“Honey is good for wounds.”
“Good for poison too. As is thyme.”
“Will it help them?”
Ivy watched the young cats, trying to fathom why anyone should object to the creatures living in an abandoned barn. Until she decided to make it a proper home for them, no one had even noticed they existed.
“Only time will tell.”
Cillian put an arm around her shoulder, and she couldn’t resist leaning into the strong support of his body.
“All will be well, sweeting,” he said softly, his breaths whispering over her hair.
She allowed herself a small smile. With Cillian at her side, she could almost believe that.
***
Never in Cillian’s life had he been so worried about some damned cats.
He paced past the opening of the stables, pivoted sharply on his heel, and marched past again, this time stopping to peer inside.
Ivy remained tucked in the corner, watching over the cats who were currently resigned to their temporary prison and settled to sleep on the blanket the housekeeper had reluctantly handed over. Ivy didn’t want the cats roaming about the estate in case they took gravely ill, and she would not be able to help them.
He curled his fingers around the wooden frame and observed his wife lean in and murmur something to one of the cats whilst she gave it a fuss. He smirked and shook his head. Behind those sweet smiles and rosy cheeks was a quick mind and a determined attitude. How she had put Cook in his place was something of a marvel.
Even Cillian, with his experience of ordering about even the most rebellious and angry of soldiers had yet to figure out how to handle a staff of people who clearly hated that he had inherited. One thing he and Ivy agreed on was that it was not worth risking a changeover of servants. With the estate finding its feet still, it was preferable to have experienced servants, even if it meant putting up with petulant looks and a reluctant workforce.
Perhaps Ivy could turn them around, though.
By chance, it seemed he might have picked quite the wife.
It was just a shame, he hadn’t figure out how to be quite the husband.
Perhaps he never would.
Shah approached, slightly out of breath. He paused, put his hands to his knees, and sucked down a few breaths before straightening.
Cillian peered at him. “Did you run here, Shah?”
He tapped his slightly rounded belly. “Does it look like I make the habit of running?” He shook his head. “Your blasted house is so big, Cillian, it takes me an eternity to get anywhere.”
“You can hardly lay blame at my feet for the size of my house.”
“What do you know?” Cillian demanded.
“These lot aren’t the loveliest of people but none of them would stoop so low as to poison cats.” Shah peered around him and Cillian felt some odd need to step in front and block Ivy from his view though why he should wish to hide her from a man he trusted, he didn’t know.
He did know, however, despite her efficiency in caring for the animal, she was deeply worried and vulnerable at present. He’d rather no one witness that apart from him.
“No one is going to readily admit to poisoning animals,” Cillian reminded his steward.
“I’m no fool.” Shah folded his arms, his expression firm. For a moment, the man looked an awful lot like the lieutenant he had met years ago, before war had ravaged him. The echoes of a strong, skilled man lingered, and Cillian suspected few would be able to lie to such a man.
It didn’t mean he trusted his household, though.Someonehad put garlic in the cats’ food.
“Have you questioned everyone?”
“Indeed.”