Page 5

J ocelyn was lying.

If those bruises were the result of running into a door, then Gunn was king. He was a boxer. He kenned what bruises caused by angry fists looked like.

For her to get those bruises as bad as they were, she would have had to run into the door repeatedly. There wasn’t just one bruise. There were multiple. Almost healed, so some time had passed since the initial beating.

And a beating is exactly what had happened. He’d bet his title on it.

But it appeared the lass didn’t want to tell him of the specifics, so he’d let it go.

For now.

“Well, it appears that door held some anger toward ye.” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

Her soft laugh filled his study, cutting through the tension.

“What is it ye wanted to speak to me about?” he asked, figuring it was better to steer conversation away from what she was uncomfortable speaking about.

“Ah, yes.” She straightened in the chair, her tone growing serious. “I would like to settle in Kincardine and wanted to inquire if you had any open positions.”

Gunn blew out an exasperated breath, pushing his hand through his hair.

Out of all the questions that he thought would pop out of her mouth, that wasn’t one of them.

It was apparent that she needed money, but he was on the verge of losing his inn and pub.

He’d already let staff go. He certainly didn’t have the resources to hire someone new.

The pleading in her eyes nearly broke him.

“Why Kincardine?”

“Pardon?” She seemed surprised at his question.

“Kincardine. Why here? ’Tis no’ like we are a common stop on the way to other cities. We’re just a small town.”

Jocelyn worried her bottom lip so hard that Gunn was sure it would bleed at any moment.

He also found himself thinking how much he wanted nibble on it.

“It’s a lovely town,” she finally said, but offered naught further.

“’Tis,” he agreed, nodding. There was no doubt about that. Just inland a ways from the east coast, the sea was close enough that if the wind blew just right, one could smell the brine in the air. “But ye still didna answer my question, lass.”

Her eyes darted around the room, though what she was searching for, he hadn’t any clue.

“I didn’t have aught to keep me in England any longer.

I’ve always heard about the rugged beauty of Scotland, and I decided to see for myself.

” She sighed, jutting her chin out. “The rumors were true, by the way,” she added, leaning toward him with a smile.

She was trying to win him over.

It might be working.

“What skills do ye have?” The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He closed his eyes, pressing his lips into a thin line. Christ. What was he doing?

Her whole demeanor brightened at his question.

“Well, until I tasted your cook’s divine meals, I thought I could cook fairly well.” She chuckled. “So, I will not be offering my cooking skills to you. However, I can clean, though you have Flora, and she appears to be more than capable. Maybe I can assist her. But I can also bookkeep.”

He raised an eyebrow at that last part. “You bookkeep? As in accounts? Ledgers?”

She nodded. “Yes. It’s a skill taught to me by father.”

“Your father?”

“Yes. Lord Bixby. Oh.” She clamped her hand over her mouth, and he got the feeling she had said more than she intended.

Feigning disinterest in the name, he made a mental note to investigate the name later. “’Tis uncommon for fathers to teach their daughters bookkeeping.”

“True, but he wanted me to be self-aware when it came to my future assets.” She let out a cynical laugh. “I will say that neither of us had foreseen my current plight. As you can tell, I have no assets to keep books over. But I am very knowledgeable when it comes to such things.”

Gunn thought about the current state of his books. The money he was losing as if he was running it through a sieve. Mayhap, he could have her review the ledgers from when he was away and identify where things started to go wrong.

“I canna offer ye much. A pound a month, a room, and your meals.”

Her eyes widened. “That is more than generous.”

“We have a deal?”

She jumped up from her chair, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “Yes, yes. Thank you.”

“Dinna thank me yet. I’ve a specific job for ye that may have ye running for the door.”

She shook her head. “I doubt that. When shall I start?”

He appreciated her eagerness, but he needed time to gather the ledgers.

“On the morrow?”

“Yes. That is perfect. Where shall I report?”

“Here, after ye break your fast.”

“I will be here.” She moved to leave, but he stopped her for one last question.

“Jocelyn?”

She spun and looked at him. “Yes?”

“Is your last name also Bixby?”

She shook her head. “It’s Townsend.” With that she rushed from the room.

He blew out a breath, and sat staring at the ceiling, his hands cradling his head.

What in the hell was he doing? Straightening, he reached into his desk drawer and withdrew a piece of parchment, ink, and a quill.

He penned a letter to his friend, sharing his concerns, and asking him to look into the matter.

She didn’t share the same name as her father. There could be many different reasons why. He may not be her real father. Which in that case, it was very kind of him to take on Jocelyn as his own. Or she could be married. Widowed.

Malcolm could find out those things easily, he was certain. He had served under Wellington and done reconnaissance work for the effort. He’d even uncovered a traitor that had been selling secrets to the enemy.

Gunn remembered they were actually due to meet in a few days. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to clear his head. How had he forgotten that? He would ask his good friend for his assistance in the matter when they met.

If her father was indeed a lord, why would she come to Scotland? Was he cruel? And how did she not have any money?

More so, why would she want to work? Gunn could easily name off a handful of young women that he kenned and were daughters of titled men. Work was the last thing on their minds. They were too busy trying to find a suitable husband.

Certainly, Malcolm would find out.

So many questions swirled around his head about the circumstances of her mysterious appearance.

‘I am no maiden, sir.’

Her words kept playing over and over in his head. Had she been compromised in some way? He didn’t believe so. She wasn’t broken. She had a strong spirit. Defeated? Aye, that was a better descriptor when it came to the bonny woman.

Ugh, he pushed his hands through his short hair. He would drive himself daft thinking about all the possibilities.

He slipped the letter that he’d written into the top drawer of his desk. He would see Malcolm faster than they could exchange correspondence, so there was no need to make sure Flora got it to a carrier.

With that settled, he started the arduous task of digging out all the ledgers he wanted Jocelyn to review. There were several. As they started to pile up on his desk, he felt bad for what he was going to task Jocelyn with.

If she was as proficient as she said, then mayhap she could make heads or tails out of the mess his business was. It was a task that he should have tackled on his own, but with trying to keep everything afloat, he just hadn’t had the time.

Pouring himself a whisky, he took a long pull, emptying the glass. He swallowed with a hiss and refilled his glass.

It had been some time since all of his friends had gotten together. Now that they were all married and most of them either with wee ones or bairns on the way, it was harder for all of them to gather. This situation had him missing them.

Mayhap he should send word and invite them all down to Leyson Castle. They could bring their wives and children.

Mind made up, he retrieved his inkwell and parchment. Thirty minutes later, he had his invitations ready to send. He’d hand them to Flora to send out when he saw her later.

*

Jocelyn stared at the stacks of ledgers piled high on the desk in front of her. Gunn had tasked her to review them to see if she could identify issues that might explain some financial issues the inn and pub had been having. He hadn’t explained much more than that and she didn’t question him on it.

“Well,” she said into the empty room. “I might as well get into it.”

Gunn had kindly set up a workspace for her in a room that looked like it was used for storage. Trunks and crates were stacked against one wall, but she couldn’t tell what they held. Some were nailed shut and others held items wrapped in canvas.

She had fought a wave of disappointment when she’d learned that she wouldn’t be working side by side with the laird.

What was she thinking? It was silly, really.

Why would she be working with him? They hardly knew each other, and he had already made remarks about them being seen together with no chaperone in sight.

She supposed it would bother her if she knew anyone here.

But she didn’t. She’d heard of the shunning young ladies would be subjected to when the gossip columns wrote about the different compromising scenarios they would find themselves in.

She herself had never been the topic of conversation in any of those columns.

She’d married Victor without even being introduced into society.

A marriage arranged in a deal between her and Victor’s parents. They went through a courtship where Victor presented himself as charming. He had arrived at her doorstep each morning bearing some sort of gift. Flowers. Chocolates. Even jewelry.

She’d been thoroughly fooled. As well as the other girls and women in the city. They oohed and aahed about how lucky she was. If they only knew.

The gifts stopped as soon as they married. And the jewelry he had previously given her, he gathered it all and returned it to the jeweler to get his coin back.

She focused on the ledgers. She didn’t need to think about Victor anymore. She’d finally escaped. Lucky for her she just happened to find herself in the company of a very handsome laird. And a kind one.

He also looked like he could crush Victor with a single punch. She couldn’t help the smile that played on her lips at the thought.

She sat down at the small wooden desk Gunn had set up for her to work. She settled in but stood up again. If she was to do a thorough job, then she would need to review the ledgers in chronological order. That made the most sense.

Looking at the dates, she organized them from oldest to newest and settled into her seat once again. Pulling down the first ledger from the pile, she opened it to the first page. It was dated September 1810.

Not exactly sure what she was looking for, she scanned the entries, hoping that something would stand out.

A pattern. An odd entry. It appeared before the laird left to fight in the war the Thistle & Pig was a thriving and fruitful business.

He employed a full staff, including a manager responsible for the pub.

The only other person she’d seen since she’d arrived, besides the laird, was Flora.

And of course, there was the cook, whom she hadn’t seen, but was obviously there.

She wondered where all the staff was now. There was no manager working at the pub when she entered the door the other day.

Reading through the number of liquors that the pub purchased was impressive. She was no expert when it came to such things, but many orders were put through. With so many bottles bought, he had to have the patrons to match. Continuing her review, she read line after line of entries.

Jocelyn became so engrossed in her work that she didn’t hear anyone approach and jumped at the sharp knock on the open door frame.

With a little yelp, she jumped and looked up to see Gunn leaning against the door, looking at her curiously.

His arms were crossed and the seams of his gray shirt strained from his muscles.

Unlike her, gray looked positively dashing on him.

He possessed the widest shoulders she’d ever seen in her life.

Black trousers hugged his thighs in the most wicked of ways and she had to quickly look away before he caught her gawking.

Swallowing hard, her mouth was suddenly dry.

“Do you need anything?” she asked, wondering why he was standing there.

He pushed off the wall and approached her desk. His massive size filled the small space. “’Tis been some hours since ye started. I wanted to see how ye fared and inquire if ye were hungry.

Had it really already been hours? It seemed like she had just started, but numbers were of great interest to her. She became consumed by them and lost all sense of time. Apparently, that’s what had happened here.

She straightened, her back screaming in protest. Stiffly, she tried to stretch out the aches of being hunched over the desk for such an extended amount of time.

Gunn narrowed his eyes. “Mayhap ye have had enough for one day. Why dinna ye join me for tea and sandwiches and ye can tell me all about what ye’ve uncovered so far.”

She rubbed an ache in her neck, trying to ease the tension. “What time is it?”

“’Tis after three.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? The day has seemed to have disappeared on me.”

He smiled, the gesture softening the hard planes of his face.

“It seems so. I’ve had Cook prepare us a light meal to hold us o’er until supper. It should be waiting for us in the dining room.”

Standing, she straightened her skirts. “Thank you. It is very thoughtful of you to pay such attention. You needn’t worry, however. I would have realized soon enough.”

He lifted a brow, a smirk dancing on his lips. “I dinna think e’en ye believe that wee fib that just slipped out of your mouth. Come on. Ye must be ravenous.”

Just as he finished speaking her stomach growled loudly, the noise amplified in the small space.

“See.” He dipped his head in her direction. “Your belly is giving ye away.” He chuckled and spun on his heel, heading down the hall to the dining room she assumed.

Hurrying, she caught up to him. His long strides meant she had to take two steps to his every one to have any semblance of keeping pace with him.

Once they were settled at a table in the dining room, cups of steaming tea were poured, and a servant brought over a tiered tray filled with finger sandwiches.

Jocelyn’s stomach rumbled again.

“It appears I saved ye just in time. If I’d waited any longer ye surely would have wilted away at your desk. I canna be blamed for working ye to death. I willna have it.” His voice was light, welcoming, and dare she say, held an undertone of flirting.