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Since Grant had already seen a pair of her stays, he knew they were the opposite of respectable.
He nodded toward a trunk on the other side of the room. “There are clean blankets in there. Off with the jacket, and wrap yourself in one of them while I get this fire going.”
“All right, but keep your back turned.”
“Lass, I’m the boring one, remember? So boring it wouldn’t even occur to me to take a peek.”
“It’s my opinion that your so-called boring behavior is nothing but a ruse to lull the rest of us into complacency.” She waved a hand. “Now, turn around.”
He snorted but complied with her direction and turned back to the stove. “Why, exactly, am I so intent on lulling everyone into a state of complacency?”
“It’s how you get people to do what you want.”
He glanced over his shoulder in disbelief, just as she slipped off her jacket to reveal her stays. They weren’t the ones from the day of the robbery but they were still very pretty, trimmed in blue ribbons instead of pink. Fortunately, since she was facing the trunk, she didn’t see him gaping at her like an untried schoolboy.
Hastily, he turned back to the stove. “Lass, you’re confusing me with someone else. My family rarely does what I want. It’s the opposite, in fact, as is evidenced by our trip to Lochnagar.”
“They ask you to do that sort of thing because they can depend on you.”
“That sounds rather boring,” he dryly replied.
There was silence for several moments before she answered. “I used to think that always being the reliable one is such a bore. But now I think there’s nothing more tiresome—moreboring, in fact—than constantly dashing about and raising a ruckus. Because if you’re doing that all the time, it probably means you’re . . .”
“Bored?”
“Yes. Or something isn’t right, and you’re not quite sure what it is. It’s exhausting trying to figure it out.”
Her voice was quiet, as if she were speaking to herself. She sounded rather lost and alone, and not the confident lass who always faced the world with courage and more than a bit of dash.
Resisting the urge to get up and pull her into his arms, Grant retrieved the flint from the basket next to the stove and started the fire.
“And there’s certainly nothing interesting about an unreliable person,” Kathleen added in a firmer tone. “In fact, it’s immensely irritating.”
“I assume we’re now speaking about a certain little sister who shall remain nameless.”
“Ha ha, how terribly amusing.”
Smiling to himself, Grant added another square to the smoldering peat. It properly caught, and soon a welcome heat poured out into the room.
He stood. “Is it safe to turn around?”
“I am now perfectly respectable.”
Grant turned to find her sitting in one of the cane chairs at the rough-hewn table. Wrapped in a plaid blanket that covered her to the knees, with her thick hair haphazardly contained by a messy topknot, she looked quite raffish and anything but boring.
In fact, she looked like she’d just rolled out of bed after a cracking good tumble. And that mental image now set his mind in an entirely inappropriate direction, especially given their circumstances. At the moment, he could think of nothing he’d rather do more than carry his fey colleen over to the narrow bed in the corner and give her a right, good tumble on the spot.
Kathleen’s smile was a half wince. “I must look a wreck.”
“You look entirely charming. How are your boots? Did they get wet?”
She stuck a foot out, showing him an impressively sturdy boot. “I bought these in Glasgow. Vicky said I would need them in the Highlands.”
“What about the rest of you? You’re starting to get warm enough?”
She rolled her eyes. “I might be skinny, but I’m no Dresden miss, sir.”
Skinny was not how he would describe her. “If I return you to Lochnagar with even a sniffle, Sabrina will murder me.”
