Page 31 of Her Magnificent Mistake
Gabby nodded sadly. “Well then. Good luck. Hawk is waiting for you in the study.”
Taking a deep breath, Marcia nodded, steeling herself for another day of manipulation and lies.
And whatever Hawk was willing to give her.
“Are you ready for another exciting day of ledgers and maths?”
Hawk’s gaze—and attention—jerked away from the window to see Marcia smiling at him from the doorway. She had every reason to hate him, and yet here she was, smiling.
Why?
Why was he worth such smiles?
In his trousers, his cock throbbed in memory of last night’s particularly delicious hand-frigging, reminding him of how unworthy he was.
He’dhurther, and he was still using her memory for pleasure.
She’s waiting for an answer. “Actually…” He cleared his throat and turned away from the beautiful view of Beinn Mhòr in the distance. “I think we’re mostly caught up. My Grandda’s secretary left when he died, and I dinnae think this study has been so organized since he was alive.”
Stepping into the room, Marcia looked around, brow raised. “Organized? I think not.”
Oh. Well, it was true the room was in a bit of disarray. “I meant the paperwork.” He crossed to the desk and began stacking the ledgers they’d worked on yesterday, half-distracted and not paying attention to the piles.Just dinnae look at her, that’s the trick. “It was remarkably helpful, to transfer the records from all the receipts and the little flittery bits of paper lying around to the books.”
There was a teasing in her tone when Marcia scooped up one of the piles of those papers and said, “Yes, but perhaps we ought to have cleaned up as we went? Or do you think Artrip should handle this?”
“Och, nay.” Hawk lifted a set of books hastily and crossed to the shelf, only dropping one as he turned. “I’d prefer to organize them myself. After all, I’m going to need to find them again.”
“Ah, true.” She was quiet for a moment, then hazarded, “Did your grandfather have a particular organizational system?”
“I’m…no’ certain.” Hawk frowned up at the shelves as he found places for the books he hadn’t yet dropped. “This seems to be the agricultural records, but the daft auld fool didn’t keep them in chronological order.” A memory caused him to snort, a smile tugging at his lips. “Grandda always said an orderedmindmeant ye didnae need to order yer surroundings. As long as he could recall where everything was, he didnae need to put it back in the same place each time.”
“He sounds like an interesting person. I am sorry you lost him.” Marcia stooped to pick up the book he’d dropped.
Hawk shrugged, pulling down one record book and moving it three places to the left as he most definitely did not glance down at Marcia’s bosom. It was just that eye-catching pendant she wore, really. That was the only reason to look there, not the memory of the kiss in the gazebo…
Stop it.He swallowed.
“Thank ye. He always seemed so strong to me, so vigorous, it was hard watching him grow auld. Still, his death was sudden, his heart just stopped one night. I visited him the month afore he died, and we shared our memories and kind words then. I kenned he was proud of what I’d accomplished, and he kenned I loved him.”
“We should all be so lucky,” she whispered.
“Aye.” Why the hell was theSpring 1887ledger among the early 1890s? Shaking his head, Hawk pulled it down and slotted it into its correct spot. “And he died kenning his legacy was in good hands, so he was at peace.”
“Your hands, you mean?”
It was the sharpness in her tone that caught Hawk’s attention. He turned to see her standing with her hip propped against the desk, turning the book over her in her hands, eying him with a slight frown. When she noticed him watching, she glanced away.
“No’myhands, Marcia,” he gently corrected. “My cousin Franklin was Grandda’s auldest son’s auldest son. His father had died years before, but my cousin had trained his whole life to run Tostinham. He was ready.”
A hint of blue peeked from beneath her lashes, and Marcia’s free hand rose to fiddle with the blue pendant she seemed to always wear nowadays. “He did not last long though, did he?”
What a…crude way to speak of such grief. A little hurt by her coolness, he reached out to pull the ledger from her hand. “No,” he said abruptly, turning back to the shelves. “He died late last year, succumbing suddenly to a stomach ailment. Eating bad eels, the doctors said.”
“And then his brother became the Baron?”
She certainly had been paying attention, hadn’t she? Hawk slid the book into place before answering, his heart heavy. “Aye, my cousin Roger inherited, but barely had time to settle in afore he was killed in a fall while riding. The saddle straps snapped.”
“Tragic.”
