The Duke's Scottish Lass (Brethren of Stone 0.50)

Though her father swore he was a good man, she couldn’t help but lend some credence to the multitude of rumors that swirled about this family. Or more particularly, the new Lord Alban.

They said he was a cruel, hard man. That he would work his tenants to death. He allowed no grievances to be brought before him. He never allowed his colliers freedom from their servitude to him. It made her blood boil to think of such injustices. She suspected the rumor she’d heard in the village that claimed he would take the families’ firstborns to be an exaggeration but now that she’d seen the man, well, she wouldn’t put it past him.

The former Lord Alban was her father’s single largest client, and his support of her father gave them a life that was beyond comfort, a fact that her father reminded her of as they travelled to this meeting. “You will not be rude, young lady,” had been his exact words.

She normally wouldn’t have needed such a reminder but she’d resented having to travel for business so soon after her mother’s death. It had been a three-day journey to come from their home in Perth to Lord Alban’s highland estate in Glencoe.

As if that weren’t enough, the closer they got to their destination, the more people talked of the notorious earl. He was dark, dreary, and dreadful. And while his father had made this land prosperous, they were certain the son would cast them into ruin.

“Did ye see his glower? A more dour man never walked the earth,” one shopkeeper had said.

“He’s spoiled and mean,” another had added. “I heard that he refused to

let the farmers air their grievances when they were shorted money by the mills.” The older woman leaned closer. “Kept the money for himself, I’d wager.”

The other woman had humphed. “I wouldn’t doubt it. I heard that he didn’t even have a proper wake. Removed the mourners from his home. Just didn’t want to feed ‘em likely as not. A disgrace.”

Eliza had gasped into her glove. This was the man she had left mourning to attend? The rumors had only grown worse the closer they had gotten until she was near livid on behalf of the people here.

“Let’s all make ourselves more comfortable inside.” Lord Alban pointed through the open gate to the large double doors beyond. “Ye must be tired after yer journey and it has been a trying day for us.”

“My mum and da are never coming back.” A little girl spoke next to Lord Alban and, for the first time, Eliza looked beyond him to the others around him.

She swallowed hard. The grief on their faces was far more palpable than Lord Alban’s and some of the younger boys wiped tears from their eyes still.

A few were dark like Lord Alban, but some were fair and she wondered if they were all his siblings or relations of another kind. They clearly didn’t live in the village or they would have travelled on with the rest of the mourners.

Lord Alban reached down and picked up the girl, who wrapped her arms and legs about him, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “I ken, lamb,” his voice was completely different, near soothing. Her insides fluttered again and she cocked her head to the side. Surely it wasn’t fear motivating her feelings now.

A lump formed in Eliza’s throat, her empathy for the child making it difficult to hold back tears. The girl looked like a little angel. Her long blonde hair, cascaded down the dark rough skin of his arm. “Who will take care of me?” The little girl asked.

“I will, of course.” He soothed. Then his eyes focused back on her and her father. She nearly jumped as their piecing depths collided with hers. “Shall we?”

He didn’t wait for a response before he strode past them, still holding the child. Eliza attempted to not huff her breath. How rude. She knew she should make allowances because he was fresh into mourning but it was difficult after all she’d heard. And she mustn’t forget, no matter how sweet he had just appeared, she was dealing with the devil.

Chapter One

Stone led the way into the house, and into a sitting room where refreshments had already been laid out.

He was mildly amazed they still had food to share. The mourners having nearly eaten them out of house and home.

Not bothering with the food, he crossed to the decanter of whisky that sat on its own table. Reaching for a glass, he poured himself a large snifter and tossed the drink back in a single gulp. As he turned he saw Allister’s daughter give him a look of disapproval.

Let the little chit judge. He cared not. Had she buried both of the parents today? Did she find herself to be head of a family and of the surrounding land? Thousands of people depending on her for their very survival?

Damnation, he normally didn’t let people bother him so. It was surely the emotion of the day.

Setting the glass back down, waved his hand and signaled for his siblings to line up. “Eliza,” as he said her name, she nearly jumped. Another ripple of irritation passed through him. “I’d like to introduce you to my siblings. This is Blair,” he pointed to his next oldest brother, “William. The twins are Matthew and Roderick. And then our little sister, Arianna.” He poured himself another glass of whisky. “On behalf of our family, we’d like to extend our condolences for your loss.”

Eliza gave a stiff nod. “And to ye as well.”

“If ye’ll forgive us for dispensing with anymore formalities, I think we’d all like to eat.” He gestured toward the food. “Please feel free to join us.”

“Thank ye,” she said but he ignored it, tipping his glass to his lips.

He heard her huff then. A little sound of disapproval. He dropped his glass back down and glared at her. It had been one of the worst days of his life and he’d endured enough judgment already. He wouldn’t tolerate it in his own home. But as she opened his mouth to speak, Allister stepped forward.

“Thank ye fer yer kindness.” He gave a pointed look back at his daughter. “Refreshments sound lovely.”