Lessons in Loving a Laird Read online

  “’Twere not our fault the estate has been ungoverned this past eighteen-month after the old laird passed away. No one came to collect the rents.”

  “All the more reason I would expect ye to have the monies from the sale of last year’s crops.”

  “No, sir. We put all that money back into the management of the farm. Bought a new plow, got a stronger horse. We rotated our crops, and that required additional tilling and fertilizing.”

  Mr. Hartopp pasted an artificial smile on his face. “I appreciate the improvements to the land, Mr. Findlay. But the fact remains that the rent must be paid.”

  “We need more time to make up the debt, Mr. Hartopp. Can the laird just give me until the harvest?”

  “Ye may wait until harvest to make up the rent past due for this year. But as I informed you yesterday, Ballencrieff must have the last twelvemonth rent.”

  “I tried to sell all my lambs yesterday … did ye at least tell the laird that ye yerself stopped me from doing so?”

  Mr. Hartopp shook his head. “Selling off your livestock was a step ye should have taken a long time ago. As the new laird’s factor, I could not risk that ye would abscond with any new profits. It is now simply too late. The laird has the right to confiscate this land for nonpayment of rent.”

  Hume turned pale. “The wife and I are advanced in years, Mr. Hartopp. Ye can’t throw us off the homestead we’ve had for nigh on three decades.”

  “That decision is for the laird to make. But in the meantime, these crops are now forfeit to Ballencrieff.”

  Hume’s voice shot up. “But I worked these crops, sir. They’re mine.”

  “Not in the eyes of the law, Mr. Findlay. This land belongs to the estate of Ballencrieff. Under yer agreement with the landowner, ye were permitted to live upon and cultivate these forty acres for a rent of thirty-five pounds sterling per annum. As ye have provided the estate with neither monies as rent, nor provender to the stables, nor produce to the house, it now falls to the laird to determine how the estate can recover its losses. It will be my recommendation to rent the arable part of the land to a new tenant, thereby making good on most of your arrears.”

  “That’s not fair! The fields are already planted and cultivated. A few more months and they’ll produce a full harvest. This year, I’ve got wheat, peas, barley, and oats. They’ll bring in enough money at market, I promise. If I could just have more time. Maybe if I speak to Mr. Carnock, the former factor?”

  A note of pique sharpened his tone. “Mr. Carnock is no longer working for the estate. I’m the new laird’s factor, and ye’ll have to deal with me. And I do not look the other way when I see a scrounger living off my employer’s generosity. In fact, if the laird is agreeable, I will suggest that he scrape you off his land this very day.”

  Hume had been a strict master, but a fair one. In all the time Shona had worked for him, she’d never seen him swindle anyone. Everyone in these parts could attest that Hume never asked for a farthing more for something than it was worth, nor did he pay less than its fair value. Indignation leaped within her. No one insulted Hume that way and got away with it.

  “Ye will, will ye?” Shona retorted, taking a step toward the white-haired man. “Then ye’re as wicked as ye are ugly. Hume is no scrounger, and he’s never cheated a soul. The man’s as good as his word. If he told ye ye’d have yer money at the harvest, then ye’d be smart to believe him. But ye seem more interested in showing off yer fancy suit and crowing like a cockerel on a pile of pigswill. Ye’re nothing but bully and bluster, and I’ll wager ye don’t have the goolies to do it. Away with ye, and tell yer master he’s got a whey-haired old goat for a servant.”

  Mr. Hartopp’s face flushed to red, and even the whites of his eyes had colored to pink. He looked as if he’d been winded by a fist to his gut.

  The carriage door opened. A glassy black Hessian boot emerged and landed on the muddy path. A second followed, and the door closed. Standing beside the carriage was a man almost as tall as General, the Clydesdale she had just been harnessing. His mouth had thinned to a razor-blade line across his face, and his eyes were blue flames burning beneath a scowl. He was dressed unlike any Scotsman she knew, with a tailcoat of navy blue and breeches made of fawn. A white cravat was tied underneath his square chin, and a gold brocade waistcoat outlined a trim torso. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the new laird of Ballencrieff was an—

  “You can tell me yourself, young woman, for I’m right here.”

  Shona’s open mouth closed slowly. The man towered over her, filling her range of vision with his forbidding presence. A quake of fear erupted in her belly.

  She swallowed hard, trying not to betray her trepidation. The man was an unfamiliar threat, but he clearly had both the status and the physical strength to enforce his own will. He was not in the least singed by her words. And that was the only weapon she had at her disposal.

  “What game is this?” she demanded, forcing the steadiness back in her voice. “Do ye really expect us to believe that the laird of Ballencrieff is an … an—”

  “Englishman?” The handsome man cocked an eyebrow. “I’m afraid so.”

  Now it was Shona’s turn to be winded. His clothes, his accent, even his arrogance all screamed English. Despite the dominating stance, he was incredibly, incredibly handsome.

  “Bah!” Hume punched his forefinger in the man’s direction. “Ballencrieff was a patriot. A head-to-toe Scotsman. He would ha’ nothing to do with Sassenachs.”

  The man’s jaw tensed, and his eyes grew flinty.

  “I appreciate neither my uncle’s politics nor your disparaging remark, sir. Do not now pretend you two were allies. As for your daughter here, you’d do well to teach her to respect her betters. Or at least to keep a civil tongue in her head.”

  Hume’s mouth sealed to a tight-lipped snarl.

  The Englishman continued. “As for Mr. Hartopp’s generous offer, it is hereby nullified. You will repay your debt—in its entirety—to my estate. If you don’t like that arrangement, perhaps a spate in debtor’s prison is in order, there to remain until every last penny is settled. Now, what’s it to be?”

  Shona could kick herself. Her outburst served only to worsen Hume’s position. And put a smug smile on Mr. Hartopp’s face.

  Hume grumbled into his chest. “I’ve got five pound in the house.”

  The Englishman gave a curt nod. “And?”

  Hume’s nostrils flared. “I’m owed four pound thruppence from some in town. I can have it to you on the morrow.”

  “And?”

  Hume shrugged. “Crops will come in by fall.”

  The Englishman shook his head. “I won’t wait that long. You can make up the difference with the livestock. Hartopp, what was your accounting of his animals?”

  Perfunctorily, Mr. Hartopp opened his book to a marked page and scrolled down with his finger. “Three milk cows, seventeen dairy goats, two bucks, one plow horse, twenty-four sheep and lambs, fourteen laying hens, and one rooster.”

  “Take them. Have them conveyed to the estate until I decide what to do with them. You can reduce Mr. Hume’s debt by the fair market value of his animals.” The Englishman turned on his heel, followed closely by Mr. Hartopp.

  “But you can’t take my animals, my lord,” Hume pleaded. “You’ll leave us with no milk or cheese or meat. We need them for sustenance.”

  The Englishman didn’t even turn around as he spoke. “I’m certain you’ll think of something.”

  Hume removed his cap and held it to his chest in humility. “My lord, please. My family will starve without them.”

  The Englishman stopped in his tracks. He heaved a ragged sigh and turned around. The Englishman’s eyes landed upon Shona. His expression softened.

  “Very well. In light of your years, I’ll allow you to keep the plow horse to help you bring in the harvest. You may also keep one cow, and half of the poultry. That should keep you and your daughter from immediate want.”
r />   “I’m no’ his daughter,” erupted Shona.

  “Pardon?”

  It felt so good to toss his mistake into his face. “I said, I’m no’ his daughter.”

  “I see,” he said, his irritation palpable. “You’re incredibly opinionated, but I find you a bit scruffy to be his solicitor. Who are you then?”

  Hume took a step toward her. “She’s a parish orphan, my lord. The wife and I took her and her sister in. We’ve been taking care of them for almost ten year now. I taught Shona the business of farming. Growing crops and raising livestock.”

  The Englishman crossed his arms at his chest. Slowly, his eyes took their fill of her, and she grew uncomfortable under his perusal. She could just imagine how she looked to him. Horse manure caked her shoes and lined the hem of her dress. Her wet, shiny hair hung down her head like long black snakes. Her once-white pinafore was now mottled with smears from handling the rain-soaked animals.

  A thread of embarrassment coiled inside her. The image she presented to him was little more than mud, moisture, and manure. At least her branded hand was behind her, out of his sight.

  “How much were you given for her?”

  Hume wrung the tam in his hands. “Er … two pound, my lord.”

  The Englishman scratched his jaw. “I’ve not hired any outside servants yet—other than the gamekeeper, that is. I’ll need someone to look after the livestock that Hartopp is conveying to the estate. As you’ll have little enough need of Shona yourself, you can article her to me. And for that, I’ll reduce your debt by a further four pounds.”

  Hume silently considered the proposition.

  But not Shona.

  “Ye’ve a bloody cheek!” she told the Englishman, her hands pinned to her hips. “How dare ye trade me aboot like an animal! Who do ye think ye are? I won’t be bought and sold like a heifer.”

  Mr. Hartopp rolled his eyes. “My dear young woman, there is little enough difference between a parish apprentice and a farmyard animal. In fact, if it were left to smell alone, I doubt the laird would be able to distinguish between a heifer and yerself.”

  The Englishman suppressed a chuckle. Shona, however, was not similarly amused.

  “Why, you ill-begotten, half-bairned son of a cur!” She lunged at Mr. Hartopp, determined to scratch the smug look off his face. Before her nails made contact, a long arm snaked around her middle.

  “Whoa!” shouted the Englishman. “It was only a jest.”

  “’Twas no jest,” she said, struggling against the Englishman’s superior strength. “’Twas an insult, clear and deliberate!”

  He laughed. “You thrust first in that swordfight. It was not so long ago you called him a whey-haired old goat. Now sheathe your claws.”

  Shona stopped wriggling. When she did, she became vividly aware of the feel of the man holding her tightly. Behind her was a wall of strength—a wide chest dense with muscle, narrowing to a firm waist. His long legs prevented any retreat, but she wasn’t making any. She grasped the arm wrapped around her middle. The fabric of his sleeve was soft, but the muscles beneath were marble-hard. Her waning fury was quickly replaced by a surprisingly agreeable sensation.

  He released her, and she backed away from him. Her body was still tingling wherever it had made contact with his.

  He jerked on his waistcoat, straightening his clothes. “Now, the fact remains that my estate is not yet fully staffed, and your services will be required. Apprentices don’t usually get paid, but I am prepared to offer you a small wage, in addition to bed and board. If you’re industrious and well behaved, that is. And I’ll give Mr. Findlay here until the end of the year to make up the balance owed. Now, are we in agreement?”

  For the first time, hope winked inside her. Not only would Hume have more time to pay his debts, but she would finally be able to earn a wage. Her mind reeled with the possibilities of how her and Willow’s lives would change if they went to work for the Englishman. Surely with some money jingling in their pockets, they would be in a better position to seek their own lives—and Camran—once they turned twenty-one. Also, she’d be able to tend to Pillow and all the other animals she’d come to love.

  On the other hand, the Englishman might prove to be an evil taskmaster. She’d heard stories of Sassenach lords and the advantages they took of servant girls. For all his boorishness and bluster, Hume was no lecher. She wasn’t so sure about the Englishman. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.

  The Englishman’s eyes gazed at her in bemused curiosity. He was handsomer than she had at first surmised. His eyes were blue, like the sky on a summer day, encircled by a darker cobalt, like the color of a loch in winter. Beneath his long eyebrows, his eyes were edged by a thick fringe of dark brown lash. The wind picked up a sandy brown whorl from above his forehead. His jaw was clean-shaven, but tomorrow’s beard lay submerged underneath.

  Maybe this would not be such a bad move after all. “Sounds fair enough. Aye. Willow and I can be there on the morrow.”

  The crease between his eyebrows deepened. “Willow? Is that the cow’s name?”

  Shona laughed. “No. Willow is my sister.”

  His dark lips thinned. “Willow is not part of the bargain between myself and Mr. Findlay. She can stay here on the farm.”

  The smile drained from her face. “Nay. Willow must come with me.”

  The Englishman sighed. “I’m sorry. Findlay, please sort this out. Hartopp will draw up the articles of indenture. I want the girl on my estate before nightfall.” The Englishman stepped onto the carriage.

  “I’ll not leave without Willow,” she protested.

  Hume put a hand on her arm. “Leave it be, Shona. I want Willow to stay here with me.”

  She jerked her arm free and ran to the carriage door, holding it open. “Ye must take us both. Keep the wages if ye wish, but I’ll not leave Willow behind.”

  “Shona, hush yerself!” Hume admonished. “Take no notice of her, my lord. ’Tis sisterly affection between them. But they are of age now, and must learn to live apart.”

  “No,” she insisted. “It is both or none.”

  “Young woman,” began the Englishman, “I am not in the habit of being issued ultimatums, least of all by those in my employ. Now I strongly suggest that you—”

  His voice trailed off and his eyes lifted to a place just behind her. She turned to look. Willow was standing behind her.

  “Please, my lord,” Willow said. “Don’t separate us. I’ll be no trouble, I promise.”

  He blinked. “You’re Shona’s sister?”

  “Aye, my lord.” Willow cast her face toward the ground, her blond hair falling forward along her cheeks.

  He gave Willow a leisurely appraisal. His expression was one that many men had when they set eyes upon Willow. “Very well, Shona. I’ll take you both. I think I might be able to find something for her to do. Gather your belongings. The carriage leaves in ten minutes.”

  * * *

  Within five minutes, the girls had tossed their wardrobe—the frocks that they shared between them—and their few belongings into a worn leather valise they had brought with them from the orphanage. Iona stood in the doorway of their room and wept, swearing all sorts of curses upon Hume’s bald head.

  “Don’t cry, Iona,” said Shona as she changed out of her wet dress and into a dry one. “The estate is only five miles away. I promise Willow and I will be back every chance we get.”

  Iona’s nose looked like a wet cherry. “Five miles? It may as well be fifty. Ye’ll never make it out to the farm from that distance. And even if ye could, there’s no telling what that Sassenach laird will be like. He might refuse to let ye leave the estate. He might be just as bad a tyrant as his uncle, may that man rot in his grave. Oh, God. What if he’s a scoundrel? What if he takes advantage of ye?” Iona dissolved into tears again.

  Willow embraced Iona from behind as Shona grasped the older woman’s hands. “We’re not going to let that happen,” Shona assured he
r. “Don’t ye worry. We can take care of ourselves.”

  “Ye, perhaps. But Willow, sweeting, ye must promise to be strong.” She turned toward Willow, whose own tears had begun to fall swiftly. “Men are animals, the lot of ’em. They want only one thing, especially from a pretty girl like ye. Ye mustn’t let anyone bully ye into giving them favors. Not yer master, not the other servants. Ye’re a sweet girl, and ye don’t understand the effect ye have on a man.”

  Shona looked away, stung once again by the realization that she was not the prettier of the two. Willow’s effortless loveliness drew men to her like flies to honey. She could see why. That creamy, unblemished skin, which invited caresses; the childlike shape of her face, which lent her an ageless beauty; those full, shell-pink lips that formed a perpetual pout; her long, shiny lashes, which made her appear as if she had just been weeping. Yet there was an unawareness of her own beauty, making Willow much more susceptible to men’s flattery, leaving her as helpless as a tethered goat outside a den of wolves. Iona’s advice was a truth that Willow needed to hear.

  “And ye,” continued Iona, placing both her hands on Shona’s cheeks, “take care of yer sister. Ye’re a sensible soul, and ye’ve sound instincts. If anyone makes unreasonable demands of either of ye, or hurts ye in any way, promise me that ye’ll run away straight home. D’ye understand? Hie yerselves here.”

  “I promise,” she said.

  A crest of tears spilled over the rims of Iona’s blue eyes. “Dear Lord, what am I going to do without m’girls?”

  They went downstairs to the kitchen, where Iona placed some treacle biscuits and the kidney pie she had made for Hume’s dinner into a basket. She stumbled over her own sobs, trying to pour overdue motherly advice into their heads. All she managed to do was stammer unintelligibly.

  The driver placed their bundles in the rumble of the carriage. He then held the door open for them and helped them onto the coach.

  The interior of the coach was even grander than the exterior. Burgundy-colored leather seats faced each other, and the matching walls were accented with gold trim. The clear glass windows were elegantly etched at each corner.