Arran shrugged out of his coat and dropped it onto a chair. Margot was right behind him, picking it up and dusting it off with her hand. He looked curiously at her.

“I should not like it to appear unkempt.” She suddenly smiled. “I rode down to the cove today,” she said lightly as she carefully folded his coat.

Arran furtively looked around the room again. What the devil was she hiding? “Why?” he asked as casually as he might.

“To take the air.” She leaned back against the chest of drawers, her arms crossed over the folded coat to hold it against her body. He studied her in that casual pose. Margot smiled sweetly.

He glanced at the coat. “Mrs. Abernathy will want to give that a good cleaning.”

“Well, then, I will put it away until she returns.”

“Very well.” He moved to the chest to open one of the drawers for her, but as he reached around her, Margot said, “Actually, it should hang, shouldn’t it? To air it out.” She suddenly let the folds of the coat drop.

But she’d just folded it.

She wrinkled her nose at his look of confusion and said, “It smells of dirt.” She whirled about and walked into his dressing room. He heard her within, hanging the coat. She returned, strolling into the room with her hands at her back.

Arran stood where he was, studying her. “You were never interested in riding or tidying things, aye? What other things have you a sudden desire to do?”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I asked.”

Pink was slowly settling into her cheeks. “Nothing.”

Diah, she was a horrible liar. “Nothing,” he repeated dubiously as he walked into his dressing room.

He picked up a fresh coat and returned to the main chamber. His wife was leaning against the chest again, and now she was studying a fingernail. “Your friends are still here,” he said.

She looked up, her expression almost hopeful. “My friends?”

“The two fops who saw you here. How long will they be our guests, then? Or do they wait for you?”

The hopefulness bled from her face. “For me? No.” She shook her head. “Frankly, I don’t know why they’ve remained. I hardly need an escort now that I have been safely delivered to Balhaire. My father is overly cautious.”

One corner of Arran’s mouth tipped up in a wry smile. “Is he? I never thought him so. In fact, he seemed a wee bit incautious to me, making deals with Scots and God knows who else.” He looked at her pointedly. “Is that no’ so?”

She shrugged. “I really wouldn’t know. My father is not in the habit of informing me whom he deals with. Quite the opposite, really. Unless, of course, he insists I marry one of them.” She arched a brow.