“And do you enjoy your work?”
“Aye, sir.”
It was true. Most of her life, she’d been lonely, so the company of the other servants here had proven a welcome surprise. She liked the laird and his lady, too. They treated the people who worked for them with a consideration and respect that she appreciated. Glen Lyon had a happy, busy atmosphere that she loved.
“It must be nice to be with your uncle.”
“Aye, sir,” she said, turning to saw a ragged branch of holly from an unpromising bush. It was a hint that she didn’t want to make conversation. A hint Mr. MacNab ignored, to her chagrin.
He stopped a few feet away, and her shoulders twitched under the disreputable coat as she felt him studying her. “Where did you live before this?”
Unfortunately, “Aye, sir,” wouldn’t cover this one. “Near Inverness,” she said shortly, tossing the branch into the cart.
The surrounding quietness suddenly struck her as ominous. She’d imagined that other members of the party would have spread out into this glen, but she and Mr. MacNab seemed to be alone.
“Where, exactly? I know that part of the world quite well.”
She bit back an irritated sigh. He would, wouldn’t he? “It was a wee, wee village. I doubt you’d ken the place.”
“Try me.” He’d stepped away from the cart and watched her with a steady concentration that she was sure no humble stableboy merited.
Cold fear oozed down her backbone, and she glanced around the snowy woods in desperation, too flustered to think of making up a convincing lie.
She shivered, then shivered again. The air had turned freezing. Her jumpiness wasn’t the only thing making her blood run cold.
“I think we should head back, sir,” she said with a hint of urgency. “It’s going to snow.”
He didn’t shift. Nor did he give up on questioning her, devil take him. “Do you miss your parents?”
“I’m an orphan.” That at least was no lie. Although she did in fact come from an estate near Inverness further east. She now wished that she’d lied about that.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Aye, sir.”
She knew he was waiting for her to elaborate on what had happened to her family. But she remained stubbornly silent.
After a while, he heaved a sigh and cast her a wry look. “You’re not the world’s most talkative soul, are you, Kit?”
“No, sir,” she said and hoped he didn’t hear the satisfaction in her voice.
“Yet when you’re with Andy and William, you chatter away like a magpie.”
Heaven help her, this was getting worse and worse. His curiosity about her clearly hadn’t started this afternoon. Or even yesterday. He’d been observing her for a while.
So far, her disguise had got her through. Laing kept her away from the other staff as much as he could, and she’d acted the part of a shy, monosyllabic adolescent in the servants’ hall with great success. But she had no illusions that if anyone with sharp eyes checked too closely, they would soon dismantle the myth of Kit Laing, self-effacing stableboy. And Quentin MacNab had eyes both sharp and clever, curse him.
“They’re good bairns,” she said now.
Actually Mr. MacNab was right. Out of everyone on the whole estate, the children were the only people she could relax with. Now she questioned the wisdom of her behavior.
“When they feel like it,” Quentin said dryly.
“There’s nothing wrong with a bit of spirit, sir.” She added the “sir” as an afterthought.
“No, there’s not.” He continued to study her as if he guessed all her secrets.
Fear made her feel queasy, even as she told herself to bluff it out. There was no reason for Mr. MacNab to take enough interest in her to expose her true identity.