The Harlot (Taskill Witches 1)

Robert chortled at that. “You look well, old friend. Where in God’s name have you been?”

“Far and wide. I joined a crew in Dundee…and now I own a share in a trade ship. I’ve been at sea many years now.”

“The sea, that explains it. I wondered on it. Just about every day I wondered.” Robert shook his head, his eyes bright with emotion. “I’m mighty glad to see you again.”

“Please, keep it to yourself for the time being.”

“Why?” Robert’s earnest expression made Gregor falter.

“I need time.” He would have to tell him why.

“Will you be staying?”

“No. But I have come to reclaim what was ours. I have money, plenty of it.”

Robert grew serious. “That will be difficult.”

Gregor leaned closer. “I appointed a notary to represent me in Saint Andrews. He informed me that some of the land would be up for auction soon.”

“Oh, aye. Wallace continued to build up his estate for several years, and occasionally now sells off bits of it that he deems unworthy. But I doubt he will sell it to you.”

Gregor reflected on that. It was Wallace’s way to buy up or win land adjacent to his own just to swell his estate. Gregor had appointed his notary and established himself with a banker two years before. That was when he began making his plans. The news that part of the estate was being sold was what had brought him back. The time was right to do what had to be done.

Robert continued. “He has half the village calling him ‘Laird’ now.”

Gregor bristled. That was always Wallace’s aim, but he was not well liked by the powerful families of the region, those who warranted respect because they treated their tenants well.

“But now Forbes, his eldest, is like a guard dog. Whenever there is a transaction on any of the surrounding land he appears and tries to put a stop to it.”

Gregor grimaced. “As bad as his father then?”

“Worse, believe me.”

Gregor lifted his eyebrows. He barely remembered Forbes Wallace, who was several years younger than them.

Robert nodded. “Forbes doesn’t live up at the

house. He disappears off to who knows where, but as soon as there is any business going on he is back. It’s as if he has an informer up at the hall. If old man Wallace threatens to unhinge his inheritance, Forbes rears his ugly head, arriving back here from wherever it is he hides himself.”

“There is bad feeling between them?” Gregor absorbed the news. Anything that might be useful was worth storing away. If he could install Jessie there, she could easily find out more.

Robert leaned closer. “Ivor Wallace is bitterer even than the rest of us about the union with England. He supports the fight for independence with zeal.”

Wallace’s motives had always seemed to be selfish. He’d built his wealth out of other people’s misfortunes, using trickery, his aspirations to be the most important landowner in these parts driving him. Therein lay great power, political power.

However, what surprised Gregor most of all was that he might have something in common with his old enemy—

support for the rebellion against English rule. He considered Ivor Wallace his complete opposite, a man he would have nothing in common with.

War and politics did forge unlikely bonds, it was true.

“Under English law,” Robert continued, “Wallace cannot demand favors of men he kept in his pocket for years. Word is that he has committed funds to the independence movement, and the sale of land is his source. Forbes, on the other hand, fancies himself some sort of spokesman for a new order, the Scotland under union.” Robert’s expression was one of great disapproval. “Some say he has colluded with the English, aided them, but there is no proof.”

“A despicable betrayal of his countrymen, if it is true.” It was with a sense of irony that Gregor realized Ivor Wallace was receiving some justice in this world already, for if he was at odds with his own son, his only son, it was what he deserved for his past misdeeds.

Just then a red-haired woman entered the storage room with two mugs of ale.

“Fiona.” Robert gestured her over and took the mugs.