Page 23 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
She was only a few inches shorter than he was, with broad shoulders and a build hinting at masculinity. Her normal stance was to plant her large feet wide, fold her arms in front of her, and scowl down in judgment over the penitent.
God help the man who got on her bad side.
A great many people petitioned Brianag, and it might either be fear or their belief in her abilities. Many mornings he’d come downstairs only to be told his housekeeper had been summoned to the village to treat a broken bone or another injury.
According to Brianag, the villagers had nicknamed him the Devil of Drumvagen. He’d learned that interesting bit of nonsense a few years ago when she pinned him down in this same room.
“Why?” he asked. “I’ve never done anything to earn such an idiotic name.”
“You’ll find you don’t have to, here at Drumvagen,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s enough you look like Old Nick.”
“What do you mean?”
She folded her arms and tilted her head a little, studying him.
“You’ve got the black hair and blue eyes, and a wicked grin when you’re not all somber. I’ve heard tell in the village the girls were warned away from you. Maybe they’re thinking you’d lure them here to have your wicked way with them.”
He frowned. “Where would they get such an idea?”
She shrugged. “Still, it makes for a good tale. And it gives the village mothers something to use with their children.”
Startled, he could only stare at his housekeeper. “You mean as a warning? Be good or the Devil of Drumvagen will get you?”
She smiled. “I think the devil part is because you expect people to jump to your bidding quickly, with no questions asked.”
He regarded her in astonishment. He was unfailingly polite to his staff, including her, even though there were times when he was annoyed or irritated.
“I’ve never heard anything more ridiculous.”
She thrust one imperial finger at him. “That’s the reason,” she said, “right there. You’ve a temper about you.”
“And you, Brianag. I’ve heard you shouting at the maids.”
Her frown was an imposing sight, with her bushy eyebrows coming together in a single line.
He suspected she agreed to work for him because of curiosity. Working here was a way to discover what he was doing at Drumvagen. Over the last five years she’d created a fiefdom, one she ruled with an iron hand.
“Is she settled?” he asked now.
“In the room you made for her,” Brianag said.
How the hell had she known that? He’d given instructions for the rooms to be redecorated shortly after he met Virginia. The furniture was to be French, upholstered in a rose pattern. The curtains and wallpaper were to be the softest pink, her favorite shade. Pots were to be filled with the most priceless rose potpourri. He’d worried about the timetable of getting everything perfect for Virginia before their wedding.
The wedding that had never happened.
“How long will she be staying?”
He wasn’t about to tell her he didn’t know. Hell, he didn’t even know why Virginia was here.
He was not going to question Providence at the moment, however.
“You’ll see to her maid and the driver as well?”
When his housekeeper just raised one eyebrow, he amended his statement. “Of course you will. And dinner, too. Something special, I think.”
The second eyebrow joined the first. Her mouth thinned and her arms remained folded in front of her.
Brianag’s annoyance wasn’t as important as another fact, startling, confusing, and a blessing.
