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Sir Wicksteed offered a tight smile. “The trouble is, Lord Hartford, you have no experience in business.” He held up a hand before Cillian could protest. “I do not dislike your plans and I agree, the health of the workers is important in the running of any successful business. However, and forgive me for being so blunt, we do not know you. We knew your cousin and we knew his father. But we do not know you.”
“These plans are far better and stronger than anything my cousin put before you,” Cillian said tightly.
“Come back,” Sir Wicksteed suggested, not unkindly, “when things have settled a little. Once we see what you are made of, we shall consider this properly.”
What he was made of. Cillian shook his head. He knew what he was made of—cannon shot and battle cries. It was the only time he’d ever felt in the right place in his entire life. Sitting around, begging for money from rich men was not what he’d anticipated in life. Truth be told, he’d anticipated he’d most likely die at war, but he was too wretchedly good at fighting.
He was fighting a different sort of war now—a fight to save the estate and all the people dependent on it—and he wasn’t at all sure he knew what the rules of engagement were.
Chapter Ten
The hammering sound increased in volume as Ivy neared the stables. Skirts in hand, she dashed across the damp courtyard into the entrance of the building.
“What are you—” She froze at the same time Cillian did, hammer in hand. “Oh.”
He twisted from his position, keeping hold of the length of wood that Ivy could now see was the start of fencing. But the fencing wasn’t what really made her pause. She swallowed. His bare back stretched before her, taut with muscle as he gripped the hammer.
She couldn’t prevent herself from letting her gaze take a leisurely stroll along his body, noting all the dips and rises. She’d seen him naked already, so why this slightly dirty, sweaty and shirtless man sent a taut shiver all the way down to her core, she didn’t know, however, Ivy would be a fool to deny what the sensation meant.
And the one thought that echoed through her mind again and again.
He’s beautiful.
She almost breathed the word aloud so pressed her lips together.
He’s beautiful.
“One moment.” He turned his attention back to the fence, finished hammering in the nail and retrieved a creased, dirtied shirt from a hook on the wall that she hadn’t noticed. He shoved it over his head, leaving his black hair tousled. Even as he adjusted his eyepatch, she couldn’t stop the thought.
He’s beautiful.
“Did you need something?” he asked, setting the hammer on the floor.
“Well, I...” She gestured vaguely. “I heard the noise and was worried someone was disturbing the cats.”
“They are roaming about somewhere. I checked.”
She swung a glance between the fence and him. “Why exactly areyoudoing that? Mr. Shah said one of the stable hands would put it together in the next week or so.”
“Needed something useful to do.”
The crease of frustration between his brows nearly gave her pause but she wasn’t about to ask him anymore questions. Not after what happened last time. Cillian liked his secrets it seemed.
“I suppose I should...” She sniffed and frowned. “Do you smell garlic?”
He lifted a shoulder. “There’s wild garlic in the woods nearby.”
“No.” She shook her head. “It smells too strong for that.” Ivy moved past and found the bowl the cats had been eating from tucked into the corner by their fresh straw. She couldn’t tell if they had eaten any yet but when she lifted the bowl and sniffed, her heart came to a stop. “Do you know if they ate this morning?”
“I haven’t seen them but I’m sure they’ll return soon for their food.”
“No.” Her voice tangled in her throat, and she coughed to clear it. “No you don’t understand. This has garlic in it.” She lifted the bowl, and he leaned in to smell it.”
“I didn’t know cats like garlic.”
“They don’t.”
“You had better make sure to tell the kitchen to leave it out then. Perhaps Cook felt preparing meat for cats was beneath him and wanted to make it more interesting.”
