Page 57 of Her Tempting Traitor
If ever given the opportunity.
He was stuck between a rock and a hard place—which, if memory served correctly, was somewhere up around Lairg. His superiors in the Secret Service wouldn’t accept his excuses, and the Prince had made it clear what would happen if Cassian ever told them the truth.
The only way he could be exonerated was if the Queen herself—elderly and infirm and surely ignorant of all the details—summoned him to tell the truth.
He would have no problem telling her of her grandson’s failings.
Cassian snorted softly.As if that’s likely to happen.
“Bad news, Da!” called Gus from where he’d been discussing presumably fishing with Gabby. “She doesn’t have a line either.”
Cassian stared as the pair picked their way closer.
Gus…Gus had called himDa.
It had been so natural, so unexpected. Almost as if finding his father in bed with Gabbyhadbeen a stamp of approval.
He didn’t bother hiding his smile as he limped across the sand to meet them.
“How am I supposed to go fishing now?” the lad was saying.
But Gabby shook her head, leading them toward the bank with a convenient ledge for sitting. “You cannot fish willy-nilly, Gus. You need a plan.”
“I wasn’t going towilly-nillyanything, Gabby,” he grumbled. “I was going to catch a fish, then take it home for the cook to fry up for me.”
“Yes, Gabby,” Cassian deadpanned, his heart suddenly so much lighter than it had been for weeks while struggling with his troubles. “He’s definitely thought this through. He was going toWilliam-Nillamit.”
Gus blinked as Gabby nodded solemnly. “Yes, thatisthe more formal version of things. But Gus, I meant that you need to know exactly how many fish you will be catching, how you will be catching them, what bait you will be using, and what your plan is once they are in your possession.”
The lad huffed, kicking at the sand as Gabby settled herself on the little ledge, spreading her skirts around her like a perfect lady.
It was almost hard to remember just how unladylike she had been only hours before…
“Fishing isn’t that big of a deal,” his son mumbled.
“On the contrary,” she cautioned, holding out her hands for the lad. She waited until he placed his in her hold, then continued, holding his gaze. “You—your father—Sir Richard…you do notownthis river—youborrowit from the fry yet to hatch. The river is not an all-you-can-eat buffet; every nibble you take, every silted nest you disturb, echoes downstream for generations.”
Gus was frowning in thought as Cassian limped closer, both of them hanging on each word.
She smiled at his son softly. “One cannot churn the spawning beds and still expect the Lochy to flourish. If we wish the River Lochy to feed and shelter our kin tomorrow —I mean, your children’s children—then we must treat her with respect today. True ownership, true dominion lies not in dominion at all, but in care—and care begins with restraint.”
“Dominion,” Gus whispered, wide-eyed. “Restraint?”
“Yes.” She dropped his hands and sat back, her smile lilting. “The river has a long memory, and proper stewardship is vital when it comes to ensuring this estate—which will one day be yours—will prosper for years to come.”
Remarkable.
In her short lecture, Gabby had shown she knew more about land stewardship than Cassian could ever hope to learn. He wasn’t accustomed to being made to feel so ignorant, but Gabby Butcombe had made a habit of surprising him.
Long may that last.
Gus blinked, then shrugged cheerfully. “Aye, that makes sense. If I can’t fish, can I swim?”
Since he had turned to his father to ask that question, Cassian forced himself to consider the water. Finally, he nodded. “Aye, if ye stay near the bank and…” What was it Gabby had said? “Dinnae disturb the spawning nests.”
With a whoop, the lad turned and began to strip out of his shirt. Since his shoes had already disappeared somewhere, Cassian supposed he ought to note where the shirt—och, aye, and the trousers now—were dropped along with?—
“Sorry,” he offered with a wince as his son’s bare arse disappeared into the water. “I thought he’d keep on his drawers.”
