Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Gabriel rolled his shoulders and sighed before pushing through the thick oak door of Dunsmuir Castle later that evening. It had been a long day of managing a circus he never asked for. Finn and his younger cousin, Archie, seemed determined to set what little hope he had of salvaging the distillery on fire.

It survived one fire, somehow. The exact cause had never been determined, though he wondered if his brother might have been involved. Toward the end, Tavish was at best unreliable, and at worst, unpredictable in his grief.

The inn still stood, but that and the distillery would need a lot of work and money to see it profitable. And there just wasn’t time. Gabriel nearly bankrupted himself to see the debts paid off, and that left little else to restore the family legacy.

He must find a way to make it work himself in three months, or they would lose everything.

Three months was scant time, considering where they were in Scotland. Timber and supplies alone would take a few weeks to reach them. And that was only the beginning.

His older brother had insisted Gabriel was far better suited for running the business when they were younger. And Gabriel, the second son, had wished for it. But it was never his birthright, and his brother loved to remind him of that growing up.

It had always been his brother’s way of guarding his connection with their father, a relationship Gabriel only just survived through. Tavish was their father’s favorite, in spite of all his shortcomings.

And Tavish’s boast meant nothing now that Gabriel was left holding on to the remnants of the Dunsmuir estate, shouldering a burden that could bankrupt him, with his brother buried in an unmarked grave.

This was his.

Whatever was left. Whether he wanted it or not.

It was nearly nine in the evening, and Gabriel still had the books to look over.

A scream split the silence filling the dark, cold walls of the castle. He glanced up toward the balcony, his heart racing in his throat. The girls should be in bed.

And no one had lit the candles.

He bounded up the stairs, sprinted down the hallway, completely unprepared for what met him.

Lorna balanced on top of her tall dresser, armed with a sword and shield that had, until recently at least, belonged in the library, and Maisie was striking a flint on the floor and tossing lit sticks into a pitcher of water.

“Ouch,” she muttered as a spark singed her finger.

“Girls!” He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or furious. He would figure that out later.

The girls screamed once more, terrified of being caught. Gabriel rushed forward, plucking Lorna down to avoid her impaling herself as the dresser tipped forward. He braced his back, bearing the brunt of the fall as the wardrobe tumbled on top of him.

Damn it.

He had spent the past year exercising after a shoulder injury. Pain ricocheted around his neck and down his back. There was no time to care for such an injury now. He had boxed several times a week, building his strength back up .

“Lorna, ye crushed Uncle!” Maisie cried from the floor.

“Do ye have any explanation for this?” he asked, biting back the groan as he braced the weight against his back and walked the wardrobe back against the wall.

They would. They always did. Not that it ever made sense.

“I’m fightin’ a dragon, Uncle.”

“Ye could burn down the house,” he scolded Maisie. “Ye never play with fire, especially inside. Ye’re no’ even a foot from bed. That mattress and those blankets would catch in a minute…”

She craned her neck up at him and wagged her finger. “Ahh, but the important thing is, I didna.”

“Aye, right,” he grumbled. “And ye—” He picked Lorna up again by the back of her nightdress, dangling her a few feet off the floor. “That sword and shield is important to our family, no’ something to be trifled with.”

“Then it should be hung on the wall. Dinna see why we canna...”

“Did ye often play with swords with yer father around?”

“Da didna care what we did.”

It showed.

“We found all sorts of trouble.”

He placed Lorna down, grabbed the sword and shield, and confiscated the flint. “It’s time for bed, the both of ye. No’ another peep. Why did I hire a governess if she...”

“If, what?”

Nearly seven hours had passed since he had last heard her voice. He’d be loath to admit how much it piqued his interest. He hated London, but the way the accent washed through her words… Or perhaps it was the beautiful gray of her eyes or the smattering of freckles on her cheeks.

No, he wasn’t interested in flirtation or anything further. There wasn’t time.

“Watch yer charges.”

“You hired me as a governess, not a nursery maid.”

His temper flared, whirling around to face her. Which was his first mistake .

Or perhaps that had been earlier when he led her back into the inn’s kitchen and cooked her eggs. He had never cooked for a woman before. There was something about her standing in the inn, her shoulders slumped back, and her black hair sticking this way and that from the Scottish rain.

“I dinna ken the difference.”

“Governesses see to a charge’s education. A nanny or a nursemaid sees to their upbringing and care.”

Well, damn. Mistake two. How he hated his brother for leaving him all this to untangle.

Miss Bancroft shrugged, stepping around him to tuck the girls into their beds. “It’s been a long day. Time for bed. We’ll attempt civility again in the morning, girls.”

Lorna ran her fingers through her dark-red hair and grinned at the governess. “Ye’re no’ a nurse. Guess ye’ll need to leave.”

The governess brought the quilt up to the girl’s chest and shrugged. “That is for me to decide.”

“‘Cuse me,’’ Maisie said, bouncing on her bed before diving under the covers. “Have ye met us? We canna keep help. No one wants to stay with us.”

“I imagine not if you run and hide away on me as you did today, or placed a toad under their chair at dinner, or covered their mattress with dirt and leaves and left the window open so they had to contend with a very feisty bird. And then there’s the matter of ol’ Stinky Ben.”

“Lasses, did that all happen?” Gabriel asked, both impressed and frustrated at their ingenuity.

“We dinna need a governess,” they said in a perfect echo.

“All girls should have one at some point. There is a lot to learn about the world and your place in it,” Miss Bancroft said.

“Ye’re English. We dinna want to learn from ye.”

“Hmm, well… good night. I will see you both in the morning.”

“To bed,” he snapped, pointing to each of the girls before following Miss Bancroft out into the hallway and closing the door behind him.

“Wait, Miss Bancroft?”

She paused, slowly turning toward him. “Yes? ”

“Can I talk to ye for a moment?”

“That depends. Can you speak? You only grunted earlier at the inn before you told me to find my own way to Dunsmuir Castle and take charge of my pupils.”

“I returned home to discover one of my nieces nearly setting fire to the castle. I would argue that isna takin’ charge.”

She crossed her arms. “I had a bird to contend with.”

“Right, the bird.”

Miss Bancroft lifted a dark eyebrow. In the dim light of the hallway, her pale-ivory skin nearly glowed, giving her a fragile, precious appearance much more fitting to a London ballroom than the Scottish Highlands. She appeared delicate. He blamed it on the rose hue to her cheeks and her lush full lips, including a plump cupid’s bow. He swore he had seen her face before, but that only must be because her face was that of many an Italian master’s muse. The same beautiful face was painted and sculpted all over Italy when he last visited. And now she stood before him, her eyes full of distrust and annoyance… as well as an edge of desperation and fire.

“Follow me. We can discuss a few matters in my office.”

“Do you have time? I wouldn’t want to be a strain on your schedule.”

He scoffed, rubbing his hand over his forehead. He felt the panic rise up in his body and threaten to overcome him. Not now. He couldn’t allow her to see him like that. Miss Bancroft was a stranger, and he meant to keep it that way, no matter how damn beautiful she was.

And she was.

That was the terrible truth of it.

“I deserved that, likely.”

“Certainly,” she said, waving her arm for him to proceed down the hallway.

He tripped, muttering under his breath before she shoved the candle in her hand in his direction. “Someone should light a few. This place is a mausoleum.”

“Feels like it most days, in more ways than one. ”

“I apologize. That was insensitive.”

When he stopped and opened the door to his office, Gabriel gestured for her to enter. Miss Bancroft stopped next to him, tall and confident as she looked a spell at his mouth, then up to his eyes. She was thinking. He could see the thought play over her features, but just as suddenly, it disappeared and she slipped inside, leaving him there in the doorway wishing he knew that private thought. Instead, he was only left with the intoxicating scent of her perfume—honeysuckle and vanilla.

He hadn’t time to organize his office or sort through what was left behind by his brother. But as most of the books were covered in dust, and the room was musty and dark, he guessed Tavish didn’t use the space much. Gabriel remembered his mother had the room locked after his father’s death.

“I hired ye to mind my nieces,” he said, leaving the office door open. He didn’t wish to frighten Miss Bancroft. Though the ire she provoked was extraordinary.

“You did. And I have. Alone today, in fact, without any instruction.”

He sank down in the leather chair and pushed aside the dried inkwell. “I had other business…”

“I remember. So, imagine what it was like for me, sir, to enter this castle and introduce myself to my charges who were less than enthused to meet their governess.”

Mrs. Malcolm was correct. The girls needed a woman in their life. He had written to his sister, Elsie, upon learning of Tavish’s passing, but she had only responded with a short note. He didn’t expect her to come after what had happened between herself and Finn Wallace. She was living with an elderly aunt in Edinburgh.

But this woman, Katherine Bancroft, couldn’t be the answer either. She had a smart mouth on her and was as fiery as little Lorna when she was refused chocolate. Some part of him was interested in the way she challenged him. But again, he hadn’t the time now.

It would be best to find someone who wouldn’t fight him on every decision. Weren’t governesses meant to be meek?

“If you wish to dismiss me, I would like to know why. And I would also like a letter of good recommendation as I have done nothing wrong.”

Maybe she hadn’t, but he had.

Time and again, in fact.

And now he was back in Scotland to face it all, and this new governess was only going to bring about trouble, not the peace his family so desperately needed.

“I’ll agree for ye to stay on temporarily, for two weeks, Miss Bancroft. After that, we’ll speak again about the arrangement and see if it works for us all.”