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CHAPTER THREE

Niall debated lettingthe phone, linked to the loudspeaker, go through to his answering service. Debated long enough for Lucy’s crisp, business-like voice to echo in the rafters, stating she was outside the workroom and expected him to open the door.

“You’ve changed the locks.”

“Good morning, Lucy.” She was wearing a gauzy, creamy blouse with some sort of ruffle at the throat. Very nineteenth century, probably perfectly suited to the hushed quiet of McTavish’s antiques showroom, unlike his own dusty jeans and work shirt.

She frowned. “Shouldn’t I have a set for the purposes of resumption in case of default?”

“Cam changed the locks and kept a set of keys after the insurance company asked for increased security.” Niall counted to ten in his head. A generous assessment would put her motormouth down to nerves. He could afford to be generous. “If you can’t find them, I’ll get another set made. I won’t be giving you grounds for eviction.”

“Sorry. That was a genuine question.” She pushed a hand through her hair, and for a heartbeat, he held his breath waiting for today’s loose chignon to unravel. “I’m having trouble getting my tone right.”

“With everyone, or just me?” Niall was interested she’d make the confession.

“Mostly you,” she admitted. “Given I can’t kick you out for not paying rent, I guess I don’t have many options for eviction.”

“Read the basics of commercial leases.” He leaned against the doorjamb, blocking her view of his workshop. “If I damage the property, if I fail to uphold my end of the bargain, you’ve got grounds.”

“I didn’t expect to become a landlord.” She rose on her toes, trying to peer over his shoulder. “What’s your end of the bargain?”

“Some insurance, utilities, minor repairs, and I’m responsible for cleaning and general maintenance.”

“Can I visit whenever I like?” Her heels hit the ground, and she met Niall’s gaze, her eyes not as red-rimmed as yesterday. Although she was back to wearing makeup. Deftly applied, it provided camouflage.

“As my landlord, it’s appropriate to make an appointment and give me a reason.” Niall continued to block her view.

“Did Grandpa make appointments?” Her voice held a winsome curiosity.

“Cam called in whenever he wanted a chat. He came as a friend and mentor, not as a landlord. Occasionally, he checked if any repairs were needed.”

“I called in to discuss Grandpa’s will.” She dangled a brown paper bag in front of his face. “And I brought sandwiches.”

“I pegged you for polite.” Niall registered the pink blush on her cheeks. Was she embarrassed by the compliment or yesterday’s behaviour? “You didn’t need to bring food.”

“If I’d been properly channelling my gran, I’d have brought cake.”

“Liùsaidh,” he murmured, stepping back.

“Yes.” Her chin jutted out, ready for a fight. “I’m named for her.”

“I didn’t know.” Niall decided the old-fashioned Scottish name suited her.

He’d looked up its meaning when he’d first heard it—warrior. Lucy was a warrior. He hadn’t figured out what she was fighting for yet, to hoard her family’s wealth or something else.

“Cam always called you Lucy. Come in.”

“It surprised both of them to discover Mum named me after her.” She crossed the threshold and halted. “To say Mum rebelled against everything they stood for would be an understatement.”

Niall stored away the personal details she revealed. Cam had been protective of both his daughter and granddaughter. “Whereas you took to preserving old furniture with a vengeance.”