I cast a furtive glance toward his mum and shake my head at him. Does he have no sense of decorum?
I text him. You would say that!
He smiles at me.
Islan wonders aloud. “The question is, if there was someone who knew our clan, why would they put us in a book? And who on earth would it be?"
At that moment, there's a large crashing sound in the pantry. Leith is on his feet before anyone else moves, and Flora stands stock-still. “Stay where you are, girls.”
But a moment later a sheepish girl, someone I recognize on their staff, comes out from the pantry, a broken bowl in hand.
“So sorry, ma’am, sir,” she says. “I came in a bit ago to get the place settings for the dinner table, but didn’t want to bother anyone.”
“Did you eavesdrop?” Leith asks, giving her that stern look I know so well. I cringe for the lass.
Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head from side to side. “No, sir! Never! I mean, I heard the conversation, but I wasn't eavesdropping. Did my best not to listen to a single word, I promise, especially about the book!”
Leith scowls at her. “Go, then. Out of here and do your work. And the next time you’re in a position where you may be eavesdropping, make yourself known immediately. Do you understand me?”
She nods and fairly flees the kitchen. Islan and Flora share a look, but I don't know what it means. Do they suspect her? It would make the most sense, that a member of their staff was the one that was spying. But why would a bestselling romance author be working as paid staff here?
“Hello in there! Anyone home?” I recognize Nan’s reedy voice before she comes in.
“Och, aye, come in, Nan,” Islan says. She gives her a kiss on her papery-thin cheek when she enters. “Are you okay?”
“Doin’ fine, lass, and how’s our silent visitor, hmm?” She winks at me. I wink back and give her a thumbs up, which makes even Leith chuckle.
I shift in my seat at the sound of his laugh, such a foreign sound, but one I’d give anything to hear. Over and over again.
“Now, look at this bonnie lass,” Nan says. She pats my shoulder with her little hand, and her voice hardens when she talks to Leith. “If you don’t keep this one, yer heid’s full o’mince, it is.”
I haven’t heard that expression in ages, and I love it. I’ll remember to ask him if he’s got a noggin’ full of mince later, when we’re alone.
Leith gives her a placating smile and changes the subject.
Why?
Is he uncomfortable talking about such things? I knew that a man like him couldn’t be happy with me because I don’t speak. A man of his rank ought to have a woman who can lead, like Flora.
We eat dinner with his family, and even Paisley joins us, but after dessert I'm ready to go back to his place. I need some quiet. I'm so unaccustomed to this level of socialization, it makes me uneasy, even though I don't speak. Somehow, it seems like he already understands this.
“Cairstina and I will be heading home for the night,” he says, taking his napkin off his lap and putting it on the table, as if he's ready to go. But before he stands, his father clears his throat.
“How much longer do you plan on keeping her?”
Keeping her. As if I’m a dog kept by the hearth?
Leith blinks but doesn’t respond at first. “That's a conversation I’d rather have privately.”
His father smiles, but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. I can't quite place the look he's giving Leith, but it looks cool, calculating even. I don't want to hear what he has to say. I don't like him.
“Why is that? I would imagine if she's good enough for you to take home with you, that you trust her enough to have this conversation in front of her."
“You bloody well know why I'd rather have this conversation privately."
I don’t.
“And you should,” Nan says, glaring at Bram, who stoutly ignores her. The others look down at the table, as if they don't want to be obtrusive in this conversation.
This time, Leith pushes up from the table. He reaches for my hand, and we leave the house in silence. The door slams behind us.
When we get back, the sun has set and nighttime approaches. A brisk wind picks up, and it's so cold I’m shivering. But he doesn't even seem to notice. He opens the door and drags me in, then slams it behind him.
He makes a fist and slams the wall above me, making me jump, and the overhead lighting bounces off then on again.
“He doesn’t fucking know,” he growls, and I wonder what it is his father doesn't know. "We had a simple task today. We were supposed to go into town, fuck up your brother, find out what we could about the Aitkens.”