He waited for her to take a seat and then took his own chair across from her and handed her the teacup, which was in the same condition as the pot. The handle of the cup had been broken off at one point and had been cemented back on. Small chips on one side of the cup gave the rim an uneven appearance and she avoided cutting her lips on the ragged edges by sipping from the other side.
After a few moments, he asked, “Is everything to your liking, Clarissa?”
She cringed at him calling her by her first name.
“I may call you Clarissa, can I not?”
“I would prefer if ye didna.”
With a roll of his eyes, he sighed. “Fine. Miss Gordon,” he drawled out her name sarcastically. “I do not understand how you Scots find such enjoyment in tea. I find myself much moreinclined to coffee. Tea tastes so bland. I prefer the heartier taste of a coffee bean than a tea leaf.”
She held her tongue, unsure if the question was rhetorical. She could not stand the taste of coffee. But she wasn’t surprised that was his preference. She had heard that Americans preferred it over tea.
Jacob stared at her, waiting.
“Och, apologies. I thought ye were making a comment. It didna require an answer.”
He just grunted and continued watching her drink with his beady brown eyes. His action made the hairs on Clarissa’s arms go up. And for the umpteenth time since she’d left Millwool this morning she cursed her stupidity under her breath.
She wanted to escape these walls. They felt like they were closing in on her. Taking another sip of tea, she set the cup and saucer on the table. “Shall we go see the Campbell sheep now?”
“You were serious about seeing them?” He sounded dumbfounded at the idea.
“Aye.” She looked out the dirty panes of the window. “Besides, ’tis such a lovely day it seems a shame to waste it being indoors. We willna have many more warm days until the air turns cold and we are forced to stay indoors.”
“You Scots are an odd bunch. I had heard you were supposed to be a hardy lot. I think I will be able to handle the cold weather better than you all.”
She doubted that, but once again held her tongue. She was only making excuses so she could get out of the house. Either way, she placated him with a forced giggle. “I believe ye may be right, Baron Kitt. I much prefer to spend the cold days near the warm glow of the fireplace.” She didn’t. She happened to enjoy the cold weather. The beauty of freshly fallen snow. The way it made the forest sparkle. But she would never admit that to him.
Nay. Baron Kitt would never know her likes and dislikes. She wanted him to know as little as possible about her. That was a vow she would keep.
“Very well,” he said gruffly. “If you insist on seeing the sheep, we will do so.” He stood and held out his hand to assist her up.
She was perfectly capable of standing up on her own, but knew Jacob’s ego was fragile, so she swallowed hard and accepted his hand.
“Your shawl is in the other room. Let me fetch that for you and we can leave through the back door.”
She nodded and watched him leave the room. Quickly, she glanced around, looking for anything that she could use as a weapon. She had a feeling that sooner or later, at some point before the night was through, she was going to need something to defend herself with against Jacob.
On the table, there was naught but a small teaspoon, the teacup and saucer, the platter of sandwiches, and the tea pot. There was the tray they were sitting upon, but it was too big for her to carry around and it would be too obvious what she was doing.
She needed to be discreet. She studied the room, but to her dismay, there was naught that would offer her any protection.
“Here you go.” Jacob entered the room and placed the shawl on her shoulders, his fingers lingering a little too long.
She shuddered, and he mistook her disgust for a chill. “Are you sure you want to go outside? You are already shivering, and we have the fire here to keep us warm.”
Her gaze swept to the waning flames of the fireplace. No one was keeping warm with that small blaze. And she certainly did not want him getting the idea that she wanted him to chase the chill away.
“I am certain. Please,” she almost begged.
Thankfully, the man was oblivious to anything that didn’t serve his purpose and he didn’t note the plea in her voice.
With his hand at the small of her back, he pushed her forward to the opposite side of the room and out a door into a narrow hallway. The hallways were much smaller than those at Huntly or at Millwool. Also, opposite of those halls, this one was in desperate need of a coat of paint—just like the other rooms she had seen so far.
They exited the door and stepped out onto the grass. The edges of the blades starting to brown due to the time of year. There were no gardens at the back of the estate. No landscaping at all, really. It was just open meadows. No wonder why he let the sheep roam freely. They could essentially eat right up to the doorstep if they were so inclined.
“Let us head this way.” He guided her left toward a well-worn footpath.
