Rutherford.” Lord MacLeod shook Jack’s hand. His grip was firm but his hand cold, the skin paper-fragile. He had insisted on standing to greet Jack when he was announced, but Jack was rather afraid that his host would collapse before he made it back to the chair before the fire. Lord MacLeod moved slowly to his seat, as though each step pained him, but there was also something defiant in His Lordship’s stance that absolutely forbade any help. Jack respected that. A footman fetched refreshments. Wine was offered but Jack chose coffee. He wanted to keep a clear head. He had no notion why the laird of MacLeod had summoned him. They were barely acquainted. But he suspected that MacLeod wanted something and he also suspected he would not like what it was. As a general rule he seldom did favors for people unless there was some very substantial benefit to himself. It was a rule that served him well. Arguably it was also selfish and dishonorable, but he cared little about that.
