Duncan watched the self-assured bounce of the brown waves as she floated down the stairs. Being tall, Scottish, and reasonably good-looking, he was used to reducing women in America to tongue-tied teenagers. Abby, on the other hand, seemed entirely immune to his charms. He might as well be…well, a swineherd.
When he finally lifted his gaze, he saw they had not been alone. Rosston stood in the arch of a doorway, partially obscured by a statue. Duncan nodded coolly, a silent acknowledgment that Rosston’s observation had not gone unnoticed, and Rosston turned and disappeared.
So that’s how it’s to be?
A servant dropped off a pitcher, ewer, and a roll of cotton wool as promised, and in a few moments Duncan had washed and bandaged himself. He imagined what it might have been like for Abby to do the tending instead.
He had to assume she was the de facto chief of Clan Kerr, but what sort of woman runs a clan? The last time there were working clan chiefs of any gender in Scotland, not to mention clashes between English soldiers and Scots clansmen, George II was king. The thought made Duncan dizzy.
How had Abby succeeded to the title? Had she no brothers? Duncan thought of the room full of aggressive, determined traders he managed, hardly more civilized than a regiment of bloody-minded clansmen. How did a lass of twenty-three or twenty-four command them? And how had the clan’s coffers been mismanaged?
He looked around the room. A brocade-covered bed stood between carved tables. A tapestry of some ancient battle hung on the wall. A candle stood in a holder shaped to look like a lion rampant. He’d been in a dozen centuries-old castles like this on school trips or dragged by his mum on holidays to see “our history,” but never had he stood in the middle of one, knowing that the furniture and decorations at which he looked were not part of Scotland’s past but its present. A shiver went through him.
He didn’t have to be a denizen of this century to know his torn and bloodstained sark was a no-go for dinner. He opened the wardrobe and looked at the array of linen and coats. Whoever owned them was tall and broad shouldered. He hoped it wasn’t Rosston. He didn’t want to spend a moment in that man’s debt.
He found a sark embroidered with a tiny vine around the neck and down the front. Had Abby’s hand done the work? He traced a finger along the twining leaves.
He heard a sound and turned. Grendel had appeared and was turning in circles to make a place for himself on the empty hearth.
“Oh, I see. You’re here to keep an eye on me, are you? As if I had anywhere to run. Perhaps you can tell me a bit about your mistress.”
Grendel laid his head on his paws and looked at Duncan ruefully.
“Sworn to secrecy. I understand.” Duncan bent to scratch the dog’s ears. “There are no pets allowed in my building at home, I’m afraid. I have to get all my dog needs filled at the park.”
Grendel rolled on his back and offered his belly.
A boy flew by the open door, firewood in his arms, and Grendel barked. Duncan recognized him as the boy who’d been attacked at the battle.
Duncan jogged to the door. “Hey.” The boy spun around. He was twelve or thirteen, with a shock of brown hair that hung over his forehead. “Where are you going?”
“Firewood for Sir Alan’s room.”
“Come back here when you finish, will you?”
The boy shrugged, flipping the hair from his eyes.
By the time Duncan had tucked in his tails, the boy was back, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “What is it?”
“Do you remember me?”
The boy nodded, hesitant.
“My name’s Duncan. Is your arm all right?”
“It is, sir. Thank you.” The boy stooped by Grendel and patted the dog’s head. His hands were filthy and the shirt he wore looked as if it was a size too small.
“Grendel is Abby’s dog, is he?”
“Abby?”
“Er, Abby Kerr?”
“Oh, Lady Kerr. Aye, he is. He’s verra good with sticks. I can throw them as far down the river as you can imagine, and he just jumps in and brings them back.”
“Lady Kerr is, er, the chief of Clan Kerr? I’m not from around here.”
“She is. My ma says Lady Kerr is too big for her saddle. I don’t know as I agree, though. I’ve seen her in her saddle. She looks quite handsome.”
Duncan coughed to hide a laugh. “What about you? Do you like her? Do you think she does a good job? Lady Kerr, I mean, not your mum. I’m sure your mum does a very fine job.”
The boy shrugged. “I guess. She negotiated with an officer in the English army, and there haven’t been any battles since last year at Hogmany—well, until today.”
“Does Rosston help her? Rosston is the man with arms like small hams.”
“I know Rosston. He was a hero at the Battle of Dunkeld. Everyone knows him.”
“So, does he help her with the planning of attacks or anything else with the clan?”
“Lady Kerr does not plan attacks,” the boy said. “I don’t think she likes them at all. She certainly doesn’t plan them with anybody.”
“Perhaps they share a different relationship?”
The boy made a thoughtful frown. “They are related. Rosston’s her cousin, though their families don’t speak.”
Feuding cousins. Very interesting. “She appears to be a little cool toward him.”
“I dunno about that. He’s the one who gave her Grendel.”
Hearing his name, Grendel thumped his tail.
“Hm.” The giving of a dog was not generally the act of a mere acquaintance, though perhaps in this case it was a gift to mend the rift between the two sides of the family.
The boy had pulled a sausage from his pocket and the dog was running in circles, trying to earn a treat. The boy threw a piece, and the dog caught it in midair.
“What do you know about the canal?” Duncan asked.
“It’s a big empty hole. The men started digging it three years ago. But they stopped.”
“Why? Do you know?”
“My cousin Jack worked on it, and he says they ran out of money. But my ma says Lady Kerr pissed it away with trips to London and Paris to see her lovers.”
Duncan’s brows went up. “That’s quite an accusation.” Carnal appetites, fiscal irresponsibility, and consorting with, or at least spending time in the lands of, one’s enemy—no wonder Abby was finding things hard going. “What do you think?”
Again, the boy shrugged. “I like her. She’s always kind to me. And she’s very good to Grendel.”
Duncan smiled. Could a truer gauge of worthiness be found? “I take it you spend a lot of time here?”
“I help the cook when she asks,” the boy said, “and I sometimes sleep in the barn. But I don’t live here.”
“What’s your name?” Duncan said.
“Nab.”
“Nab, I am in need of an assistant.”
“A what?”
“A man to run my errands, do my bidding, carry my notes—”
“Answer your questions about Lady Kerr?”
Duncan searched the boy’s face for the hint of a tease and had no trouble finding it. Duncan’s ears warmed. “Er, aye.”
“Am I to be a spy, then?”
Duncan blinked. “Let’s see where assistant takes us first, shall we? How much does the cook pay you?”
“A shilling a week and breakfast.”
Pursing his lips, Duncan considered what he should offer. He had a twenty in his sporran—useless here—and his wallet was in his hotel room in Pittsburgh. He had no idea where he’d get the money to pay the boy, but then again, Duncan had never had a problem making money, no matter where he was. “Let’s make it two then.”
“Three,” the boy said stoutly. “Rosston offered me two to keep my eye on you.”
Interesting. Duncan’s investment in the boy was already paying off. “If I offer to pay you four, will you turn him down?”
Through the cascade of hair, Nab gave Duncan a careful look. “Do you want me to turn him down?”
Duncan wished every man in his employ possessed the same cold-blooded cunning. “Now that you mention it, no.”
A pleased smile rose on Nab’s face. “When do we start?”
“Well, the first thing I need is some valeting. I don’t know your customs as well as I ought. It’s very important to Lady Kerr that I look acceptable at dinner tonight. Can you take a look and tell me if anything looks odd?”
Nab grinned. “Your hair is a very bright shade of red.”
“Och, a comedian. Those three shillings are starting to look like two again to me.”
The boy laughed. “You’ll need a different plaid. Those are too close to the Campbell colors. You can’t wear that here.”
“There we go. That’s the sort of advice I need.” Duncan waved at the wardrobe. “Choose carefully. I should very much like to outshine our friend Rosston tonight.”
Nab’s eyes came alive. “In that case, there’s a really big sword and sheath in the Hunting Room. It’s got a dragon on it, and jewels too. But it’s too high for me to reach.”
“A dragon? Well, we dinna want to miss that.” Duncan stuck out his hand. “Nab, I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.”