Chapter 9 #2
For a long moment Iain sat in the silence and breathed deeply. He was fairly certain he couldn’t take another blow, and yet they kept coming. “Get me a list of everyone on that ship. I want every family compensated. I’ll also need a list of the cargo she was carrying.”
Patrick silently slid a piece of paper onto the desk. “The cargo,” he said. “I’m working on getting a list of the crew.”
Iain’s shipping ventures were based in England.
An enterprise that had started as a hobby when he was at Oxford had grown quite profitable over time.
He’d lost ships and he’d lost entire crews before; it was the nature of the business.
But it always hit him hard, and this time was the hardest yet.
That the crew would have been mostly English didn’t make it easier to bear.
They were still his people, employed by him, their families relying on his pay to keep them alive.
Iain leaned his head back, wishing everything away.
But that wasn’t possible and there were things that needed to be done.
Graham was expected for dinner tonight, and Iain had to play the part, put on the impassive face that he was known for, and convince one of the most beloved, respected, and powerful clan chiefs to cooperate with the English.
First he needed a drink.
—
Cait was pleased with the recovery of the people who’d been burned during the fire. Luckily, none of the injuries had been too terrible, and she was fairly certain that she didn’t need to check on them anymore. They knew where she lived and knew they could call on her if needed.
While she’d been at the big house, the housekeeper had asked her to look at one of the young serving girls who was complaining of stomach pains.
Though the girl was terrified, Cait thought she did a good job of putting her at ease.
She was suffering from nothing worse than sneaking too many tarts from the kitchen.
Cait told the housekeeper it was a minor stomach ailment that would be gone by the next day.
Both the serving girl and the housekeeper had been pleased.
Her worn heels clicked along on the highly shined foyer floor and echoed through the cavernous, cold space as she headed toward the tall front doors.
A sweeping double staircase flanked the marbled entryway.
She passed closed doors that she knew from past visits with John led to a formal sitting room, a music room, a vast library, and an informal dining room.
While it was a beautiful home, Cait preferred her small cottage, which was cozy and warm and felt lived in.
This was a large house for one person, and she wasn’t the first one to speculate about Iain Campbell’s plans to fill it with heirs.
He was wealthy, powerful, pleasing to the eye, and held both an English title from his mother’s side and a Scottish title from his father’s side.
For years it had been rumored that he would marry an English lass, thus allying himself with England.
So far there had been no English lass in Campbell’s life, which provoked the rumors even more.
“Cait.”
She spun around, jerked out of her thoughts, to find Campbell descending the stairs.
She was shocked at the weary lines around his eyes and the bowed shoulders.
His hair stood on end, as if he’d run his hands through it a dozen times.
His breeches were worn and his coat was absent, leaving only a comfortable-looking saffron shirt.
He must have been working in the fields or with the cattle.
He stopped before her and looked a bit lost, as if all of his words had deserted him. She’d never seen him this way, without his usual mask of indifference. Right now she saw it all, and it was heartbreaking and frightening.
“I was checking on the last of the injured,” she said, feeling a need to explain her presence.
“And how are they?”
“All healing nicely. I see no reason for me to return unless you would need me.”
He looked down at the toes of his boots. They were old, caked with mud, and she had a fleeting thought that his housekeeper would be furious if she saw him wearing them in the house.
“Is everything all right?” she finally asked into the thick silence.
“No.”
She waited, but no more information was forthcoming. “Is there anything I can do?”
He looked at her with bleak eyes that worried her. “Stay for dinner.”
She glanced at the massive front doors she’d come so close to walking out of.
She wanted nothing more than to go home to Black Cat, eat a small dinner, and read.
She didn’t want to get caught up in the activities of the big house and the intrigues that Iain was involved in.
Yet she wasn’t certain she could turn away from the pleading in those eyes.
She knew what it meant to not want to be left alone with your own thoughts. “I don’t think—”
“Please, Cait.”
She plucked at the old gown she was wearing. It had been mended too many times to count and was definitely not suitable for dinner at the big house. “I’m not dressed appropriately.”
“We don’t stand on ceremony here.”
“I really shouldn’t…” But she knew she would. Because she understood his reasons for the invitation even if she didn’t know the specifics of what had brought him to this point tonight. “Very well.” It’s only a meal.
To her surprise, he took her hand and led her to the formal sitting room. She’d been in here a few days before, when it had been a makeshift sickroom. The furniture had since been put to rights, the carpets unrolled, and the various and sundry decorations back to their rightful places.
Iain poured a tumbler of whiskey and held up the bottle to silently offer her a glass. She declined. Even when she’d been deep into her grief, she’d never turned to drink for solace.
She settled into a comfortable chair, richly upholstered in a deep forest green that matched the green of the draperies.
The thick carpet beneath her feet was a dark gold flecked with more deep green.
Iain sank into the matching chair and sipped his drink silently.
Cait looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap.
Why had he asked her to dinner if he wasn’t going to talk?
And what had happened that he was so morose?
“I’m no’ much company,” he finally said.
His Scottish brogue had crept into his speech, surprising Cait.
For as long as she’d known him, he’d spoken like a Lowlander.
She knew it was because he’d been educated in Edinburgh and then later in England.
It was no secret that all of the Campbell chiefs were to be educated in the English way, thus forming the bond between the Campbells and the English.
“Do ye want me to leave?” she asked.
“Nay. Please stay.”
Cait nodded and they settled into silence again.
“I lost a ship today,” he said after a bit. “The crew perished.”
Her gaze flew to his, and suddenly, his mood made sense. “Oh, Iain. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t care so much about the cargo, although it was quite a financial loss. But the crew and their families…” He took another drink and stared into the depths of the cut glass.
She was thinking of the families as well, of the women now without husbands, the babes without fathers.
Without a head of family, they would be forced to leave their homes.
If they were lucky, other family members would take them in.
If they weren’t lucky, they would end up on the streets. Life was so cruel sometimes.
“I will compensate them, of course,” he said. “But that doesn’t bring their loved ones back.”
“No, it doesn’t. But they won’t have to worry about where their next meal will come from.
That’s very honorable of ye.” She was beyond relieved to see that these people whom she didn’t even know wouldn’t be homeless.
Deep down, Iain was a good man. Was that what John had been trying to tell her all along?
He blew out a breath. “It’s the least I can do.” He glanced up at her, then away. “I offered you the same.”
“I…” What was she supposed to say to that? He had offered to let her live in her home after John had died, he’d even offered her money, but she had refused it all. “I know ye did and I’m grateful, but I’m fine without all of that. I didn’t need the money.”
He drained his glass.
“Was it deliberate?” she asked quietly, referring to the ship, afraid to voice the thought that he was losing cattle and his north field, devastated by the fire.
“Nothing would surprise me at the moment, but Patrick said it was a squall.”
The door to the sitting room opened and the housekeeper stepped in. She seemed surprised to see Cait but quickly recovered. “Alasdair Graham, my lord.” She flicked a gaze at Cait. “Should I set another place for dinner?”
“Yes, Gretchen. I forgot to tell you that Mrs. Campbell will be joining us as well.”
“Us?” Cait asked breathlessly. Alasdair Graham? Alasdair Graham was joining them for dinner?
Iain stood and became the Iain she knew so well. The weariness was smoothed from his face. His shoulders were back and he was smiling.
But Cait’s heart was thundering. She hadn’t faced her grandfather in over seven years, and she really didn’t want to do so now.