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and ran down the stairs. Someone else could serve him his breakfast, she’d had enough.
     
    Brice stared after the fiery housekeeper for a moment, before picking up the horn spoon to make a start on his supper. He had enjoyed teasing her and although she probably wasn’t the one responsible for the ill treatment he’d received so far, she wasn’t helping either. She deserved a little shock , he told himself.
    When he’d first seen her that afternoon, she had been dishevelled and in working clothes, presumably because of helping with the laundry. This evening she had dressed with more care in a skirt and bodice which, although threadbare and not of the latest fashion, showed off her perfect figure and flawless skin. Not to mention a pair of very fine green eyes, outlined with dark lashes. He would have had to be made of stone not to be affected by the sight of her, red hair or not.
    He wasn’t interested in finding a wife any longer, but that didn’t mean he intended to live like a monk. He’d spent enough time in his brother’s company to know there were plenty of women who were willing to offer more than flirtatious glances. And he’d been perfectly serious when he told Marsaili the so-called respectable ladies were the best. They were usually starved of real love-making by husbands who only used them as breeding cows. A man who knew how to pleasure them could reap the benefits without risk of being leg-shackled. As long as said husband didn’t find out, of course.
    Brice didn’t want to think about his brother, but had to admit he was indebted to Jamie when it came to such matters. And since he’d found out about Elisabet’s betrayal, he’d decided to make good use of this knowledge. He should have listened to Jamie on that score as well – women were only there for temporary enjoyment. They were all treacherous bitches, especially the beautiful ones.
    He swallowed down a gristly lump of mutton and tried not to choke on it or the feelings of anger that welled up inside him yet again. They can never hurt me now , he thought savagely. I won’t let them .
    Use the ladies who were willing, but don’t get caught, that would be his motto from now on.
     
    As Mr Aaron rode out of the gates and down through the township, Seton stared after him for as long as he was visible, then spat into the dust.
    ‘ Good riddance,’ he muttered and headed back towards the house. His son Iain had been hovering behind him, and fell into step beside him. In his mid-twenties, the boy was slightly taller than his father, but not by much. Thank goodness he doesn’t tower over me like that Englishman , Seton thought. That would be unbearable. He added, ‘I’m getting tired of these Sassenach’s snooping around. They’ve nothing to find here.’
    ‘ Are you sure he was English?’ Iain asked. ‘I heard him put on quite a creditable Scots accent.’
    Seton sneered. ‘Not creditable enough. You could hear quite clearly he wasn’t from around here. No, I’m sure.’
    Mr Aaron had set his teeth on edge. The man had eyes that seemed to see all too much and Seton mistrusted the easy charm and pretended good humour. These were all the tricks of someone who was after something.
    ‘ I wonder why he came,’ Iain said. ‘I mean, no one’s been here for ages now. I thought they’d lost interest in the Rosyth estate.’
    Seton shrugged. ‘Who knows? Mayhap they’ve passed some new law whereby they can annex the holdings of absent landlords. It makes no difference to us though, we’ll soon have our own back. Then the Kinross family can fend for themselves.’
    Iain frowned at this comment. ‘You’re not still hoping the government will give us back Bailliebroch, are you? It’s not going to happen.’
    ‘ I know that well enough. Naturally I’d have preferred to be given it for nothing, but we’ll soon be able to buy it back and I doubt they’ll refuse to take our money.’
    ‘ Our money?’ Iain raised an eyebrow at his