“No doubt,” Juliana said. “But a platter of ham and a pile of buttered Indian bread are a bit different from bowls of milk.”
“Aye.” Hamish’s brows drew down again. “But I didn’t ask. The laird’s business is none of mine.”
“Never mind, Hamish,” Juliana said. “I will take care of it. But if Mr. McBride asks you to leave food out for the wee folk again, do come and tell me.”
“He asked me not to, m’lady. Wouldn’t have now, except ye pried it out of me.”
“Nevertheless, you will.”
Hamish met her gaze, weighing obedience to the laird against obedience to the lady. He heaved a sigh. “Yes, m’lady.”
“Good. Thank you, Hamish.”
Hamish’s grin widened. He touched his forehead in a rough salute, turned, and galloped on toward the kitchen.
Juliana tamped down her misgivings and went in search of Elliot.
Uncle McGregor had all but dragged Elliot into the old billiards room at the end of the wing of the ground floor. Several billiards tables reposed here, only one of which was uncovered. The others were cloaked in huge dust sheets with accompanying layers of dust.
“While your wife is busy worrying about the ballroom and the reception rooms, let’s not forget the refuge for the husbands, eh?” McGregor said. “When she has her grand fête, the put-upon clansmen will need a place to retreat.”
Elliot opened cupboards in search of the cue sticks. He knew from the tedious balls he’d attended with his regiment that most husbands had no interest in gatherings that the ladies so loved, let alone any interest in dancing with their own wives. The gentlemen sought escape in cards and billiards, as McGregor said.
Poor bastards. The last thing Elliot wanted was escape from Juliana. He’d dance with her as much as she wanted. He felt whole and strong in her arms—why would he bypass any chance to have that? When he’d seen her in the passage earlier, he hadn’t been able to resist stopping to steal a kiss. Why say an inane Good afternoon. How are you? when a heady kiss was so much more satisfying? The fact that Elliot could kiss Juliana any time he wished was a thing worth celebrating.
“Many’s the night I whiled away the time in here, with my university mates,” McGregor was saying, a wistful note in his voice. “I hated McPherson then, wouldn’t let him in the door. Funny, he’s the only one left now. Only one who stood by me when my lady passed on and the money ran out…”
Elliot found a wooden box of billiard balls along with the cues and carried them to the table. “My old mates are either dead or have buried themselves in the regiment, never to emerge.”
“Aye.” McGregor shook his head while he took balls from the box and rolled them onto the table. “When we’re young, we think it will last forever.”
Elliot wasn’t ready to become moody and nostalgic yet. He wanted many more years with Juliana before it was time to reminisce in the billiards room with the next generation.
Juliana walking in, her eyes bright, her cheek smudged with dust, was one of those things he planned to reminisce about.
“Mr. McBride,” she said. “May I speak to you?”
Mr. McBride. So formal. Elliot thought about the billiards table behind him, pictured seating Juliana on its edge, her skirts up around her thighs. She could call him Mr. McBride all she liked while she smiled at him with desire in her eyes.
McGregor chuckled. “I told you, I swear by the conservatory. Nooks and crannies and comfortable benches.”
Juliana sent him a surprised look. “The conservatory will not be ready for anyone for a time. I have sent away for many new hothouse plants. I assure you, it will be a fine place by the time of the midsummer fête.”
McGregor kept on grinning. “I love a practical woman.” He rolled the last balls onto the table and started out of the room. “You have your chat. Don’t tear the cloth on the billiards table. It’s the one thing I’ve kept intact.”
He went off and shut the door behind him, his chuckles following him.
Juliana’s rust and brown dress set off her red hair and blue eyes, even if the gown was buttoned to her chin. Juliana, who followed all the rules, would change into her evening dress for dinner, perhaps the off-the-shoulder shimmering blue one. Elliot could eat his dinner while imagining pouring another dollop of fine whiskey across her br**sts.
Elliot couldn’t stop himself going to her, meeting her halfway into the room, couldn’t help brushing back a tendril of hair that had come loose. The kiss he’d claimed in the passage had fired his blood, and he’d not yet cooled.
“Elliot, did you hear me?”
“No. What did you say, love?”
“I said that Hamish has told me an extraordinary thing. He says you had him take a platter of ham out to the woods and leave it there. Along with some naan.”
“Aye.” Elliot nodded as he brushed back another tendril of her hair. “Good. I’m glad he remembered.”
“But whatever for? Do not tell me you’ve put it by in case you grow hungry during your next tramp through the woods.”
She looked so indignant that Elliot had to smile. “It’s not for me.”
“Who then? And anyway, animals will get it if you had Hamish leave it beside the path.”
“He bagged it and strung it up in a tree. That is, that’s what I told him to do.”
Juliana’s stare tried to penetrate his fog, to find its way to the real Elliot. He knew she wanted that, but the real Elliot had been lost a long time ago.