Page 41 of The Dravenhearst Brides
Alastair’s mouth continued to move a mile a minute.
Ruth hovered nearby, the equestrian trainer’s face half-hidden in the shadows where she lurked in the stable doorway. She stared at the pair with a murderous glint in her eyes. Her arms were tightly crossed, her toe tapping steadily. Her ice blue gaze flicked to Margot.
Ruth nodded pointedly at her, then toward the pair.Get over there,she seemed to say.
And do what?
Merrick cracked his knuckles over the railing as he listened, and the sight forced her into action.
“Merrick?” she called, beginning to move.
He startled, then held out a hand, signaling her to wait. He turned back to Alastair to say a few brief words, nodding as he spoke. Alastair’s sour face lightened incrementally, appeased. He reached into his pocket and passed over three sheets of paper. Merrick scrawled something—presumably his signature—across the bottom of each page, then handed one back to Alastair.
Margot watched as final false pleasantries were exchanged, then Alastair turned and headed up the hill, departing.
She sighed with relief and continued walking. Merrick met her halfway, folding the papers and sticking them in his pocket.
“What was that about?” she asked.
He gestured uphill toward the house. “Shall we?”
“Merrick.” She fell into step. “What did Alastair want?”
“Same thing he always wants, my distillery and my horses.”
The horses she understood, but the distillery…the estate was bankrupt because of it. Bourbon was a poor investment these days.
“What sordid trouble have you gotten yourself into today?” he asked, eyeballing her dirty yellow dress, the mud caked under her fingernails.
“I’d hardly call gardening with Evangelinesordid,” she replied. “Though I could ask the same of you.” She indicated his smoke-stained shirt, undone at the collar to reveal a teasing glimpse of dark chest hair. Margot’s cheeks flushed, and she lowered her gaze. His sleeves were rolled up to expose sooty hands and forearms, two fresh burn marks marring the skin.
“Don’t know what you mean.”
“You’ve been making barrels again today.” She tweaked his nicked hand, and he flinched away.
“How do you know about the barrels?”
“You have warehouses full of them,” she said. “All empty, gathering cobwebs. Why?”
“You’re not supposed to be sniffing around the distillery.”
“Julian offered to show me.” Bit of a fib, but necessary.
“If you wanted a tour, all you had to do was ask.” He ran a hand through his hair, rumpling it. Grumpy.
“You certainly didn’t make it sound that way when I arrived. You all but forbade me from going near the rickhouses. I wonderwhy.” She injected the final word with a touch of sarcasm. Thanks to Xander, she now knew precisely why, but she wanted to hear Merrick say it.
He held silent.
“And when would I have asked you?” she continued, picking up steam. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I have not.”
“You most certainly have.”
“I most certainly have not.”
She snorted. “You’re a child.”
