the arse, but the clomp of hurried footsteps rattling the air stole his attention. He glanced at the front door.
Nevan.
Sarina’s young brother rushed into the house, his breath teetering on a pant, and his face flushed. He nearly collided with Tipton who was quick to silently step aside for the lad.
Campbell’s gaze flew to the semi-tarnished silver box clutched under Nevan’s right arm. With a hold as tight as the lad employed, one would think the dented tin contained the relics of Saint Andrew himself. What he’d give to have his worries reduced solely to the protection of a simple trinket. He sighed.
Nevan, on the other hand, went straight for Ian.
On the instant, Campbell recognized the possessive gleam in the boy’s eyes. He leaned back against the wall content to watch whatever the hell was about to unfold.
“Here, now, sir,” Nevan said, nudging Ian back a step. “I will not have you take such liberties with Miss Ogilvy.”
Ian smirked as he peeled his stare from Sarina’s face. “And who may ye be?”
“Mr. Nevan Ogilvy, the late Charles Ogilvy’s son. The hand you are holding belongs to my sister.”
“Well then, ye have my apologies, Nevan.” Glancing back to Sarina, Ian winked.
Nevan fumed. “That’s Mr. Ogilvy, to you, sir.”
“Nevan!” Sarina’s cheeks turned a rosy pink.
The color suited her, thought Campbell, before pushing off the wall and attempting to remedy the situation with his young guest. An all-out war between Nevan and Ian might cause the man to blurt out some sinister revelation Sarina didnae yet need to learn. “My apologies, Mr. Ogilvy. I assure ye Ian means no harm to ye sister. He is just a wee bit over enthusiastic.”
“He’s a Highland rogue is more like it.” Nevan swatted Ian’s hand from Sarina’s fingers and then proceeded to wedge himself between his sister and his perceived-to-be scandalous Scot. He glared at Campbell. “Is he your brother?”
“No. Though we are related. Mr. Ian MacHendrie is my cousin.”
“I see,” Nevan said, taking a quick look at his sister, then returning his gaze to Campbell. “I apologize, my lord. I did not mean to be rude, but you must understand I am my sister’s keeper now that my father is dead.”
Campbell tamped down the laugh rising in his throat. “Spoken like a true gentleman, Mr. Ogilvy. Ye have my utmost respect, sir, and on that note, I give ye my word that Ian will cause ye no more troubles.”
“Thank you.” Nevan adjusted his greatcoat but remained standing in front of Sarina.
“Perhaps ye’d like to get settled in, Mr. Nevan?” Campbell stared down at the lad. “I’ve instructed my staff to prepare the green room for ye as it has the best hearth and the best bed.”
Nevan didn’t appear thrilled with the offer. “I thought my sister requested we stay at our father’s cottage?”
Campbell folded his arms across his chest. “She did. However, the cottage is currently undergoing renovations. I thought ye would be more comfortable here at Lycansay Hall.”
“Comfort is not my concern, sir.”
Sarina glared at her brother, the gold flecks in her eyes suddenly seeming as if they were molten honey. She narrowed her gaze.
Nevan hesitated. The appearance of being trapped between minding his manners and voicing his true opinion showed heavily on his young face, but in the end, he heeded his sister’s silent warning. “The green room will do, my lord. Thank you.”
“Yer verra welcome, Mr. Ogilvy. Now, if ye dunnae mind, yer sister and I have business to discuss, if that meets with yer approval?”
“Of course it does. I am only two-and-ten, sir. Far too young to understand all that absurd research my father conducted. Sarina is more apt at that nonsense.”
Sarina simply hung her head low and fisted her palms.
Campbell laughed to himself, though he felt horrible for Miss Ogilvy. He could get used to having Nevan around as it was quite refreshing to hear the lad speak his mind. “I promise nae to keep yer sister, too long, Mr. Ogilvy. Until then, Tipton here will show ye upstairs.”
Studying the butler, Nevan tilted his head, his unruly brown hair skimming his eyes. “I require a meal, Mr. Tipton.”
“It has already been arranged,” the butler said.
“Good. For I am famished as the last bit of food I ate was a rather hard biscuit at the inn this morning.” Nevan stepped away from Sarina, whose face was now nearly completely red, her eyes squinting almost to the point as if they were about to shoot arrows at her brother.