Page 9 of Glasgow Rogue

Annie glanced sideways at Niall for at least the fifth time in their walk back to the boardinghouse.

She had fully expected him to be tossing critical remarks about her working, but instead he had remained stonily silent.

Even his face looked like it was carved from granite.

His mouth was set, his jaw jutted forward, and his eyes looked like flint. She sighed.

“Ye might as well come out with it.”

“Come out with what?”

It was amazing that his lips hardly moved with the question. Annie was tempted to look around to see if someone else had uttered the words. “Ye ken what.”

“I ken nothing.”

Annie stopped, her hands on her hips. “Now ye are being stubborn, to boot.”

Niall halted as well. “’Tis a trait we share.”

“’Tis nae the point,” Annie replied. “Come out with what ye have to say.”

“Nae.” He started walking again.

Annie caught up with him. “Aye.”

He stared stoically ahead. “What would ye have me say, lass? Ye ken I doona think it good that ye are working in a man’s environment with nae protection.”

“I have a right to have a job!” To her frustration, Niall didn’t answer, only picked up his pace. Annie glared at his back. Did he have to walk so fast? “Ye might be proud of me for landing the position.”

That stopped him. He turned, a quizzical expression on his face. “This has nae to do with being proud of ye. ’Tis your safety I am concerned with.”

Annie shook her head. “We have been over this protection idea before. Ye already insist on escorting me to and from the place. What harm can come to me in a warehouse full of working men?”

One black brow went up. “Ye are nae that na?ve, are ye?”

Annie felt her face flush, partly from the insinuation and partly from anger.

If only Niall knew how very much aware she was of allowing herself to be in a position where a man could take advantage.

That was not going to happen again. “I am nae a nitwit nor am I planning to loiter in the dark corners of the warehouse like some doxy.”

Niall blinked. “Now ye have given me another concern for my list.”

“Your list?” Annie narrowed her eyes. “I should have kenned. ’Tis nae like ye to be so compliant. Ye’ve been thinking up reasons for me nae to take this job.”

He frowned. “I doona need to think up reasons. They all stand out, clear as words on paper.”

She scowled. “Then read this imaginary paper to me since I fail to see it.”

Niall folded his arms across his chest, which made him seem bigger and more imposing. Annie was sure he did such a thing on purpose and drew herself up to her full height, crossing her arms too. “Well?”

He glanced down at her stance and a corner of his mouth quirked. He relaxed his arms and then began ticking reasons off on his fingers.

“One. Ye and Bridget were accosted just weeks ago coming out of a club meeting—”

“That was because—”

“Two,” Niall continued, “there have been trade strikes all over Glasgow the last year. The weavers, in particular, are still angry with their lot.”

“That doesnae have to do with me.”

“Nae? Your club has marched past their shops with signs—”

“Only to make a point.”

“Three,” Niall said, quitting the argument. “Warehouse workers are like dock hands. They are nae used to dealing politely with ladies—”

“I will earn their respect.”

“They will probably nae think ye a lady at all. Have ye thought of that?”

Annie lifted her chin. “If I treat them fairly, they will. I can be polite and civil.”

Niall shook his head and went on. “I observed the men this morning when I went into the warehouse. Ye will nae be able to control them with polite, civil speech.”

“John Kingsley promised me I will nae have trouble with the men.”

Niall’s eyes turned steely-gray. “Is he going to be in charge, then?”

“Nae!” Annie shot back. “I am the manager. Mr. Haines made that quite clear today. He wants me to personally count the inventory and sign off on each shipment and log it into the ledgers as well. Mr. Kingsley will only be in charge of directing the men to load the boxes and barrels.”

“I doona like ye being out in the warehouse at all,” Niall replied. “Can ye nae just stay in the office and keep up with the numbers?”

Annie shook her head. “If I am to sign off on something, I need to be responsible for it. That’s one of Mr. Haines’ policies.”

“I doona like it.”

“Ye have made that clear.” Annie huffed a breath and then put a hand on Niall’s arm. “’Tis nae that I doona appreciate your concern. I just doona need that kind of protection. Truly.”

Niall looked down to where her hand rested and she quickly removed it before he thought she was trying to use some kind of feminine wile on him.

She felt her cheeks warm again, knowing that was a lie.

She’d removed her hand because she’d felt his hard muscle flex beneath it.

For just a fleeting moment, he had seemed like a knight of auld.

She certainly didn’t need to indulge in that kind of idiotic thought.

Niall muttered something in Gaelic under his breath and started walking again. She wished she understood the language.

****

The first person—and the last one Niall wanted to see—the next morning when he entered the warehouse office with Annie was John Kingsley.

The man was standing across the room, studying the plantation picture on the wall.

He reminded Niall more of a bloody Viking this morning than he had the day before.

Niall’s own Nordic blood began to stir. Enemy.

Niall shook his head. Where had that thought come from?

Kingsley turned as they closed the door behind them. His glance raked over Niall. “I see you’ve decided to dress in civilized fashion today.”

Niall managed to keep from clenching both fists. The only reason he’d worn breeches and boots was because he was going to be at the dock, taking care of the kelp shipment coming in on the Sea Lady. “I am nae without my weapons though.”

The other man’s gaze traveled to the musket at Niall’s hip and then down to the knife handles protruding from his boots. “One never knows when a battle may erupt on the streets of Glasgow.”

It was meant as a taunt, but Niall chose to ignore the tone. “Ye speak more truth than ye ken.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Annie said. “I hope ye are nae thinking of starting something.”

Niall cocked an eyebrow at her. “Where?”

She grimaced. “Anywhere. Doona start trouble.”

He heard the warning tone in her voice and shrugged. “Only if trouble finds me, lass.”

Annie looked heavenward. “Why do I think that would be easy to do?”

Niall grinned. “I like to keep my skills sharpened just like my blades.”

Annie opened her mouth, then snapped it shut, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

The unexpected blush made something else stir in Niall.

He hadn’t meant the remark as an innuendo, but had she perceived it like that?

If she had, then her reaction could mean the little vixen might be a wee bit more interested in him than her prickly behavior let on.

It was an interesting idea.

Niall became aware that Kingsley was watching them. While it was tempting to push the conversation a bit further just to warn the man off, Niall didn’t want to embarrass Annie.

“I need to get to the marine office. I will come to collect ye this afternoon,” he said and then smiled. “I will look forward to the moment.” Taking her hand, he brushed a kiss across her knuckles and heard her sharp intake of breath. When he looked up, she was staring at him with widened eyes.

He managed to keep from grinning as he turned and left.

****

Although it had been the merest touch of his lips, Annie’s hand tingled from the effect.

What in the world had made Niall do that?

She couldn’t remember him ever acting courtly before.

He sometimes gave her high-sounding compliments that she knew better than to take seriously, but most of the time he raised her ire by chiding her about one thing to another.

He certainly never said he’d look forward to seeing her again.

He’d never kissed her. Her hand. He’d never kissed her hand before. Why…

John Kingsley coughed and suddenly Annie knew why Niall had acted as he did.

Like a stag protecting his doe, Niall was staking his territory, warning John to keep his distance.

Not that it was warranted. She was simply going to be working with the man during the day with plenty of people around.

It was typical of Niall to assume he knew what was best for her.

It probably had something to do with Highland men expecting their women to follow their orders.

Bridget had even mentioned it once. Annie shook her head in disgust. She wasn’t going to put up with anyone ordering her about.

Annie walked toward the picture and smiled at John. “Do ye suppose Mr. Haines kens the owner of such a place?”

Kingsley gave her a thoughtful look before turning his attention back to the painting. “The plantation is Dogwood Lane near Jamestown. I believe Mr. Haines’ father had a stake in it.”

“Really?” Annie studied the painting with renewed interest. Medium-sized trees, covered with so many white flowers that they looked snow-laden, lined either side of a long, straight gravel drive.

At the far end the lane circled around a flower garden awash in brilliant red, yellow, and blue blooms. Behind that stood a large, three-story rectangular white house with green shutters.

Porticoes graced the top floor along with a belvedere crowning the roof.

Stone pillars supported an open-air porch that ran the length of the house.

Annie could imagine sitting in a rocking chair on that porch enjoying soft, warm breezes.

“It’s verra pretty,” she said. “Does Mr. Haines still own part of it?”

“Doubtful. When America declared her independence, most of the British not living there forfeited ownership to the lands.”

“It seems like such a loss,” Annie said.