Page 24 of Deception and Desire
Fenella could feel him watching while her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she strode purposefully between the rows of power looms. With one hand in the air and the basket in the other, she waved farewell to MacGregor as she disappeared around a corner. She made her way up the stairs, her soft shoes gathering dust against the rough wood. Yes, boots for tomorrow.
As she reached the next landing, Colin emerged from the office with another Scot at his side. She stopped, her feet like lead. It washim. She’d recognize that arrogant smile in the dark. The two men spoke, Colin clapping the other on the shoulder, and then they parted. The mystery man continued up the next flight of stairs.
She watched him slowly disappear. First, the shining chestnut waves brushing against a carelessly tied cravat, next his broad back stretching a fine linen shirt and Apollo gold waistcoat to its limit, then the dark kilt and well-muscled calves that wool stockings could not hide. Her mouth went dry.
Chapter Six
Giggles and Gaffes
“Weel, if itisna the lovely Miss Franklin. We didna scare ye off, then?” boomed a deep baritone.
She dragged her gaze from the handsome spectacle ascending the steps and forced a smile, although her heart pounded almost as loud as the taunting voice. “Good morning, and no, Mr.—Colin, I do not frighten so easily.”
“Come in, please. Ian’s waiting for ye.” He held out a massive hand to take her basket. “Let me help ye with that.”
Fenella had a fleeting image of Colin picking her and the basket up as easily as a loaf of bread. The thought put a genuine smile back on her face. “I’ve brought some repast for later and some of my grandmother’s shortbread. I’d be happy to share.”
The smile transformed the giant’s face. He was quite handsome in a dark, rugged sort of way. Lines creased the sides of his cheeks like long dimples, and his blue eyes flashed with amusement.
“I’ve never turned down shortbread. Tell me what time, and I’ll be here.” He ushered her inside the office. “Ian, the woman isna only clever but comes bearing gifts. Her grandmother’s shortbread.”
Ian rose with a grin. “I’ve no’ had any since I was home last. Ma makes a fine effort but nothing like Lissie’s, er my wife,” he explained. “We’ll have to compare.”
“A contest it is, then.” Fenella set the basket next to the chipped desk, the seductive man on the stairs now gone from her mind. “I’m ready for my first day.”
Ian promptly opened a ledger and pulled out a chair for her. They sat side by side for the next two hours as he went over a list of the mill’s customers and expenditures, the monthly recurring bills for supplies and deliveries, and the weekly wages.
“Is this correct? A clothing allowance for each employee?” she asked incredulously. “You pay for their clothes?”
“Not an entire wardrobe, of course.” Ian leaned back in his chair, rolling his shoulders. “Many of our employees are members of our clan or from the village near our castle. They had little or no money when we started the mill. So, we gave an allowance for cloth, and they made their own clothes. We have never quit the practice, but I dinna believe it is so rare as ye think.”
“Don’t some leave as soon as they are given the coin?”
“Och, do I look a fool? They are allowed an allotment of wool after their first year of work and each year thereafter. We canna afford to pay more than the other mills, so we supplement with in-kind wages.” He rested his elbows on the arms of the rickety chair, the wood creaking in protest as he moved within its confines. His kilt hung loosely over his knees. “The Highlanders support families back home. My grandfather is the clan chief, so we are responsible for these folks.”
Fenella mulled this over. Her knowledge of industrialization conflicted with this theory. Workers were more like poorly paid servants, toiling twelve-hour days or more for a pittance. “So, you make less profit but provide for the workers?”
“Dinna get the wrong idea, Miss Franklin. We expect a hard day’s work from every man, woman, and child. But we employ more family than strangers, so we are a wee different from other factories in the city.”
She nodded, a smile curving her lips. Yes, Fenella liked the MacNaughtons.
He pulled several massive books from a shelf. Flipping one open, she saw they contained swaths of cloth. Her fingers ran over a square of pale rose linen and marveled at the superior weave. Another book held wool. “With the demand for brocade and jacquard fabrics, I plan to expand this year. We began with wool, added flax, but silk could double our profits. The last time I went to the theater, I wasna sure if the walls or the clothes of the patrons were bonnier.”
Fenella laughed, then rose from her chair. “Well, I suppose I should get started with these invoices and payments.”
Ian rose at the same time. “I thought I’d give ye a tour of the place first. Ye should ken every aspect of the business if ye’re to work here. We’ll begin downstairs with the storeroom of raw materials. Ye need to learn the different qualities of wool and flax, in case ye ever need to accept a shipment. I’ll introduce ye to the loom workers and the spinners so they recognize yer face.”
“It sounds lovely,” she said in a cheerful tone, though her gaze wandered longingly toward the accounts.
“Last, I’ll introduce ye to my brother. A wee faerie told me ye might have already made his acquaintance.”
Fenella looked up into Ian’s penetrating blue eyes, and her stomach dipped. “Your brother?” Those eyes, the same sapphire shade that had laughed at her yesterday and made her insides quiver.Drat!How had she not seen it before? The man on the stairs was a MacNaughton.
*
Lachlan reached intothe sack and took a section of the core. He checked the quality, amount of debris, and fiber length of the wool and nodded. “Good. If they are all as fine as this, the shipment is worth every farthing.” He ordered every bag opened and a sample inspected in the same manner.
“Who do ye think ye are? The manager doesna examine every bag. Do ye think my employer would cheat ye?” the man asked in affront.
