Chapter 7
His house was complete. He could move out of the inn and into his own home as early as today if he wanted to.
Max stared down at the hastily scrawled note from the lead builder, updating the charges. Thanks to Andrew Prince’s generosity, Max would have no issues paying for his own home, and he could spend his first night there tonight.
But did he want to move out of the inn just yet?
Staying at the inn was his best opportunity for seeing Ember.
Ember the serving lass? Or Ember the lady?
Last night, when he’d realized who she really was, Max had felt as if his brain had shut down.
He’d come so close to making love to her, right there in Oliphant Engraving, and it had been because he’d really felt as if he’d known her.
Despite their few interactions, there was something about Ember which had just clicked with him—a sort of spark of recognitions, as if two souls had been meant to be together.
Max frowned and reached for his checkbook. He was beginning to sound addled. Perhaps that’s what love did to a man.
Halfway through filling out a check for the builder, Max’s hand stilled. Love? Was that what this was?
He hummed and shook himself, hurrying to complete the rest of the check, then sign the bill and shove them both into an envelope to be delivered that afternoon. He could move into his house if he wanted to, but suddenly, he was more motivated to find out the truth about Ember.
Was she a lady…or a simple hard worker like himself?
“So is this what ye do all day without me?”
At the interruption, Max looked up and smiled at seeing Lysander saunter into his office. “You’re looking dapper. Did you get everything done at your estate?”
“Aye, of course.” Lysander dropped into one of the two chairs across from Max’s desk. “But ye’ve clearly been wasting away. What is this? Work?” He sniffed dismissively as he picked up an invoice, then dropped it into a different pile.
Max chuckled as he moved the paper back to its correct place. “You can play at the spoiled lordling all you want, Lysander, but I’ve seen your estate and how hard you work to maintain it. It’s like the ranch I had back in Wyoming.”
“Do ye miss it?”
Taking a moment to consider the question, Max tapped his finger against the paper beneath his hand.
“A bit. I miss the people, my friends. But I can write to them, which is nice. I thought I’d miss working with horses, but when I settled into this position, I realized I only liked working with horses because that was all I knew—all I thought I was good at. ”
“And ye like this managing stuff better?”
Max grinned up at his brother. “Much better, yeah. I like the puzzles, and figuring stuff out.” He slid a stack of invoices into a folder and turned to drop them into a drawer of the cabinet behind him.
Over his shoulder, he asked, “So what brings you to Oliphant Engraving today? Just wanting to make sure I was working hard?”
“That, and I just adore the sounds of heavy machinery. What is that constant pounding noise? Do ye ken half yer engravers are wearing hearing protection?”
“Yep.” Chuckling, Max turned back to Lysander. “I’m considering hiring a fiddler for them to listen to. I think it’d be good for morale.”
“No’ with that pounding—”
“That’s the press. It’s only used once a week or so to turn the sheet metal into plaques for the rifle stocks.
Depending on the need, we either start with sheet metal and pound it, or raw ingots, which are melted and poured into molds.
Tomorrow will be quieter, but will smell worse, because the metal will have to be filed and sanded. ”
Lysander cocked a brow. “Remind me no’ to visit tomorrow.”
“I’m still not sure why you visited today.”
His brother’s grin flashed brightly. “Because ye promised to come with me to the inn. Baroness Oliphant has invited me to tea with her daughters. I figure I can have more privacy with Tiffany there than during the house party amusements.”
“Hm. I don’t remember promising you.”
“Max.”
“You’re certain you want to get to know Tiffany better?” From what little Max had seen of her, she seemed spoiled and vain to him.
“If she’s my angel in pink, then aye,” Lysander sighed.
Max shrugged. He hadn’t intended to return to the inn for a few more hours, but he had accomplished most of his tasks already, and since he’d stayed late the previous night, he was mostly caught up on the organization.
Better not think about what came of staying late last night.
Her lips, her breast in his palm, her heat…
He felt himself growing hard beneath the desk.
What part of ‘best not think about it’ did you not understand, cowboy?
When Lysander slammed his palm against the desk, Max startled. “What?”
“Ye looked dreamy there for a moment. So are ye coming with me or no’?”
Max shrugged sheepishly, willing his arousal under control so he wouldn’t embarrass himself when he stood. “Alright, I’ll join you.”
Going back to the inn early would allow him plenty of time to pack his things to transfer to his new home.
They stepped out of his office, and Max turned to lock the door. He hadn’t seen any reason to distrust any of the employees, but now he knew Lawrence had a habit of giving permission to random Oliphants to use the equipment, it was better to be safe than sorry.
Not that Max would begrudge Ember using the lathe—it was clear she knew how to turn metal, if she truly were the creator of the remarkable shoes she’d worn to the ball. Shoes she wanted to try to talk him into producing, here in this very building.
The idea was intriguing.
Remembering his early question, Max tried for nonchalance when he asked his friend, “I’ve been looking for someone.”
“Someone in particular? A lady someone?”
“Well…yeah.” Max’s lips twitched as they stepped out into the afternoon sun. “And I found her. I’m just not sure who she is.”
Who was Ember, really? And which version was he falling in love with?
His brother hummed as they both shoved their hands into their pockets and headed for his curricle. “Let me ken if I can help, aye?”
Could he? “I think this is something I have to figure out myself.” He glanced at Lysander, and surprised himself by voicing his feelings.
“But thank you for offering. Really,” he assured his brother when Lysander lifted a brow.
“I—I grew up with a brother who treated me like dirt, and it’s been really nice, knowing I can rely on you and your siblings to actually care. ”
Lysander’s smile was easy and—yes—charming as he reached for the side of the curricle. “Phin and Athena and Lyon are yer siblings too, dinnae forget. Of course we care. They’re just no’ as good as showing it as I am.”
Max was lucky, indeed. “Thank you.”
“Ye’re welcome. Now, get in. We’re late for my destiny.”
The ride to the inn—though close enough to walk, but Max didn’t mind giving his legs a rest—was spent in companionable silence. When they arrived, they were met by a stable hand who took the horse’s bridle and assured them he’d take care of the animal and equipage.
“Being a viscount gets you all sorts of special treatment, eh?” Max murmured.
Lysander shot him a grin as they stepped inside. “It has its benefits. But mainly, it’s being the son of the laird, which ye are too.”
Did that make Max worthy of special treatment? At least no one had accused him of being a lord—
“My lords!” They both turned to see Baroness Oliphant—her graying hair pulled up in an ornate style likely intended to make her seem younger—hurrying toward them with her arms open. “So good of you to grace our humble abode!”
Dammit, he was not a lord!
Concerned she intended to embrace them, Max actually took a hasty step in retreat. But instead, when she reached them, the woman sunk into a deep curtsey. Max saw Lysander glance at the deep decolletage on display, then quickly look away, flushing in embarrassment.
Likely embarrassment for the woman.
Lysander cleared his throat. “Aye, well, thank ye for inviting me.”
“How could I not, milord?” Baroness Oliphant asked breathlessly as she stood. “When I received your note expressing interest in furthering your acquaintance with my beautiful, perfect daughter, we were all thrilled. Such an honor!”
“Aye, well…” Lysander peered over her shoulder. “Is yer daughter joining us?”
“For tea, of course! If you will follow Oliphant here—Oliphant, lead my lords to the private parlor—my daughters and I will join you shortly.”
Lysander’s brow twitched, but Max didn’t see anything wrong with the request. Likely had something to do with propriety or some such nonsense, but he just nodded to the butler—whom he assumed was the Oliphant she spoke of—and followed the older man.
After depositing them in an out-of-the-way parlor Max had never been in before, the butler bowed and backed out of the doorway, leaving it open.
Max dropped into one of the large chairs, his legs stretched out in front of him. “You do get the fancy treatment, huh?”
Lysander was pacing, and it was almost amusing to see him so agitated.
“Dinnae think I didnae notice how often ye get called ‘milord’ when ye’re with me.”
Max snorted. He wasn’t a lord. He’d spent his life being treated like a servant by the man he’d thought was his father—a very different history than these people assumed.
“Look, Lysander, I can’t even keep your fancy titles straight, much less anyone else’s. I’m happy being just me.”
“Aye, but being the guest of honor at that ball didnae hurt either.” Lysander stopped pacing and planted his hands on his hips. “Ye’re a prize now as well. Maybe ye’ll enjoy meeting Tiffany’s sister.”
“Don’t forget, I’ve met them both already. When Baroness Oliphant found out ‘the laird’s new son’ was staying at her inn, she was overjoyed. I had dinner with them a few weeks back.”
“And?” Lysander asked eagerly.
Not interested in popping his friend’s bubble of excitement when it came to Tiffany, Max just shrugged.