Page 17 of Glasgow Rogue

“Ye are nae going to march!”

They had scarcely left the steps of the boardinghouse on the walk to work the next morning before Niall made his announcement. Annie stopped in her tracks. “How did ye find out about that?”

“Inis told us.” Niall narrowed his eyes. “Ye were thinking about sneaking out on me again, like ye did Monday night, nae?”

“I dinnae sneak anywhere. I left in a carriage.”

“Ye ken verra well what I mean, lass. Ye were near killed.”

Annie shook her head. “I doona think anyone meant to kill me.”

“Those men were nae throwing flower petals in the air.”

“I ken that. The stench alone made that obvious. And aye, it was rude—”

“Rude? Rude? Ye cannae be so…” Niall paused.

Annie lifted a brow. “Stupid? Was that what ye meant to say?”

“Nae…I…” Niall ran his fingers through his hair. “If ye cannae truly see what those workers’ intentions were, then ye surely qualify for sainthood.”

Annie put her hands on her hips. “Then ye are calling me stupid. For certain, no one has ever likened me to a saint.”

Niall gave an exasperated huff. Annie had a way of turning his words around. “I meant only a saint would show mercy for what those men did.”

“Ah! So we are in agreement, then.” She gave him a satisfied-looking smirk and started walking again.

Niall frowned and followed her. “What did we just agree on?”

“The protest march, of course.”

Niall stopped abruptly, not sure he’d heard correctly, but Annie continued to walk. In three strides he caught up to her. “I think the bump on your head may have muddled your thinking.”

She glanced at him. “Now ye are calling me a half-wit?”

“Nae!” Niall felt like growling. “Ye just are nae making sense.”

“Um.” She turned her attention to the sidewalk. “That is what half-wits do, ye ken. Make nae sense. ’Tis why they are called such.”

He was going to be half-witted soon himself if Annie didn’t stop using his words against him. “I will never agree to the protest march.”

“Ye doona have to.”

Niall drew his brows together. “What do ye mean by that?”

She stopped again. “Just what I said. Ye doona have to agree. ’Tis my decision.”

“I will nae allow it.” As soon as the words came out, both of her brows shot up and Niall realized too late he’d probably used the wrong words. Again. It seemed Annie had a way of muddling his thinking as well. “’Tis nae safe for ye.”

She inhaled deeply and Niall could practically hear her counting numbers in her head. Finally she spoke.

“I appreciate that ye want me to be safe. I also appreciate that ye came to my rescue Monday night. I admit we were nae prepared for such an onslaught.” She took another deep breath. “But this is different.”

He crossed his arms across his chest. “How?”

“We are going to meet Sunday in front of the cathedral—”

“A church? Ye are planning to meet at a church?” Had the lass truly hit her head too hard? “The minister is nae likely to allow ye to speak.”

“We doona intend to go in,” Annie answered. “We are going to hold signs that the wives will read when they come out, so they’ll ken how their husbands behaved.”

Niall groaned. Men who would be turned out of their beds would be as surly and irritable as a bear awakened in midwinter. “Ye will just make the men more angry.”

Annie shrugged. “Initially, perhaps.”

“’Tis nae wise.”

“There ye go again, telling me I doona ken how to think.”

“I dinnae mean…” Niall muttered a curse in Gaelic under his breath. Annie was going to drive him barmy. “Never mind. Ye are going to be late for work if we stand here arguing over this.”

“Ye are right about that, at least.” Annie stomped off.

Niall sighed and went after her. She might not like his presence, but he had vowed to escort her whether she liked it or not.

He wasn’t going to take the chance on her being accosted on the street, but he wisely kept quiet for the rest of the walk.

It wasn’t until they were at the front door of the warehouse that he spoke again.

“I doona want ye to be part of that protest.”

Annie hesitated on the steps and then shook her head. “Ye are nae my husband. Doona tell me what to do.”

“Ye are still prickly as a thistle.” Niall clenched his jaw and opened the door for her. “We are nae married. Ye are right about that. Somehow, I doona think ye would do as I asked even if I were your husband.”

She gave him a startled look and then her face turned a deep shade of pink as she turned and rushed inside.

Niall closed the door and stared at it. Why in the hell had he said that? He didn’t know, but the woman had the unique ability to make him say the wrong things.

****

Annie was relieved to see no one at the counter when she entered the office.

She needed a moment to gather her thoughts, if not her wits.

Ye are still prickly as a thistle. She deserved that, she supposed, given their argument.

Somehow the words hurt, though, and they hadn’t the last time Niall had told her the same thing.

We are nae married. Ye are right about that.

His tone had been clipped and she’d seen the muscle in his jaw twitch.

He no doubt wanted her to know he was grateful they were not.

Her eyes started to sting and she blinked rapidly.

She should never have made the remark that he was not her husband.

The words had come out before she could stop them.

She should have known better than to even mention the word, given her experience with Broderick.

She’d set herself up for rejection once again.

Rejection. Annie gave herself a shake. How silly to think that.

She couldn’t be rejected from a relationship that didn’t even exist. Niall’s kiss from her dream—her dream—had set her mind wandering in the wrong direction.

How silly, too, to let a stupid comment about not being her husband bother her.

After Broderick, she had vowed she would never marry.

She would never succumb to belonging to a man like the property English law said she would be.

She wanted to be independent. This job, regardless of what men thought, was proof that she could do it.

The door from the warehouse opened, breaking into her thoughts. She looked up to see Kingsley watching her.

“Are you quite recovered, Miss Ferguson?”

Annie nodded. “Aye. I just wish I had nae lost two days of work. I doona want Mr. Haines to think me a slacken.”

“On the contrary. He was quite concerned over what happened.”

Annie breathed a sigh of relief, only then admitting to herself that she had been afraid Mr. Haines would let her go. “I will work verra hard to make it up to him. Tell me what has transpired here while I have been away.”

Kingsley went around the counter and opened the ledger. “On Tuesday, a hundred bolts of woolens were brought in—”

“A hundred bolts? That many?” Annie broke into a smile. “I was afraid the weavers might boycott the warehouse after Monday night.”

“From what I understand, the weavers walked out before the…unpleasantness began,” Kingsley replied.

“Aye, they did, but they were nae happy with what we had to say.”

“Most men do not like to think women are as smart as they are, which makes them fools, does it not?”

Annie smiled again. “Thank ye for understanding.”

“I underestimate no one’s intelligence,” Kingsley answered. “The weavers may not be happy with you working here, but Haines offers good prices for storage and tarps to keep the moths out of the wool. Profit takes precedence over most everything.”

“Aye. ’Tis a business matter.”

“The shipment of barley to the States also went out on Tuesday. Mr. MacDonald brought seventy bales of kelp yesterday and a shipment of tobacco from Virginia came in as well.” Kingsley turned the ledger around for Annie. “I recorded everything so you will not have to bother.”

“Thank ye,” Annie replied. “Ye are a very competent foreman.”

Kingsley smiled. “I always try my best.”

“Aye. So do I,” Annie said and walked around toward the desk. “I will just work on getting the paperwork filed, then.”

“Let me know if you need me,” Kingsley said. “I will be in the warehouse.”

Annie immersed herself in getting things straightened out. Once she finished the filing, she decided to arrange things in a more orderly fashion. She really wanted to show Mr. Haines that she was competent, especially since he’d put such trust in her.

It was lunchtime by the time she finished.

Annie walked over to the ledger on the counter.

Mr. Kingsley had entered the inventory delivered in a neat, precise hand.

But, since she had a bit of time, she wanted to check the counts herself.

After all, Mr. Kingsley had said two sets of eyes were better than one when it came to accounts.

She tucked the ledger under her arm and went into the warehouse.

The workers had gone on lunch break, so all was quiet and still.

She called for Kingsley, but received no answer, nor did she find him in any of the aisles.

He’d probably gone to get something to eat too.

Well, she didn’t need him standing beside her just to check the inventory.

Moving to the shelves stacked with woolens, she began her count.

One hundred bolts. Annie moved on to the kelp next.

The slight scent of dried seaweed made her think of Niall and his ships.

He hadn’t ever mentioned whether he’d worked on one or if he even enjoyed sailing.

Maybe she would ask this evening. The topic should be a neutral one, leaving little room for argument to occur.

And, hopefully, it would keep Niall from bringing up Sunday’s protest. She was going to attend.