman—as undesirable as her presence might be—was to be treated if not with courtesy, then at least with forbearance.
“But what’s she doing ’ere?” The smallest of the three giants shoved his way past his brothers, and gave Logan a baffled look. “What’re we meant to do with ’er?”
“That’s a foolish question, Callum,” Logan said, that smug smile once again playing about his lips.
The other men didn’t seem to find it foolish in the least. They blinked at Logan, then exchanged glances with each other.
Logan raised an eyebrow. “She’s come to help us search for the sheep, of course. Or the poacher. Whichever comes first.”
“She?” Callum swept a doubtful look from the top of Juliana’s head to the toes of her riding boots. “But she’s no bigger than a sheep ’erself!”
“I beg your pardon!” Juliana folded her arms across her chest, piqued. “I’m much bigger than a sheep, I assure you!”
“An English sheep, maybe,” Callum muttered.
Juliana huffed out a breath, but before she could offer a word in her defense she was interrupted by a hearty laugh from Logan. She jerked her gaze toward him, and her eyes widened.
Yes, a very nice mouth, indeed.
He’d put it to good use at last, too, with that smile. Mocking as it was, it wasn’t the sort of smile a lady could dismiss with a shrug. But then it wasn’t aimed ather, was it?
Logan slapped Callum on the back. “You never know, Callum. She may surprise you, and prove a useful member of the search party.”
It was plain by his arrogant grin Logan thought it unlikely she’d prove anything but a nuisance, and if she could judge by their discontented mumbling, his tenants thought the same. Juliana regarded them all with narrowed eyes, her determination rising right along with her temper. Logan Blair might go to the devil, and take that infuriating smirk with him! She was going to make him swallow those words. She’d find a damn sheep today if it took until midnight, or she died trying.
She marched over to her horse, swung herself up into the saddle, and turned a cool look on the four men still standing in the yard. “Well? Do you intend to stand about all day, discussing the size of English sheep, or will you actually come and find them?”
Callum Robertson’s red brows drew together. “Bhig galla,”he muttered.
Logan threw back his head in a laugh. Whatever Callum had just said, he seemed to find it very funny, indeed.
Juliana’s lips pinched together. “What does that mean?”
No one answered her, but Logan let out another chuckle that made Juliana want to tear his hair out. The Robertson brothers—for indeed, brothers they must be, for no three men could look more alike—mounted their own horses, and in the next moment they were all off, clouds of dust rising from ten pairs of hooves as they thundered from the farmyard.
Once Robertson had pointed out the general area where the sheep had gone missing, Logan pulled out a tattered map and marked off a large section of land with that spot in the center. They split up into two groups, with Juliana, Logan, and Callum going in one direction, and the two other Robertson brothers in the other. They spent the rest of the afternoon riding in an ever-narrowing circle around the place where the sheep had disappeared. They met up at the close of each circle to confer, then set off again, moving a little closer to the center each time.
By the time they’d gone around twice, Juliana had begun to understand the enormity of her foolishness in insisting on accompanying Logan on the search. It was back-breaking, exhausting work—far more strenuous than anything she was used to. Her legs were screaming with pain, and her bottom, which had been courteous enough to remain numb for the earlier part of the ride, suddenly awoke, and made its fury known. She’d gone cross-eyed from peering under bushes and scrub brush for a glimpse of white wool, and her back was soaked with sweat.
Still, not a single whisper of complaint crossed her lips.
As the afternoon wore on she caught Logan watching her with a measuring look in his eyes, but she only raised her chin and rode on. She’d fall off her horse in a dead faint before she’d gratify him with even a murmur of protest.
