Then she turned to level a hard look at him. “When ye have finished your meal, can ye spare a wee bit of time to speak with me?”
Sileas might not look the same, but she was as direct as when she was a lass running wild. Clearly, she wanted to know where she stood with him. Her sharp words reminded him that he would be wise to give himself time before deciding his fate.
“Do ye have no woman to help in the kitchen?” Ian asked, only partly because he wanted to divert her. They had always had one clanswoman or another who needed a home, living with them and helping his mother.
“Some of the men came to ask your da’s advice regarding the selection of a new chieftain,” his mother said. “He urged them to wait for Connor’s return—and Hugh Dubh has been punishing us ever since.”
“When Hugh threatened everyone who worked here,” Sileas said, “we told them to leave.”
“Go along now and talk with Ian,” his mother said, taking the bowls from Sileas. “I’ll clean up.”
As Ian got to his feet, Niall came in through the door. Instead of giving him the sharp edge of her tongue for missing dinner, Sileas’s expression softened when she saw him.
“Niall, can ye join Ian and me?”
Now, why would she be asking Niall to join them?
“Whatever ye need, I’m there,” Niall said, smiling at her as he hung his cap by the door.
“I appreciate it.” Sileas’s voice wavered a bit, as if Niall had done something special that touched her—when all she showed Ian was irritation.
As he followed Sileas up the stairs, the smell of heather filled his nose. He couldn’t help taking in her slim ankles and the sway of her skirts as she climbed the steep steps. Lifting his gaze, he imagined her smooth, rounded bottom beneath the skirts.
She led them into the room that had been his bedchamber growing up. It looked different now, with pretty stones lining the windowsill and dried flowers in a jug on the table. His stomach tightened with the memory of the last time he was in this room—their “wedding” night, when he had spent a long, restless night on the hard floor.
He glanced at his old bed—the bed she slept in now. If he chose, he could sleep here with her every night. He was hard just thinking about it. If he stayed with her, he would build a new bed for them suitable for Knock Castle, with posts and heavy curtains like he had seen in France.
After taking a chair at the table, she gestured for him and Niall to do the same. Niall sat opposite her, as if by habit, leaving Ian to pull up a stool between them, facing the wall.
“I don’t know if ye realize how verra badly injured your da was when we first got him back.” Sileas spoke in a soft voice and fixed her gaze on the table.
“Da didn’t wake for a fortnight,” Niall put in. “ ’Twas a miracle he lived.”
His father wished to God he hadn’t, crippled as he was. In his place, Ian would feel the same.
“Since ye were not here, Niall and I have been making the decisions that needed to be made these last few weeks,” Sileas said, her tone becoming clipped again. “I hope you’ll be satisfied with what we’ve done.”
“What sort of decisions?” Ian asked.
Sileas stood to take down a sheaf of papers from the shelf above the table. “How many cattle to slaughter for the winter, which sheep to sell or trade, that sort of thing.”
What could be more tedious?
Sileas sat down and pushed the stack of papers across the table to him. “Now that you are here, these are your decisions to make.” She paused, then added, “At least until your da is well.”
Ian glanced down. There were figures all down the first page. “What do ye expect me to do with these?”
“Sileas will have to explain it to ye,” Niall said, grinning at her. “She’s been helping da manage our lands and tenants for years. Ye should hear him, always bragging about how clever she is.”
His father? Letting a lass help him and boasting about it? Ian didn’t want to accuse his brother of lying, but, truly, this was hard to fathom.
Ian watched Sileas as she spoke about cattle and crops, listening more to the sound of her voice than her words. He did notice how she repeatedly brought Niall into her recitation. What impressed him as much as her enthusiasm for the tedious details was how she recognized his brother’s need to be relied upon as a man.
His father certainly showed no concern for Niall’s pride. Remembering his father’s harshness toward Niall, Ian felt a rush of warmth toward Sileas for her kindness to his brother. He would have to ask her why his da was so angry with Niall.
With his mind on Niall and his father, he didn’t realize she was finished going over the accounts until she was on her feet.
“I must go now,” she said, smoothing her skirts, “or the clothes will never be washed and you’ll have no supper.”
Without thinking, Ian said, “Isn’t running the household my mother’s responsibility?” This brought a second question to mind that had been nagging him. Gesturing to the sheaf of papers before him, he said, “Why was she not the one to make these decisions in da’s place?”
“Do ye think I took it from her?” Sileas asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Is that what ye think?”
The hurt in Sileas’s eyes cut him to the quick.
“I did not mean—,” he started to say, but she cut him off.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, though clearly it did. “You’ll be taking over the task now, so I’ll leave ye to
