Which was why she had come here today, she realized. There was nothing to fear in that child. He had Ween vulnerable to pain and had not yet formed the tough determination of the Ruel of Kasanpore. She needed to remember Ruel was very human and could be vanquished. She needed to reassure herself there was nothing to fear.
Not that she was really afraid, she thought quickly. She had merely been shocked by the news Ruel was coming. She could not still love him. She had worked hard to extinguish any lingering embers of that passion she had thought would last forever. Surely her discomposure was a natural reaction when she had not seen Ruel since that last intimidating glimpse at the dock.
How did she know he still felt any bitterness toward her? The separation had made them strangers. He could have changed, softened over the years. He would be eager to get back to his Cinnidar and, if she was fortunate, she might not even see him during his stay at Glenclaren. He might not seek her out.
She closed her eyes and muttered a prayer.
Dear God, let him not seek her out.
"Merciful heavens, this place smells." Margaret wrinkled her nose as she stepped inside the door of Kartauk's workroom. "Dung has a better odor than that foul mixture you use to fire your furnace."
Kartauk grinned at her over his shoulder. "That's because dung is a primary ingredient. It's cheap fuel." He swung open the door of the furnace and slid a tray containing a clay form into the oven. "Which should please your miserly soul, madam."
"Well, this odor does not please me." She strode forward to stand before him. "So I will have my say and be gone."
"Not if you wish me to listen. I must position this tray just right in the furnace." He jerked his head toward the high stool across the room. "Sit down."
"But I have no time to—" She stopped as she realized, as usual, he was paying no attention to her. He never did when absorbed in his blasted work. She sat down on the stool he had indicated and hooked her heels on the rungs. She had been right to come. She was already experiencing an infinitesimal easing of tension she settled into the familiar pattern they had woven between them. "You have no comfort here. You should spare a day from your dabbles to fashion a chair or two."
"It's good enough for me."
"A blanket on a haystack would be good enough for you. What about Li Sung?"
"He only sleeps here now that the mill is running." He cast her a glance. "You're the only one who complains of lack of comfort. If it offends you, why don't you bring over some of your fine furnishings from the castle?"
"So that you can ruin them with your carelessness?"
"I'm not careless about the things that are important to me."
She could not argue with him on that score. In all the details pertaining to his work he was fanatically scrupulous and painstaking. She had watched him spend two hours positioning one of his figures in the furnace. "It would be better for all of us if something besides those dratted dabbles mattered to you."
He did not glance up. "Have you come to give me a tonguelashing? What transgression have I committed now?"
"If you'd stop and pay attention for a moment, I would tell you," she said tartly.
"Presently. You may get yourself a cup of coffee if you like."
"And curdle my belly with your vile brew?" She got down from the stool and moved toward the stove. "I suppose I have no choice, if you persist in keeping me waiting."
"No choice at all."
She poured coffee into a cracked but spotlessly clean cup. She had discovered it was one of Kartauk's idiosyncracies that, though shambles might exist around him, everything he touched or used must be gleaming with cleanliness. She stared curiously at the clay bust on the worktable by the furnace; it was in the first stages, the features unrecognizable. "What are you working on this time?"
"Li Sung. I started it this morning."
She strolled back to her stool and sat down again. "I would have thought you'd have done him before this."
"Not while he could see me working on it. There's too much pain in Li Sung. Pain and pride. He believes no one can see his torment and it would disturb him to know that is false." He glanced at her. "Sometimes it is best to hide knowledge when it hurts too much."
She met his gaze and saw wisdom, cynicism . . . and understanding. Too much understanding. She pulled her stare away with an effort. "On occasion you actually display good sound Christian feelings. I wish you'd be as sensitive toward females."
He went still. "You have never asked me for sensitivity before. I didn't think you required it."
"I don't," she said quickly. "I was not speaking of myself."
He relaxed. "Thank God. For a moment I thought I had read you wrong. What a humiliation that would have been."
"Ellen MacTavish."
He smiled. "A lusty maid. She brought me great pleasure."
"More than you brought her. She came running to me wailing you had stolen her virginity."
His smile faded. "Not true. A man has his needs, but I have no traffic with women who lack experience in the joust. Jock assured me she was—"
"Jock? Now you have Ian's servants procuring your harlots?"
"A man has his needs," Kartauk repeated. He sat down on the stool before the worktable. "Is Ellen MacTavish to be the subject of your harping?"
"And Deidre Cameron and Martha Belmar."
"Good God, Scottish women are garrulous. They all came to you?"
"I'm the laird's wife. It's the custom for the women of the glen to come to the castle if there's trouble."
"I brought them pleasure, not trouble, and I made no promise of marriage to any woman. Did they say I had?"
"No." Margaret frowned in distaste. "They were mewing like cats in heat because you had not come back to them."
Kartauk's laughter boomed out. "It would not have been fair." He tapped his massive chest with his fist. "To be struck once by the divine lightning is a blessing, more than that would have made them forever dissatisfied with other men."
She closed her eyes. "Sweet Mary, what an arrogant coxcomb you are. I do not know how I can bear to be in the same room with you."
"Because you need me."
"Need?" Her lids flew open. "I don't need anyone. Certainly not an impudent braggart who believes all women are useless if not in bed or posing for one of your infernal statues."
"Not totally useless. I tolerate you who refuse to pose for me and give me neither pleasure nor—"
"Tolerate me." She stood up, glaring at him. "It's / who tolerate you. You occupy this stable, which we now need for horses and livestock, and give neither aid nor—"
"You're right."
"What?"
He smiled gently. "I'm a selfish scoundrel who causes you nothing but grief."
"You certainly are." She gazed at him suspiciously. "Why are you being so agreeable?"
"Perhaps I am lonely and do not wish you to leave. Sit down and finish your coffee."
"You, lonely?" She slowly sat back down on the stool. "You're never lonely."
"How do you know?" He went to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. "A man's needs are sometimes not only of the body. Li Sung is not the only one who does not choose to reveal his weaknesses. There are times when we all do things to bring about a desired result without baring our souls." He resumed his seat at the worktable. "Perhaps I struck those women with my lightning because I knew it would bring you to me.