Chapter 8
Micah drummed his fingers on the overstuffed arm of the chair, his head propped up in his other hand as he slouched and waited for the audience that was to come. As soon as the coach had rolled to a halt in front of the house, Howard had been there with firm instruction to wait for his father in his den. His watery eyes were hard and unyielding, disapproval in every line of his straight, slender body as he issued the order. No protest of, “But I’ve only just arrived,” would serve to sway him. Micah merely rolled his eyes at Ewan and followed Howard inside.
He was still disheveled from the journey. When he had returned to the inn, he had woken Ewan from a sound sleep and demanded he start packing immediately. An hour later, Mrs. Ruark was paid, looking very sleepy and disappoint
