Ruel looked tough as a tree trunk, brown as the acorns that fell from it, and comely as ever, she thought. "But then, the devil takes care of his own."
He burst out laughing. "I believe I've missed you, Maggie. You always did know me better than Ian."
"I once thought so too, but I've been wondering of late. All this outpouring of generosity toward Ian and Glenclaren has led me to question my judgment."
His laughter faded. "I love Ian, Maggie."
"You have changed. You would never admit to loving anyone when you left here." She gazed at him challengingly. "If you love him, come to Spain with us and make sure Ian doesn't go back to Glenclaren until he's well."
"I can't, dammit. I have to take the next ship back to Cinnidar. The situation there is ... delicate."
"Ian's condition is also delicate."
He frowned. "Cinnidar isn't like Kasanpore. It's an island with sea breezes that cool and temper the heat. Do you think I'd risk giving him a setback?"
Margaret studied him. "No," she said finally. "You wouldn't hurt Ian if you could help it."
He bowed his head mockingly. "I suppose I should thank you for having such touching faith in me."
"I don't want thanks, I want assurances."
"Tell me what you need to know. I've told you Cinnidar's climate is good and I can assure you of so many servants, they'll be stumbling over themselves to help and care for Ian."
"Which may be a detriment instead of an asset. I've spent three years fostering Ian's belief in himself. Housing?"
"A palace. The Savitsar family built a palace overlooking the canyon a long time ago. The place has been deserted for decades, but I set workers to repairing and refurbishing it before I left Cinnidar." He smiled faintly. "You can't fault the accommodations, Maggie."
"We shall see." She shook her head impatiently. "Why are we even talking about this? You'll never persuade him to go."
"Not if he lacks confidence Glenclaren will be properly cared for. Do you have anyone who can meet that requirement?"
"He would trust Jane to—"
"Jane will be going with us," Ruel interrupted. "And so will Li Sung. Think of someone else."
"That's no easy task."
"A decision doesn't have to be made tonight. We have a few days."
"Are you going up to see Ian now?"
He shook his head. "Ian's not stupid. He'll know why I'm here the moment he sees me. I'll let him get a good night's sleep before I launch the attack."
"Then I'll tell Mary to show you to a chamber."
He shook his head. "I'll not stay here. My father would rise from his grave at the thought of me resting within these hallowed halls."
"I would have thought that would be reason for you to stay."
"It's not amusing to steal from a dead man." He smiled without mirth. "Though there was a time when I would have offered my soul for a haven here."
"Where will you go?"
He shrugged. "I'll find a place. I'll be back in the morning to talk to Ian."
"Who will say no."
"The first time," Ruel said. "He'll agree in the end, if you can find someone competent to run Glenclaren."
She frowned. "The vicar might know of someone. I'd suggest Kartauk, but Ian would never trust him to run the estate. He'd fear Kartauk would become absorbed in his work and let the castle burn to the ground."
"Kartauk is coming too. I have need of him."
"You may have trouble making use of Kartauk," she said dryly. "He does not have a pliant nature."
"You've found that out?"
"Kartauk has proved . . . helpful." She glanced away from him. "He amuses Ian."
"And does he amuse you too, Maggie?"
Her gaze flew back to him to find his gaze narrowed intently on her. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing." He shrugged. "I've been away a long time, and I'd forgotten how imbued with virtue you are."
"Virtue?" Her eyes widened in shock. "You thought I—"
"It slipped out," he said impatiently. "Forget it."
"I will not forget it." Anger poured through her. "I love my husband, Ruel. How dare you say—"
"I apologize, dammit. I'll watch my tongue next time."
"You'd do better to watch your foul thoughts." She whirled on her heel and strode toward the door. "And my name is Margaret. I allowed you a certain amount of indulgence when you were a boy, but if you ever call me Maggie again, I shall find a way to punish your impudence."
"Yes, Margaret," he said.
The hint of amusement she detected beneath the meekness in his tone grated abrasively. "I've changed my mind. You've not changed a whit. You're as wild and insufferable as ever."
His amusement instantly vanished. "I need your help to get Ian to Cinnidar. Don't let your anger at me hurt him."
"Do you think I'd do that?" She drew a deep breath and tried to control her temper. "I'll speak to Ian tonight and try to prepare the way for you."
"That's all I ask."
"I doubt if it will do any good." She opened the door. "You'd best be prepared to give up your plan and take Ian to Spain."
"If I don't get back to Cinnidar soon, there may not be a Cinnidar ... or a Glenclaren." He paused and smiled. "Curious. I wonder why you're so angry with me."
She slammed the door of the study and marched across the foyer toward the staircase.
Ruel had been at Glenclaren only a matter of hours and he was already throwing her into a turmoil with his wicked tongue and wickeder thoughts. Mother of heaven, she had wanted to slap that comely face and—
Why? Ruel was right, she did not easily lose her temper.
It was perfectly reasonable for her to be angry. He had given her insult.
But he had apologized immediately and she had never let Ruel's impudence disturb her before.
She would dismiss the rascal from her mind, she decided firmly. She had better things to do with her energy than let Ruel upset her like this. She must prepare Ian for Ruel's visit tomorrow.
He had known there was nothing for him here.
Ruel sat his horse on the crest of the hill, his gaze fastened on the thatched cottage a few yards away.
The cottage had been deserted since he had left Glenclaren and was probably overrun with rats and cockroaches. He had known when he left the castle tonight he would not be able to sleep here. He certainly felt no sentiment for the place. He had spent more nights curled up in his blanket in the hills than in this hut. After the laird had lost interest in his mother and rejected her claim that Ruel was his son, she had made it clear Ruel was not welcome when she entertained the men of the glen.
Perhaps he had come here to reinforce how fortunate he was to have escaped this place that had brought him only humiliation and tears. Tears? God in heaven, he had shed no tears since he was a boy of seven. He must be becoming maudlin to be recalling that foolish lad.
Why the devil had he even come here?
Jane.
It had been Jane, gazing at him defiantly, wrapped in that damned MacClaren plaid that had set off the chain of memories and brought him here. He had thought he was prepared, but the moment he had caught sight of her he had felt . . . Dear God, what had he felt? Bitterness, lust . . . and possession. It was the latter emotion that he must strive to vanquish. Revenge would rid him of bitterness, the plan he was about to put in place would eventually slake his lust, but to own was also to be owned. Over the years the thought of her had possessed and now obsessed him.