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“Never mind that,” the old man said. “We’ve got a problem.”
One of the terriers let out an anxious little yip as if to underscore his master’s concern.
“This mysterious visitor, you mean?”
“It’s that blastedSasse—”
The sound of a door opening and a quick footfall below in the hall cut him off.
“Hell and damnation,” Angus muttered with a scowl. “Ye’re in for it now, laddie.”
Royal turned around and almost toppled down the stairs.
Ainsley stood at the base of the staircase, garbed in an elegant walking dress and holding a lace-trimmed parasol. She’d regained her splendid figure, and looked as extravagantly beautiful as he’d ever seen her.
She also wore an expression that threatened mayhem.
“Good evening, Mr. Kendrick,” she said in a freezing tone. “If you and Mr. MacDonald are finished lurking about on the stairs, perhaps you might find your manners and come down here. I do believe we have some pressing business to discuss.”
After he got his brain working again, Royal noticed that Ainsley wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was glued to Tira. Her determined expression told him that his world was about to come crashing down around his ears.
Again.
Chapter Eight
Ainsley resisted the urge to dash up the staircase and snatch Tira into her arms. Her bones ached with the need to hold her daughter and feel the warmth of that small, lovely body against her chest. The emotion of the moment all but choked her.
Of course, Angus would probably boot her down the stairs if she got that close. He glowered at her and clutched the baby tightly, as if he were protecting her from a pack of snarling hellhounds. Even the stupid, scruffy dogs looked ready to pelt down and attack the English intruder.
“Please bring Tira back to the nursery,” Royal said to his grandfather.
Ainsley swallowed a protest. Upsetting Royal more than she already had would only put him on the defensive. She needed him almost as much as she needed her baby. Needed him to trust and support her more than ever.
Angus nodded. “Do ye want me to join ye for this little palaver after I do that?”
“I think not,” Royal said in a voice dry as dust. “I’ll send Will up if I need you.”
Ainsley thanked God. The old fellow positively loathed her and would do anything he could to keep her away from Royal. The idea of explaining everything in front of even one other person made her stomach churn. Bad enough to confess her failings to Royal, but to expose herself to anyone else would be unbearable.
Royal ruffled Tira’s glossy black curls with affection. “Off with your Grandda, lass,” he said as she waved her chubby little fists at him. “I’ll see you soon.”
After another troubled glance at Ainsley, the old man turned and headed down the hall. She craned to try to see Tira’s face again, but Angus disappeared before she could get a good look.
Soon you’ll see her all you want. Be patient.
Royal came slowly down the stairs, halting a step from the bottom and looming over her. Of course, he was doing it on purpose, just to make a point. It was silly, though. He was so tall he threw her in shadow even when standing flat on the ground. Royal Kendrick had made her feel uncomfortable and perplexed and a thousand other difficult emotions, but he would never intimidate her.
Because he would never hurt her, at least not by choice.
They cautiously studied each other, like strangers trying to identify enemy or friend. Ainsley gazed into his extraordinary green-glass eyes and had the oddest sensation that she was fallingupinto them. It made her head swim, and she was tempted to grab the bannister to steady herself.
Yet, despite the fraught moment, it wassogood to see him that she had to blink hard against a rush of tears.
Royal’s carefully blank expression became a frown. “Are you all right?”
Rather than succumb to an embarrassing bout of hysterics, she took refuge in a display of bad temper.
“I’ve been waitingforeverfor you to arrive.” She directed a glare at the gangly footman, who was doing his best to look invisible. “Williamstuck me in the drawing room, where I’ve been kicking up my heels for the better part of an hour.”
