Page 13 of Glasgow Rogue

Annie was so elated over the way the day had gone that she didn’t even get annoyed when both Niall and Owen showed up to escort her home.

She noticed they’d both changed into regular street clothes and the swords were gone.

Owen was even carrying one of those fancy walking sticks the English favored.

Perhaps they had put their rivalry behind them.

At least, they wouldn’t scare the other people off the sidewalks on the way back home.

“Why are ye here?” Niall asked Owen as Annie went to get her shawl. “’Tis nae your responsibility to escort the lass.”

“I had to return the storage contract,” Owen answered and then held the door open as Annie joined them. “Besides, maybe I enjoy Miss Ferguson’s company.”

“Ye would see Annie at supper,” Niall muttered as they walked outside and down the steps.

One of Owen’s brows rose. “If you are on such familiar terms that you address Miss Ferguson by her first name, perhaps she needs a chaperone from you.”

Niall scowled. “Are ye challenging MacDonald honor?”

Owen smiled easily. “Only if you think it justified. Rumor in Arisaig has it you left a trail of brokenhearted lasses.”

The scowl deepened. “Ye may think on your own reputation, MacLean. Ye had more than one father ready to lock up his daughter while ye were in town.”

Annie sighed. So much for thinking their silly game was over. “I would really nae want to hear of your conquests with ladies.”

Niall blinked at her. “I doona discuss such things.”

“Neither do I,” Owen said.

“Good. Then it’s settled,” Annie replied, although she had a feeling nothing was settled between the two men.

Neither did she have any doubt that both of them left an assemblage of disappointed ladies behind.

She had to admit that Niall and Owen were good-looking and braw to boot.

Even if they weren’t scoundrels like Broderick and didn’t make promises they didn’t intend to keep, they were smooth-talking enough that na?ve, innocent girls of marriageable age would read intent into their words.

Annie grimaced. At least, she wouldn’t fall into that trap.

She decided to change the subject and turned to Owen.

“Ye will be glad to ken I cleared the space ye wanted for your storage.”

“All of it?” Owen looked surprised. “There were a good number of barrels taking that space.”

“Aye. Barley barrels bound for the States,” Annie answered, “but I moved them.”

“I dinna think ye were going to be working in the warehouse,” Niall said.

“Doona fash. I did nae handle them,” Annie said. “Mr. Kingsley instructed the workers. I only assisted in taking count.”

Niall gave her a stubborn look. “But I thought ye said ye would be managing the paperwork.”

Annie tried to hide her exasperation. “How do ye think I can count the barrels if I doona actually see them?”

“Is that nae what the foreman is for?”

Although she was grateful that John had gone over the books with her this afternoon—they had caught two minor subtraction errors—she didn’t want to relinquish what authority she had.

Men were quick to take total control if given the opportunity.

“I am responsible for the entries I make in the ledger.”

Niall set his jaw. “But ye were nae moving the stock to a ship, so there were nae entries to be made.”

Annie wanted to stomp her foot, but that would be equivalent to a childish tantrum. The man was incredibly stubborn and had the single-mindedness of a hawk soaring over its prey. “I just want to make sure everything is accounted for.”

“Which I think is a very good thing,” Owen said before Niall could reply. “I will rest easy knowing my kelp bales will be watched over.”

Annie gave him a grateful smile although she wasn’t sure how serious he really was being. “Thank ye for trusting me to do my job.”

Owen returned her smile. “I have no doubts you will.”

Beside them, Niall made a noise that sounded like a growl.

Annie smothered a grin.

****

Her good humor quickly faded the next morning when she entered the office. Mr. Haines was pacing by the counter. Kingsley stood on the other side. Neither of them looked pleased. In fact, Mr.Haines actually looked angry.

“Is something amiss?” she asked, glad that Niall for once hadn’t come inside with her. She didn’t need him coming to her defense over her job.

Mr. Haines turned as she came in. “The barley barrels were moved.”

Annie frowned. “Aye. Mr. MacLean is expecting a shipment of kelp to arrive soon. That location is the driest in the warehouse.”

Mr. Haines looked as though he were debating what he wanted to say. Kingsley stood quietly watching him. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“No.” Mr. Haines paused. “You are quite right that it is the driest location, but that is why I put the barley barrels there. If the wood gets damp, the barley will rot by the time it reaches the States.”

“I dinnae realize that,” Annie replied, “but the side wall should be dry as well.”

“That may be, but I prefer the barrels to stay where they were. Delivering the barley—dry—produces more profit than simply storing kelp bales for a short period.” He opened the door leading into the warehouse. “I will have them put back. In the future, please see to it they remain where they are.”

He left before Annie could respond. She gave Kingsley a puzzled look. “Both places should be dry. I just thought the one closest to the office would be better for the kelp with less wind to blow through.”

“You are correct about that,” Kingsley answered, “and the barrels are set up on blocks so even if the floor did get wet, the bottoms would remain dry.”

“Then why do ye think Mr. Haines was so upset?”

Kingsley looked thoughtful. “I am not sure.”

****

Annie was still pondering over it late that afternoon when Niall arrived to walk her home.

Mr. Haines had not come back into the office.

When she’d checked the warehouse, all forty barrels—she’d counted them twice—were back in their original place.

She hoped Mr. MacLean wouldn’t mind the switch in location.

“Where is Owen?” she asked Niall as they started back toward the boardinghouse.

Niall frowned. “Why do ye ask?”

Goodness, but he sounded irritated. And Niall thought she was prickly? She’d merely asked a question. “’Twas a change in location for storing his kelp at the warehouse. I wanted him to ken.”

“Oh.” His expression smoothed. “I have nae seen MacLean since this morning. Why was a change made?”

“I am nae sure. Mr. Haines seemed quite upset that the barley had been moved.”

Niall stopped walking. “Did he insult ye?”

Annie stopped too. “Nae. He just…just was adamant that the barrels should stay where they had been. He even had them put back.”

“But he did nae offend ye?”

She shook her head quickly and started walking again before Niall decided to go back and have words with Mr. Haines. “I cannae take offense because my boss requests something so simple. ’Tis my responsibility to follow his wishes.”

Niall caught up to her in two strides. “Aye, but ye are a lady. I’ll nae allow the man to mistreat ye.”

A part of her should feel indignant because Niall thought a woman couldn’t handle criticism, but he sounded so concerned that Annie wondered if he might actually care about whether she was treated like a lady.

Unbidden, an image of Sir Walter Raleigh spreading his cloak over a puddle floated through her mind.

Another emotion stirred inside her—one that she’d not allowed to surface in a long time—one that made her suddenly feel feminine and maybe even fetching.

She pushed the thought back. That path was one she’d walked down before, only to be thoroughly disillusioned.

“I am nae so stubborn that I cannot accept an order.”

One of Niall’s black brows rose. “Ye willnae accept an order from me.”

“Ye are nae my…” Annie stopped talking, mortified that the word “husband” had almost slipped out.

Where in the world had that come from? First, Sir Raleigh and now…

husband? What was wrong with her that a simple statement from Niall could make her thoughts spin in directions for which they had no reason to go?

Niall was looking at her oddly. She needed to say something.

“…employer. I am earning wages at the warehouse.”

“Aye, but that does nae give Haines the right to disrespect ye.”

That strange feeling shot through Annie again. “At least Mr. Haines did nae shout at me like some men have.” She managed to shrug and hoped she sounded nonchalant. “Our Progress Club is nae exactly popular with men.”

“That is nae excuse,” Niall replied as they reached the boardinghouse. “Nae one will shout at ye again if I am around, lass, unless they wish to see what a Highlander can do with a sword.”

Having seen the assortment of weapons—including a claymore which Niall thankfully didn’t wear—Annie had no doubt he meant the words. Highlanders seemed to have their own code of honor to follow. Still, her heart fluttered a little as Niall opened the door for her and she silently walked inside.

****

“As long as the kelp stays dry, I do not mind it being put in a different location,” Owen said after Annie told him of the change in plans later that evening at the supper table.

Niall watched her covertly, thinking she looked far more relieved than a mere move of goods warranted. Had Haines been more critical of her than she mentioned?

“’Tis a good spot,” Annie said. “Thank ye for understanding.”

Owen grinned. “I try to be accommodating…at least, with charming ladies.”

Annie’s face turned pink. “I am nae sure I ever charmed anyone.”

“You do not give yourself enough credit, then,” Owen said. “You are quite captivating.”

Hell. MacLean was flirting with her. Annie’s blush had deepened. She didn’t blush when Niall gave her a compliment. Her face might turn red, but it was more oft from a fit of temper at one of his remarks.

“Ye are verra kind,” Annie passed a bowl of mashed turnips to him.

“I am sincere,” Owen replied, taking the bowl.

Niall put a forkful of meat into his mouth to keep from telling MacLean to stop it.

Not that he had the right to say anything.

He didn’t. He’d offered—well, Annie would say insisted—to escort her simply because he didn’t want her being attacked again.

Any red-blooded Highlander—and certainly a MacDonald—would do the same.

Not that Annie didn’t intrigue him. She did.

Stubborn. Proud. Independent…and immune to his own flirtatious comments.

That was probably why he resented Annie’s seeming acceptance of MacLean’s remarks.

They were like a gauntlet thrown down in Niall’s path.

A challenge. Nothing more. He certainly was not jealous.

“Allow me to serve you,” Owen said as he spooned turnips onto Annie’s plate.

Annie smiled at him. “Thank ye.”

“It is my privilege,” Owen replied. “Would you like some oat pudding as well?”

“Aye, that would be good.”

Niall tore off a piece of bread and stuffed that into his mouth too. Had Annie suddenly lost the use of her own hands to put food on her plate? And what was MacLean trying to do, acting like some damn English courtier?

Owen glanced at him, a side of his mouth turned up in what looked like a smirk. “You are being awfully quiet this evening, MacDonald.”

It was a good thing his mouth was full or he would have said something he’d likely regret. Not that words mattered right now. MacLean had issued an unspoken challenge to gain Annie’s approval. Niall wasn’t one to turn down a fight. The gauntlet had been thrown. He was determined to win.

And he was not jealous.

****

“Really, the way ye run on about Mr. MacDonald and Mr. MacLean, I am wondering if ye doona kind of like the attention,” Nairna said Saturday afternoon as the Progress Club met at the tearoom.

Her twin, Kiara, giggled. “I ken I would.”

Annie glowered at them. “I am nae running on.”

Fenella smiled. “Aye, ye are a bit.”

“I am nae…” Annie paused and then sighed. “Och, ye are right. But I am doing so because the two of them are acting like bairns.”

“With all those weapons he wears, ’tis hard to imagine Mr. MacDonald as a wee bairn.” Cora laughed.

“Aye. He is verra braw,” Inis murmured.

Annie drew her brows together. This wasn’t the first time Inis had made that observation. “I dinnae say he was wee. I said he was acting childish. They both are, always trying to best each other, like lads in a schoolyard.”

Last night at supper had merely proved the point.

For some unknown reason, Owen’s remark about Niall being quiet had seemed to pique his ire.

Not only had he started talking, complimenting everything from the gravy she’d made to the gown she was wearing, but he’d sliced the cake and heaped extra frosting on her plate and then insisted on pouring her more wine—a gesture that nearly spilled the whole bottle on her mother’s linen tablecloth since Owen reached for the bottle at the same time. A tug of war had nearly ensued.

Even now, they had stationed themselves outside the door, assuming wide stances with arms folded across their chests, looking like two feudal warriors in their tartans. Annie sighed again. “I hope they are nae scaring customers away or we will be asked to leave.”

Cora looked around. “I doona think we need to worry about that. I think they may actually be drawing in customers.”

Inis nodded. “’Tis nae every tearoom that has two good-looking men standing at the door.”

“Aye. I think more women have come in since we’ve been here,” Fenella said.

“Of course the place if full of women. Ye doona expect men to come to a tearoom, do ye?” Annie asked.

Both twins giggled. “I doona think Annie’s beaus will allow men in,” one of them said.

“They are nae my beaus!” Good Lord in heaven.

She certainly didn’t need that kind of a rumor to get started.

Niall and Owen might be giving her compliments, but she knew better than to believe smooth words.

Besides, it was obvious there was some unspoken rivalry between the two, probably relating to some feud that could be decades, if not centuries, old.

All Scots had long memories, but Highlanders had acquired special acumen in that area.

“They are guards, if anything. Not that they are needed as such.”

“’Tis true,” Aileen had not spoken until now.

“Is it possible to slip away from them on Monday evening? We are scheduled to give a speech at the Trades Hall and I’d rather we try to persuade the tradesmen that we are sincere about wanting—and having the ability—to work alongside them.

If we’re shadowed by your two armed guards, we will appear weak and nae able to fend for ourselves. ”

Annie grimaced. She didn’t need to be told that Aileen was right. They needed to appear strong, not in need of benefactors. “I will find a way.”