Indifferent to her, was he? It was time to see about that.
* * *
CHAPTER 10
"well, that's it, then—they're off," hatchard muttered, watching the men depart. He finger-combed his short red beard thoughtfully. He stood with Kaley on the front steps of Caithness, watching three horses fade into swirls of dust down the winding road.
"Why did they have to choose Durrkesh?" Kaley asked irritably. "If they wanted to go catting about, they could very well have gone to the village right here." She waved at the small town clustered protectively near the walls of Caithness that spilled into the valley beyond.
Hatchard shot her a caustic glance. "Although this may come as a grave shock to your… shall we say… accommodating nature, not everyone thinks about catting all the time, Missus Twillow."
"Don't be 'Missus Twillowing' me, Remmy," she snapped. "I'll not be believing you've lived nearly forty years without doing a bit of catting yourself. But I must say, I find it appalling that they're off catting when they were brought here for Jillian."
"If you'd listen for a change, Kaley, you might hear what I've been telling you. They went to Durrkesh because Ramsay suggested they go—not for catting, but to acquire wares that can only be purchased in the city. You told me we've run short of peppercorns and cinnamon, and you won't be finding those wares here." He gestured to the village and allowed a significant pause to pass before adding, "I also heard one might find saffron at the city fair this year."
"Saffron! Bless the saints, we haven't had saffron since last spring."
"You've kept me perennially aware of the fact," Hatchard said wryly.
"One does what one can to aid an old man's memory." Kaley sniffed. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but don't you usually send your men for the wares?"
"Seeing how Quinn was so avid to buy an elegant gift for Jillian, I certainly wasn't about to stop him. Grimm, I believe, went with them simply to avoid getting stuck alone with the lass," Hatchard added dryly.
Kaley's eyes sparkled, and she clapped her hands together. "A gift for Jillian. So it's to be Jillian de Moncreiffe, is it? A fine name for a fine lass, I must say. And that would keep her nearby in the Lowlands."
Hatchard returned his pensive gaze to the ribbon of road wending through the valley. He watched the last rider disappear around a bend and clucked his tongue. "I wouldn't be so certain, Kaley," he murmured.
"Whatever is that cryptic remark supposed to mean?" Kaley frowned.
"Just that in my estimation the lass has never had eyes for anyone but Grimm."
"Grimm Roderick is the worst possible man for her!" Kaley exclaimed.
Hatchard turned a curious gaze on the voluptuous maid. "Now, why would you say that?"
Kaley's hand flew to her throat, and she fanned herself. "There are men women desire and there are men women marry. Roderick is not the kind of man a woman marries."
"Why not?" Hatchard asked, bewildered.
"He's dangerous," Kaley breathed. "Positively dangerous to the lass."
"You think he might harm her in some way?" Hatchard tensed, prepared to do battle if such was the case.
"Without even meaning to, Remmy." Kaley sighed.
* * * * *
"They've gone where? And for how long did you say?" Jillian's brow puckered with indignation.
"To the city of Durrkesh, milady," Hatchard replied. "I should suppose they'll be gone just shy of a sennight."
Jillian smoothed the folds of her gown irritably. "I wore a dress this morning, Kaley—a pretty one," she complained. "I was even going to ride to the village wearing it instead of Da's plaid, and you know how I hate riding in a dress."
"You look lovely, indeed," Kaley assured her.
"I look lovely for whom? All my suitors have abandoned me."
Hatchard cleared his throat gruffly. "There wouldn't have been one in particular you were hoping to impress, would there?"
Jillian turned on him accusingly. "Did my da put you up to spying on me, Hatchard? You're probably sending him weekly reports! Well, boodle, I'll tell you nothing."
Hatchard had the grace to look abashed. "I'm not sending him reports. I was merely concerned for your welfare."
"You can concern yourself with someone else's. I'm old enough and I worry enough for both of us."
"Jillian," Kaley chided, "crabby does not become you. Hatchard is merely expressing his concern."
"I feel like being crabby. Can't I just do that for a change?" Jillian's brow furrowed as she reflected a moment. "Wait a minute," she said pensively. "Durrkesh, is it? They hold a splendid fair this time of year… the last time I went with Mama and Da, we stayed at a perfectly lovely little inn—the Black Boot, wasn't it, Kaley?"