Page 32 of My Highland Rogue
“I do,” she said, nodding. “It’s my annual journal.”
He kept a calendar himself, one for each of his establishments. There were things that he needed to do regarding maintenance and upkeep of the properties. It was the only way he could oversee everything.
“Did you take on all this when Lauren couldn’t?”
She shook her head. “No, earlier than that. After you left.”
The words hung in the air.
“Both our lives changed, then,” he said.
She nodded. “When I wasn’t in Edinburgh, being paraded through the marriage mart. My godmother married late, but she was still determined to find me a husband.”
“No likely candidates?” he asked, smiling.
She shook her head. “Besides, they weren’t you.”
“For which I’m eternally grateful.”
She didn’t say anything, merely tilted her head slightly.
“Did you expect me to be an idiot and say that I’m sorry you couldn’t find a husband? I’m not that much of a hypocrite.”
“Are you being a dog in the manger, GordonMcDonnell? You didn’t want me yourself, but you didn’t want anyone else to have me—is that it?”
“Who said I didn’t want you, Jennifer Adaire?”
He smiled at her and stood aside so that she could enter the linen room. She didn’t get a chance to say anything further because Mrs. Thompson and one of the maids were standing there waiting for her.
It was truly unfair. He couldn’t say something to her like that when she couldn’t respond. Jennifer frowned at him, but that didn’t stop Gordon from smiling.
Who said I didn’t want you?
“Miss Jennifer?”
She could feel her cheeks warming as she looked at the housekeeper.
“Yes, Mrs. Thompson,” she said briskly. “Shall we get on?”
The annual inspection of the linens wasn’t a complicated task, but it was time-consuming. They had to open each folded sheet and inspect its condition. If it needed mending, it would go in one pile to be given to the seamstress and her assistants. If a sheet was deemed too damaged it went into another stack. They were either sent to be used in the servants’ quarters or torn into rags.
Gordon didn’t stay with her, but left to write a letter to one of his managers and then to check on his driver. He’d always been solicitous of other people and evidently that hadn’t changed over the years.
Mrs. Thompson asked her about two sets of French linens, one of which predated her grandmother. They had faded to an ecru color, were worn to the point that they were almost threadbare in certain places, but they were festooned with a four-inch band of beautifully crafted lace at the top.
“Set those aside for my chamber, Mrs. Thompson. It’s a shame to get rid of them just yet.”
The rest of the inventory took nearly two hours. At the end of it she was heartily tired of unfolding and folding sheets, but they wouldn’t need to do this task again until next year.
By that time Gordon had joined her again. He took her hand and walked with her to the main staircase. “What do you have to do now? Inspect the dairy? Oversee the delivery of a litter of piglets? Shoe a horse?”
She laughed. “Not quite all of that.”
Gordon pulled her into the alcove beneath the bend of the stairs and kissed her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, stood on tiptoe, and gave in to the feeling. Passion flowed through her, caressing her like velvet, dancing a pattern on her skin.
When he murmured her name against her lips, she gripped him even tighter.
