The Heart Queen by PATRICIA POTTER Page B

cousin years ago. Had he changed so much? Or did wealth truly corrupt?
    “I do not think so,” she said.
    “And the first thing you would do?”
    “Get some seed to the tenants. And some food.”
    “Where are the estate books?”
    “Reginald has them. He has refused to hand them over to me. He expected to be appointed guardian.”
    His face hardened. “After I see him, we will go over them together.”
    “You dinna answer my question.”
    “About running Lochaene? It would not be easy, my lady. Men are no‘ so ready to take orders from a lass.”
    She glared at him. “My husband has nearly destroyed Lochaene. I could not do worse.”
    “The point isn’t not doing worse. It is doing far better.”
    She bit her lower lip. He sounded so sure of himself. Confident. Ruthless. She still did not know what he wanted. There had to be something, a missing piece of a puzzle.
    His gaze bored into her. And found her wanting? Did it even matter?
    “You have never married, my lord?”
    His lips firmed into a tight line and he was silent for a moment. “Nay. I had naught to offer until my cousin ... died last year.” A mask smoothed over his face, and he turned back to the fire. “I will require a room, madam. And food. It has been a long journey. We can talk again after I see the books.”
    Janet lifted her chin. She had just been dismissed in her own home. She had her answer about assuming control.
    “The children have my late husband’s room. I wanted them close to me,” she said. “I would not like to see them moved.”
    “And I would not wish to see them move. I am used to plain surroundings, my lady. I do not require much. Any room will be sufficient. A bed and a table. And some food. We can discuss the estate on the morrow.”
    “I will have a room prepared,” she said coolly, but she did not feel cool. He had turned away from the fireplace and approached her, and she saw the shadows in his eyes. As he came closer, heat rose in her. An almost palpable tension stretched between them and she wanted to reach out, to smooth the lines around his eyes. She did not think they came from laughter.
    Remember what happened before. You thought he wanted you then.
    Her stomach quivered. She stiffened her back and took a step backward, her hand reaching behind her for the door.
    Then, to her shame, she turned and ran. Escaped from him. From her own thunderous feelings.

Chapter Six

    Neil spent a most unpleasant hour with Reginald, who still protested the guardianship and presenting the books to Neil. The man had been drinking and was belligerent. It was not until Neil threatened to ask Cumberland for some soldiers that Reginald grudgingly handed over the books.
    When Neil emerged from the study, a servant—a young woman—showed him to a room.
    The mistress, she said, was with the children.
    While not luxurious, the room was clean and, as he requested, had a table and chair as well as a large bed and a wardrobe. A decanter and glasses were on the table, and he poured himself a glass. Port. Not particularly good port, but he welcomed its warmth as he sprawled in the chair and opened the large ledger book.
    Neil had kept the books for Braemoor even before assuming the title. He was scrupulous about them. He looked at Lochaene’s books and even his first cursory glance found trouble. There had been no entries for several months. What rents were mentioned were obviously overly high for this unfertile ground.
    Long overdue bills were stuffed between the pages of the book.
    He would have to do an inventory, determine what could be sold to raise enough coin to buy seed. Either seed or sheep. He had no idea from the state of the books how many sheep or cattle Lochaene claimed.
    It was perfectly evident that he would have to loan funds to the estate to give it any chance of succeeding. He wondered how he could do that without Janet’s knowledge. She would want to refuse. She’d made it clear she’d wanted nothing from him except