“To make matters worse," Luke continued, "there was an accident."
Her eyes widened. "What kind of accident?"
"A cask of whisky slipped from the hoisting gear, broke on the roof of a transit shed, and poured all over MacRae. He's ready to murder someone - which is why I brought him up here to you."
Despite her concern, Merritt let out a snort of laughter. "Luke Marsden, are you planning to hide behind my skirts while I confront the big, mean Scotsman?"
"Absolutely," he said without hesitation. "You like them big and mean.”
Her brows lifted. "What in heaven's name are you talking about?"
"You love soothing difficult people. You're the human equivalent of table syrup."
Amused, Merritt leaned her chin on her hand. "Show him in, then, and I'll start pouring."
It wasn't that she loved soothing difficult people. But she definitely liked to smooth things over when she could. As the oldest of six children, she'd always been the one to settle quarrels among her brothers and sisters, or come up with indoor games on rainy days. More than once, she'd orchestrated midnight raids on the kitchen pantry or told them stories when they'd sneaked to her room after bedtime.”