A few years ago, the man before him would have been a boy — certainly too young for courier work. Which meant he was lying about having been to the Old Place before, and that made Liam uneasy. “What business do you have there?”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but it’s none of yours.”
“I’m the Baron of Willowsbrook,” Liam said, his former courtesy turned cold. “So it is my business.”
The young man paled a little. “I’ve a letter for one of the ladies there.”
“Which one?” Why was he pushing? It truly wasn’t any of his business. If the man hadn’t lied in the first place, he might simply have given him directions and let him go.
“Mistress Nuala.”
Liam extended one hand. “I’m going that way. I’ll see it gets delivered.”
The young man paled a little more. “My instructions were to place it in Mistress Nuala’s hand personally. ‘Tisn’t important or anything,” he added hurriedly. “You understand how ladies can be at times about making sure letters reach the right person, although why they make such a fuss is beyond me. My sister is a right fusser about things like that. I happened on a letter a friend of hers had written to her. Hand delivered it was, too, so I thought — Well, I was younger then. But there it was, four pages, sir, filled with discussion about ribbons and the length of sleeves and the different shades of green needed to do some embroidery. Four pages! And they, my sister and her friend, always got right stiff about having their letters delivered properly.”
“Probably because your sister’s friend also had a younger brother,” Liam said coolly. The man was lying with every breath. Oh, he was telling the truth about having a sister, Liam was certain of that, which only made the lie about the letter’s unimportance more damning. Whatever he was delivering to Nuala was something he didn’t want anyone else to know about — or connect him to — and it occurred to Liam that Elinore’s concern about the witches needing his protection might have weight.
“Very well,” Liam said. “I’ll ride with you, since I’m going that way. Follow me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Not happy, but trying not to show it, the young man waited while Arthur saddled Oakdancer. Once Liam was mounted, they rode to the Old Place in silence.
“Breanna!”
Shading her eyes, Breanna looked up at the housekeeper, who was leaning out an upstairs window. “Glynis?”
“You’ve got company coming. Best look sharp.”
Wondering if that was a suggestion that she should change out of the tunic and trousers she’d been working in or simply a warning, Breanna shrugged, then walked to the arch. Liam and Oakdancer were easy enough to recognize, but it took her a moment to place the other man.
When they were a few feet away, the men reined in.
“Good day to you, Mistress,” Liam said.
Had he forgotten her name? Breanna wondered.
It was his quick glance at the other man and the stiff way he held himself, as if ready for a fight — and the question in his eyes, directed straight at her — that told her he wouldn’t give her name to a stranger, and he’d make that stranger’s life a misery if she even hinted there was cause.
In a flash of insight, she realized Liam would react the same way if a stranger approached his little sister, Brooke. This wasn’t about being a baron — although she was sure he’d make use of the power the title gave him. This was about being an older brother.
Not sure how she felt about that — pleasure and confusion danced inside her in equal measures — she turned to the other man, and said, “Cousin Rory?”
The young man sagged in relief. “It’s glad I am to see you, cousin Breanna.”
Breanna narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “Why?”
“Well, there is that,” Rory muttered. “Father sent a letter and things to Nuala, asked me to deliver them personally.”
“Then you can use the kitchen door same as the rest of the family,” Breanna said tartly.
Rory flashed a grin at her, brushed his fingers against the brim of his hat as a salute to Liam, then urged his horse through the arch.
“There’s no point having him go through the front door,” Breanna said, walking toward Liam while he dismounted. “He’d just head straight for the kitchen anyway, wouldn’t remember to stop and wipe his feet, and then he’d have Glynis chasing him with a broom for mucking up her clean floors.”
Liam just stared at her.
“You’ve never been chased by an annoyed woman with a broom,” Breanna decided.
“No,” Liam said faintly, “I’ve never had the pleasure.”
She studied his boots. “Well, if you’re wanting the experience, just walk through the front door and don’t wipe your feet.”
“I’m the Baron of Willowsbrook.”
“From the ankles on up, you’re the Baron of Willowsbrook. From the ankles on down, you’re dirty boots on a clean floor. I’ll give you odds which part of you Glynis will notice.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll stay where I am,” Liam muttered. He was appalled to realize that a tiny part of him wanted to find out if a woman would really whack a baron with a broom because he tracked dirt on her floor.
“So,” Breanna said, wondering where his mind had wandered off to. “Besides giving Rory an unwanted escort, what brings you here?”
“Does he really have a sister who writes long letters about ribbons and the length of sleeves?”
She studied him more carefully. He didn’t look like the stallion had tossed him, but she wasn’t sure something hadn’t addled his brain. “He does have a sister, a year younger than me. I’ve never known her to write a letter about ribbons and sleeves, but if you make the mistake of asking, she can write you a page or two about which kinds of quills can be sharpened to the best point and hold that point the longest to produce the clearest hand when toting up numbers in a ledger.” She shrugged.
“Mother’s mercy,” he said. He started petting Oakdancer’s neck.
“Liam?” Breanna said gently. He really was starting to worry her.
“Yes?”
“You’re here.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” That came out a little sharper than she’d intended, but at least it got his attention focused again.
“Oh. I’m going to Durham tomorrow for a few days, and I . uh . I wondered if there was anything you’d like me to bring back for you.”
She gave him her best wide-eyed sweet look — which probably didn’t look anything like what she’d intended, since all the color slowly drained out of his face. “You mean you’d shop for ribbons and lace if I asked you to?”
That’s mean, Breanna, she scolded herself. If he faints at your feet, you’ve only yourself to blame.
Liam cleared his throat. “I — If that’s what you might be needing.”
He’d do it. He looked miserable right now, and probably wished he’d never offered, but he’d do it.
“Why would you do that?”
“You’re my sister, and —”
Breanna stiffened. “I thought we’d settled that the