“I said, I’mfine.” His pencil dug deeper into the wood.
“Huh.” James leaned back and rubbed his chin. “If I’d spent the night with someone as bonnie as Violet Waverly, I’d need some rest—”
James’s words cut off as Callum lunged across the table and grabbed at his tie, red blurring his vision. James dodged and held up a defensive hand as he cackled. “I knew I could goad you into a response. Are you going to tell me about it?”
Callum snarled. “No.” He couldn’t talk, eventhinkabout her. When the carriage had pulled away from Claremont Abbey, he’d wondered if his chest might collapse, considered tossing himself from the vehicle and sweeping her into his bed.
But he’d left, and she didn’t want to see him again, would not wait for him. He wasn’t worth waiting for.
James scoffed. “I see you’re back to being a grumpy bastard. I thought it was too good to last.” He gestured towards the sketches. “How long do you think it’ll take to make the repairs?”
Repairs? Damn, his mind had already returned to Violet, her gentle smile, her—
“If it’s how McCullough described it,” he said, referring to the shipyard’s foreman as he tore his focus back to his work, “we can make the repairs on site. Willnae take more than a week to be back in full operation.”
“Wonderful. We can organize the repairs and be in Yorkshire by tomorrow evening.”
Callum gaped even as his pulse skipped. “Ye want to go back? Why?” Returning to Yorkshire was dangerous; if he saw her again, he’d never let her go.
“You won’t understand this, but—” James leaned in and dropped his voice to a stage whisper, “—I was having fun.”
“Ye’re always having fun.”
“Not true.” James pointed a finger at his chest. “I was very well-behaved at the party.”
“Or more subtle than usual.”
His cousin shrugged. “Possible. But is there anything about these repairs that can’t be put into motion within a day of our arrival?”
His sharp mind felt sluggish, as though his thoughts were wading through wet sand. “No, I dinnae think so.”
“And were you planning on making the repairs yourself?”
Callum balked. “Of course no’.”
“Then it’s settled.” James beamed. “We’ll write up the work and return to Yorkshire in time for the ball.”
“That’s—no,” he stammered, slashing his hand as though it would purge him of the joy flooding his veins at the thought of returning to Claremont Abbey. “I’ve been away from the business for too long.”
He’d promised Violet he’d try to return in a moment of weakness, but he knew it was impossible. The costs of the repairs might be devastating, even with the influx of cash from Trembly’sassociates. Unless he managed every penny going in and out of Taggart Maritime, he wouldn’t be able to rest.
“You were away for less than a fortnight and secured thousands of pounds in investments. I think you’ve earned a holiday.”
Callum looked out the window, watched the strips of green and brown whip past, frantic and desperate and angry. “I need to work.”
“Why? You already put in twice as many hours as I do. You could buy yourself a bigger house but you’d never sleep in it, or send the children you’ll never have to the best schools in England. Oh, I’ve got it!” James sneered. “You can send Mam on a grand tour! Of course, she’d have to mail you pictures in Panama, since you won’t see her again—”
“For Christ’s sake,stop!” His words snapped like a whip, and the entire car went silent. His cheeks heated.
James, thank God, dropped his voice. “You want to make me happy? Mam, too? Settle down. Go back to Yorkshire and find that beautiful woman who can somehow see past that prickly exterior to the man I know you can be.”
“But the work—”
“Youarethe work, Callum.You.” James sat back with a huff. “But it’smycompany. Perhaps I’ll fire you, send you off to run a repair shop somewhere.”
His insides froze. “You wouldnae.”
“I might.”
