Page 8 of Falling for Her Highland Steward
“I had noticed,” Michael remarked dryly. “But milady keeps a wonderful wine cellar, although, by the looks of things, it will not last much longer since there will be no money to buy new stock. The estate is losing money very fast.”
“You look very sad,” Caillen observed keenly. “Is it so important to you?”
“I do not want the estate to go to rack and ruin.” Michael was furious and thumped his fist into his palm with exasperation. “Erin is an exceptionally intelligent woman, as well as being very beautiful, and I have no doubt that she will make a valuable contribution to the management of the place, but she has no experience. She needs someone to guide her.”
“I will try to see if I can help,” Caillen mused, “but I am making no promises. My experience is not exactly in estate management, but I have many of the skills to do it. I have always found that doing things well depends mostly on how well you get on with who you are working with. Is she easy to please? Cooperative?”
“No!” Michael laughed. “I will not deceive you, Cal. She has very high standards, she is extremely stubborn, and she does not suffer fools gladly.”
“Neither do I,” his friend retorted, frowning. “Therefore, we have something in common already.”
“So you will come with me?” Michael asked hopefully.
“Aye, let us see how it goes.” Caillen sipped his ale. “One more thing. I can manage without the wine, but do they have good fish there?”
Michael shook his head. “You and your stomach!” he laughed. “I believe there is trout and salmon, but no mackerel or herring. Think you will survive?”
“I will do my best,” Caillen replied, laughing.
They arrived at Gowanlea Castle two days later to find that Erin had already accomplished a fair amount on her own. The eastern defensive wall that had been crumbling was being mended, and the cracks in the tiles of the atrium, as well as the missing flagstones in the courtyard, had been fixed or replaced with new ones.
Michael pointed out to Caillen the work that had been done. “She never stops!” he laughed. He called one of the guards over to speak to him. “Where is Lady McCaskill?”
“Visitin’ some o’ the tenants, sir,” the man replied. “She told Master McDade tae show the visitor tae a bedroom ’til she comes back.”
“Has she been going on her own?” Michael’s voice was high with astonishment.
“She has taken four guards wi’ her,” the man answered, his voice full of pride. Lady McCaskill always took his advice.
Caillen could see at once that the common people who worked for Lady McCaskill respected her, and that was an encouraging sign.
Michael looked up at the sky, which was promising rain, but at that moment, they heard the sound of hoofbeats thundering across the drawbridge. A moment later, four burly guards in Gowanlea livery arrived together with another smaller, slimmer rider. When the figure dismounted, Caillen saw, to his astonishment, it was a woman—and she was wearing the kind of breeches that the farmers wore to work.
Michael marched over to her, his eyes blazing with anger. “Erin, what are you doing? Go and put a dress on, for God’s sake!” he hissed. “What will our new manager think?”
She glared at him. “Excuse me, but did I miss something?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Which one of us is the laird here? Because the last time I looked,Iwas, and if you are not careful, you may find that you are no longer welcome here!
“Anyway, he is not yet our steward, and he may well never be. I have made no decision yet.”
She spun around, still glowering at him, and almost collided with a solid wall of a masculine chest. Two strong hands gripped her arms to steady her, and Erin looked up into a pair of deep brown eyes. She gave a little gasp of fright and shook herself free but could not stop staring at the stranger in front of her.
“I am sorry to have startled you, Milady McCaskill,” the man said, in a low-toned, slightly husky voice. He bowed. “Caillen Johnstone at your service.”
4
It was all that Erin could doto keep her mouth from dropping open in amazement, for Michael’s friend was what she imagined Hercules would have looked like. His hair was as golden as a field of wheat and made a stunning contrast to his deep-set dark eyes. He was taller than almost any man she had ever seen, and his broad shoulders, arms, and calves were gloriously sculpted of hard muscle. She felt guilty and embarrassed as she tried not to think of what lay under his shirt. Her husband’s body was not yet cold in his grave, and she was admiring another man—not only admiring but desiring with such force that it shocked her.
Erin tried not to look too hard at his face in case he saw her naked admiration, but her gaze was drawn to it nonetheless. He had high, sloping cheekbones, a slightly aquiline nose, and an angular jawline, but his mouth, with its full, sensual lower lip, was what attracted her most. She felt her lips tingle, and she was assailed by a pleasant fluttering feeling between her legs that she had never experienced before. She should have been aware of it before—after all, she was a married woman—but although she and Nairn McCaskill had shared tenderness and affection, he had never made her feel like this.
Abruptly, Erin realized that she was staring at him. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she replied awkwardly, suddenly realizing that she was blushing. “Did you have a good journey? Come into my study and have something to drink. My husband kept a very good wine cellar, but it is sadly depleted now, although we brew our own ale too. Do you like ale?”
She was babbling, she knew. It was something she always did when she was nervous, but now she seemed to have completely lost control of her wits. She jabbered on about the weather, the king, the price of wool, and any amount of random topics, not allowing anyone else to get a word in edgewise. All the while, she was aware of his eyes on her.
At last, they sat down, and Erin poured them all wine, glad for the chance to put some space between her and Caillen, if only for a few moments.
“Michael tells me you need an estate manager,” Caillen began. “Can you tell me more about the position? I have never worked as a steward before, but I have some experience in many of the disciplines involved. He has explained much of what you need, and I am satisfied that I can manage to do most of the work. I am particularly interested in the accounts, however, since that is where most of your problems seem to lie at the moment.”
“I agree. I think that we should start with the finances,” she answered. “I have been told that my husband was swindled out of a lot of profit by unscrupulous suppliers—men whom he trusted.” Her voice was almost a growl, and she frowned fiercely. Then her thoughts were jerked away in another direction as their fingers touched while she handed him the glass, and her whole body tingled.
