Page 40 of Kidnapping Cordelia

“Aye, and she’s my betrothed, so I’ll thank ye to keep yer hands and yer sweet talking to yerself,” Muir growled, hearing the heat of his own anger in the terse words.

“That’s nae what I heard,” Hamilton replied, regarding Muir with a wicked gleam in his eyes that Muir did not like one bit. “I heard she gave ye the go by. Smart lassie,” he added, winking at his brother.

Muir opened his mouth to tell Hamilton precisely what he thought of that comment, but the door opened, and Mrs Baillie bustled in, hefting a heavy tea tray.

“Sheenagh, for heaven’s sake, you're supposed to get the footmen to bring such things,” Luella protested, but Hamilton rushed to take the tray from the woman. He set it down and then wrapped his arms about Mrs Baillie and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek.

“She didnae want to give it to the footman for then she’d nae see me for another hour or more and she couldnae wait,” he said, grinning at Mrs Baillie, who pushed at his chest, looking torn between scolding him and melting at his feet.

“Oh, ye great lummox, yer squashing me all to bits. Yer a deal too bold, my laddie,” she said, trying to sound cross and failing miserably.

“Aye, Mrs Baillie, but ye love me all the same, aye?”

“Aye, ye wretch, I do at that,” she admitted, and reached up, patting his cheek. “’Tis good to see ye. It’s been too long. Now I’ve made Abernethy biscuits and I’ve all yer favourites ready for dinner, so ye make sure ye eat everything. I know ye dinnae eat right when ye are working all the time in that heathenish town.”

“’Tis only Wick,” Hamilton protested with a laugh. “’Tis nae Sodom and Gomorrah.”

“All the same,” Mrs Baillie said with a sniff. “Now pour the tea before it gets cold,” she commanded, and bustled out again.

“I always was her favourite,” Hamilton told Delia with a wink.

“Ye were nae,” Muir objected, scowling. “Ye are just the one she disnae see so often, that’s all.”

“If ye say so,” Hamilton replied, shrugging and taking a biscuit from the tray, popping it in his mouth in one go. “Abernethy biscuits,” he said around the mouthful, smirking at his brother.

Muir rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Delia. “I wondered if ye would like to visit the farm this afternoon. The first lambs have arrived and they’re sweet little creatures.”

“Oh,” Delia said, her eyes shining, yet she hesitated.

Muir held his breath, knowing she was reluctant to spend time with him again, and yet she wanted to see the lambs. She turned to look at Luella, who nodded.

“I can drive you over there in the dog cart when the children take their nap, if you’d like?”

“I would, thank you, Luella,” she said, happy now she had a chaperone.

Less pleased at Luella’s involvement, Muir only nodded.

“Well, I’ll look forward to it, lassie,” he said, holding her gaze and giving her a warm smile.

Colour rose to her cheeks, and he knew she was remembering those intimate moments they’d shared last night—as was he. Truth be told, he’d not been able to think of anything but the kiss they’d shared, the feel of her shapely legs beneath his hands, and he’d come over to see her the first second he’d been able to. As was their wont, the first lambs had arrived in the early hours of the morning, and though Dugald and his men were more than capable of managing without him, Muir did not like to leave it all to them. The next weeks would need every man to do his part and if any of them got more than a couple hours sleep at night, he’d be amazed.

“I’ll see ye later, Delia, Luella. Hamilton,” he added, glaring at his brother.

“Hold up,” Hamilton said, surprising him. “I’ll see ye out. Pour the tea, Lulu. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Muir walked out of the room as Hamilton followed, closing the door.

“Aye?” Muir asked, folding his arms.

“Are ye all right, a chuilein?” he asked, such sincere concern in his eyes that Muir sighed, unable to remain annoyed with him. No one ever could, which was half of Hamilton’s trouble. “Malmsey was a nasty piece of work, and nae mistake, but it could nae have been pleasant for ye.”

Muir shrugged, touched by the concern but not really wishing to discuss it. “Aye, ’twas nae a fun afternoon, I’ll grant ye that,” he said, with more sangfroid than he felt. The memory of that day had come back to him forcefully the previous night, when his hands had been covered with blood after bringing a new lamb into the world. That was what he’d always loved, helping new life emerge, not taking it away, and the moment had been spoiled by a vile blackguard who’d had no business in Muir’s life. He knew it was a foolish to make the comparison, but Malmsey’s blood had stained his hands and he felt it had stained his life too in some intangible way. His whole life he’d been known as a charming devil, a fun-loving young man with a ready laugh and an easy manner. What did people think of him now? The knowledge that parlours from Wildsyde to London were likely buzzing with gossip about him made him angry at Malmsey all over again.

“They’re calling ye a hero,” Hamilton said, his lips quirking. “I thought ye might like to ken that much.”

Muir snorted, not feeling much better for hearing it. “Aye, for now. And then they’ll remember that business with Richmond and people will step aside to get out of my way.”

“Disnae sound so bad,” Hamilton said with a grin. “I may play up to being little brother to murderous Muir Anderson, aye?”