“Ye are a vile man. She is not an object to barter with. She is a woman. Not chattel.” His stomach churned at Kitt’s disgusting offer.
“See,” Kitt wagged a finger. “That is where you are wrong. Do you want your sheep back or not?”
“Not over Miss Gordon’s integrity. I have no say over what she can and canna do. That is up to her brother.”
“Ah, do not play coy with me, Your Grace. I have seen the way you look at the girl. Anyone near you can tell how much you care for her. And I call your bluff on her brother. The two of you are best friends are you not?”
“Ye canna be serious.”
“Oh, yes. I am. Quite serious as a matter of fact. Ponder my offer, Your Grace, but do not take too long.” He tapped his watch. “Tick Tock. You have less than a week.”
“Ye will ne’er, e’er lay one single filthy finger of yours on Clarissa Gordon. Mark my words.”
Kitt shrugged. “Then you best be pooling your resources. You have got a lot of money to pay up. Unless, of course, the sheep.” His fingers made the shape of a pistol, and he held it up to his temple and pulled the trigger, laughing manically.
The bastard was insane. But Alexander fully believed that he would indeed start killing his sheep if he didn’t get what he wanted. Without another word, he spun on his heel and walked out the door.
Outside, he paused and breathed in deep, listening for the sounds of his sheep. They must have wandered further away from the estate because he could no longer hear them.
“I promise I will get ye home,” he vowed to the wind.
*
Clarissa anxiously awaitedAlexander’s return, but when he walked into the house, the tension rolling off his body was enough for her to not approach him and ask him how his meeting with Kitt went.
It was obvious that things did not go as planned.
The door slammed behind him, and he headed straight for his study.
She assumed he didn’t get his sheep back. If he had, she would think his demeanor would be much more pleasant.
“Let’s enjoy a cup of tea and let the men do whatever it is they need to do,” Gwen said, coming up behind her. Nicholas was there too, though he continued on down the hall towards Alexander’s study. “I think they have much to discuss.” She looped her arm around Clarissa’s and pulled her in the direction of the kitchen.
Clarissa was sick of tea. Every time something happened, she was told to enjoy a cup of tea and leave the men to their discussions. There had to be something she could do to help. Drinking tea was accomplishing naught. But what could she do?
Clarissa let Gwen lead her away. She was right, of course. There was naught she could do to help and would not even ken where to start if she did, no matter how much she wanted to.
“It appears things didna go well,” she quipped, stating the obvious.
Gwen shrugged. “I dinna ken. But I am certain that Nicholas and Alexander will figure out what to do. They have a knack for getting what they want. Surely, this will be no different.”
“Your Grace, Miss Gordon,” Cook greeted them as they entered the kitchen. “Do ye need something?”
“Could we mayhap trouble ye for some tea?” Gwen asked.
Cook nodded and gave them a smile. “Aye, your grace, I can do that. Shall I bring it to the drawing room?” She suggested, not wanting the two of them hanging around the kitchen.
“That would be lovely. Thank ye,” Gwen said and tugged on Clarissa’s arm to follow her.
She would have much preferred to take tea in the library. Sitting on a chaise lounge with a hot cup of tea and a book in her lap sounded like the perfect way to spend the afternoon—and try to get Alexander off her mind.
“I see your brow furrowed in worry, Clarissa. Dinna fash. They will come up with a plan.” She sat in one of the chairs and patted the one next to her for Clarissa to do the same.
“The auction was their plan and that did no’ go as expected.” She wrung her hands together. She didn’t want to sit. Her nerves were frazzled. She was on edge, so she paced the floor.
“Ye canna do anything about it right now, dear Clarissa. Sit,” she commanded gently.
“I dinna think I can. What is going to happen?”
