Wicked Laird (Brethren of Stone 2)

He walked into the little house and the smell hit him like pudding at Christmas. Fresh bread wafted through the air and savory stew like he hadn’t had in weeks, maybe months, made his mouth water. Stepping into the kitchen, he watched her move about his space. Her back was to him and she was wearing his shirt with a blanket tied about her waist like a skirt. “Yer not supposed to be up.”

She looked over her shoulder giving him a devilish smile. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to make haggis.”

“Sit down,” he grumbled. “The boys will be back in a minute, you should be tucked into a chair with another blanket about you.”

She gave a nod, beginning to hobble over to the chair. “I made the stew for you but would it be too much to ask if I give the boys a small bit before they work?”

“Of course not.” he turned and strode to her side. Without a word, he slipped his arm about her and all but carried her to the chair. He ignored the way his body tightened at the contact. “They didn’t eat at the noon meal?”

He watched her face spasm, her mouth tightening. It was so brief he might have missed it. “There rarely is one.”

He said nothing as he gently set her down, but unsettling thoughts had begun to creep in beyond just his worry for Elle. These people weren’t thriving. His brother Stone spent all of his days working. Not as much for their family’s wealth but to provide for the community. He built schools, infirmaries, created wealth that sustained the people.

Blair’d taken this property on to build his own wealth, a future where he was a success independent of his family, but he hadn’t considered as the laird that he’d also be taking on the responsibility of the people around him. Of course, the last laird’s failure had impacted everyone in the province. Now he needed to succeed not just for himself but for all of them.

He straightened his shoulders. Had he never considered the weight his older brother carried?

The door opening interrupted his thoughts as the boys quietly entered. Ailean sniffed the air and Blair saw his look of absolute longing, heard his stomach growl, as the boy turned toward the kitchen stove.

Shamus came up behind him and groaned, his hand coming to his stomach. Poor kid needed a meal to fill his belly. “Yer sister’s been cooking,” he said.

“Aye.” Ailean nodded and rubbed his tummy. Lachlan came in behind them and stopped, staring at the pot of food.

“How’s the tide look?” Blair asked crossing back into the small corner that housed the kitchen.

“Nearly done going out. Another hour.” Aliean replied.

Blair gestured to the table. “Sit then. We’ll have a quick bite and then we’ll pull out the boat.”

The boys’ eyes grew round but they sat without a word. As he handed them each a bowl, the delicious scent wafted into his nostrils. It was a far cry better than what he’d been preparing for himself and it made him, despite his fears, convinced that his plan to have Elle cook for him was a good one. He’d learned his lessons, hadn’t he? If he could keep from proposing the way he had with Cordelia than they could enter into an arrangement that was mutually beneficial.

He looked over to where Elle sat in the chair. Her long, dark lashes rested on her upper cheeks as she softly breathed. Her hair had dried and the strawberry blonde locks had been twisted over one shoulder, hanging down to her waist. He’d like to touch that hair. While her eyes were closed, the tension in her face told him she wasn’t asleep.

He poured another bowl, then walked toward her. “Have you eaten?”

She looked back up at him and shook her head. Her green eyes, like the color of spring grass, near took his breath away. They too were filled with hunger but he didn’t want food. He handed her the bowl. “You’ll need it for your recovery.”

With a nod, she accepted the soup and brought the bowl delicately to her lips. He turned away. He had to stop thinking like this if this arrangement was to work at all.

After pouring a bowl for himself, he ate quickly, then called to the boys. They bounced back outside. With a quick look at Elle, he narrowed his gaze in mock severity. “Stay in that chair.” He could only hope they’d be able to save that boat. If they didn’t, he didn’t know how he could help Elle and Ailean. They’d be indebted to him for the next decade if he had to buy a new one.

The door closed with a soft click. Elle would comply this time without complaint. The morning had worn her out.

She gave her ankle a soft turn. Hissing at the first stab of pain, she was grateful she could move it, a good sign.

Closing her eyes, she let her mind wander and it naturally followed Blair down to the beach. He pulled out the boat, muscles rippling. With that same unruffled confidence, he repaired it and returned it to her neighbor. She, all the while, stayed tucked here. Warm, safe, and fed. When he came back, he lifted her into his arms again, only this time he didn’t just carry her to safety. He placed his lips on hers and then he…she stopped herself.

“Foolish girl,” she said to the walls around her. There were no such happy endings. Not for her, anyway. Why was she still dreaming about a man saving her?

As if to remind herself why it was a terrible idea to let her thoughts wander so, she reached her hand under the blankets and touched the scars on the back of her legs. They’d healed and it didn’t hurt to run her fingers along them but they served as a reminder of what happened when she put her blind faith into a man’s hands.

From the moment she’d accepted Malcom’s proposal, she’d known it was a mistake. She didn’t love him of course, she barely liked him. But he would provide for her, and even more importantly, Ailean. He was too young to take on their father’s lease and become the earner for their family. He’d deserved a childhood.

But Malcom had begun making demands almost immediately. He’d chosen all new clothing for her. Which might seem exciting for a young girl from the village, but it had been clear her opinion didn’t matter.

She told herself it was just clothing. And pretty ones at that. Her cupboards were full, Ailean would be able to attend school. It was worth it. But that had only been the beginning.

She shifted in the chair. She wasn’t a fool. She knew all men weren’t like Malcolm. But at the heart of all this, she was vulnerable. She had no money, barely enough food. She couldn’t afford to get swept away by any emotions. She had to keep her head and her wits.