“Of course,” her father nodded. “Please stay within sight of the house.”
She stepped outside and the salty air hit her nostrils once again. The house sat perched at the mouth of a river that led to the sea. Lord Alban had been blessed in more ways than one, she noted. Rich, fertile land, good for farming and yielding coal. The sea provided ample food. No wonder the Albans were so successful.
She followed a path to the water and, at the edge of the cliff, looked down at the view of the water. It was breathtaking. But a movement to her left caught her attention. The land continued to rise and on top of a crest stood a Kirkyard. Even from this distance, the outline of Lord Alban standing by a large stone was impossible to ignore. He looked like a stone himself, rising out of the earth.
Without meaning to, she began walking toward him.
As she grew closer, she could see his head bowed, his hands clasped in front of him. She had a sudden pang of regret about the way she’d judged his behavior today. He’d buried his parents today. That entitled anyone to be brusque.
Not that it changed the rumors swirling about him. But all the same, today, at least, he deserved some measure of sympathy.
As she drew closer, he didn’t raise his head but his voice called sharply. “What do ye want?”
She drew in a long breath. Had she just been feeling sympathy for this man? “I came to offer my condolences.”
He looked up to her then, his gaze penetrating into hers until she did, in fact, cease moving toward him. His eyes no less potent out in the sun. His voice rumbled through her. “Thank ye. If ye don’t mind, I’d prefer to be alone.”
She gave a curt shake of her head and turned to go. But then, she moved back to face him. “I’ll only keep ye a moment. But the day I buried my mother, I didn’t speak for the entire day, I can’t quite recollect, but I don’t think I spoke for several after.” She cleared her throat, these next words a little difficult. “I admire your strength.”
Surprise lit his face, making it less heavy, handsome even. “Thank ye.”
With a parting nod, she returned the way she had come. She attempted to forget how much those eyes affected her. The man was not to be trusted.
Stone watched Miss McLaren walk away, his teeth clenching together. Mostly because he didn’t want to like that woman. He’d seen the way she’d looked at him. Those looks had haunted his nightmares as a child and, now that he was a man, he wouldn’t be prisoner to them any longer. Stone froze out anyone who treated him with disdain.
He’d do well to remember the judgment he’d seen in her eyes when they’d first met his. She was beautiful, it couldn’t be denied, and her attempt at kindness might lull him into letting his guard down.
He looked back at the stone marking his parent’s resting place. How could this have happened? Technically speaking, he knew what had happened. The collapse had begun in one of the mines. Men were trapped and his father had rushed to the mines to help clear the opening. His mother had been awaiting his father when a second collapse had begun. She’d rushed in to save him or warn him. He bowed his head as pain radiated through him. They’d never know.
Stone swallowed down the lump rising in his throat. He was the keeper of the land, the one everyone was depending on. He wouldn’t cry now or ever.
Turning away, he began back down the hill. Losing both his parents meant that he had no one to guide him now. Standing here wallowing in his grief wouldn’t help. It was best that he begin work.
He spent most of the afternoon with Allister, going through books and reviewing projects his father had commissioned. Stone’s head ached by the time dinner approached. He only now realized that he hadn’t eaten any of the buffet that had been laid out.
Placing his head in his hands he took a deep breath.
Allister cleared his throat. “Forgive me, my lord but—”
“Just Stone, Allister,” he said without looking up.
“Stone,” Allister continued. “The funeral for the lost miners is tomorrow. Are ye going to attend?”
“Of course,” he answered. “Their loss is my loss.” He shook his head, thinking of all the women who had lost their husbands. Twenty widows. He scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Tomorrow, he’d count the children. “Have we started the school in that province?”
“Yes,” Allister searched through the pile. “And a teacher has already been hired.”
“Good.” Stone ran his hand through his hair again. It was overlong, but he’d worry about it later. “I’d also like to give each of the widows a sum for their loss. Help them find their way.”
“That is not required,” Allister gave him a questioning look.
He nodded. “I ken, but it’s the right thing tae do. Those men gave their lives to us. If I’m reading these books correctly, the mines make us more than farming, milling, or fishing combined.”
“It’s true.” Allister paused, clearing his throat. “And I think it’s noble. But I am worried, especially with you being the new lord, that other people will attempt to take advantage. Widows and women claiming to be widows will arrive at your door in droves, looking for a gift.”
Stone sighed. The farmers had already tried that trick. “I’ll deal with the consequences when they come. I won’t let people’s bad behavior keep me from doing what is right.”
Allister sat back in his chair, giving him a smile. “That is what will make ye as good a lord as yer father.”