Read Online Lessons in Loving a Laird by Michelle Marcos - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michelle Marcos
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loyal man, my lord. The moment I laid eyes upon the girls, and realized who they were, I knew that they must be returned to ye. I remembered yer reputation for rewarding such loyalty.”
“And how can ye be sure these are the right MacAslan girls?”
“If ye’re after Shona and Willow MacAslan, daughters of John MacAslan of Ravens Craig, then these are the right ones.” Hartopp relished seeing Duncan practically drooling for the prize that Hartopp held. “And they bear the mark of the slaighteur .”
Duncan licked his lips. “And where might I find them?”
Hartopp could almost feel his balls grow. “I’ll be happy to take ye to them, my lord. For a fee of ten thousand pounds.”
Duncan nodded his head, which had only started to thread with white. He kicked at a loose stone on the ground, overturning it to reveal a swarm of slithering worms.
Hartopp watched him do it. And by the time their eyes met again, the end of Duncan’s rifle was pointed at Hartopp’s belly.
The blood began to pound thickly in Hartopp’s head. His manic gaze flew from the muzzle of the rifle to Duncan’s face to the servants who pretended to be absorbed in the study of their shoes.
“Do ye know what happens to men who try to get the better of me, Hartopp? Their satisfaction never lasts long.”
Hartopp had two daggers on him, but he could reach neither one of them swiftly enough to defend himself against a man with a rifle. His only sure weapon was Duncan’s own greed. “Shoot me and ye’ll never get the information ye need.”
Duncan’s forehead dimpled with incredulity. “Shoot ye? I’m not going to shoot ye, man. Ye’re the one that’s going to take me to the MacAslan gels. For a fee of two thousand. Isn’t that the bargain betwixt us?”
Hartopp let out a ragged breath. “Aye. That’s the bargain.”
“Good. Let’s drink on it.”
A servant immediately poured two goblets full of whisky and served them up. The two men eyed each other over the rim of their glasses.
At that moment, breathless from running, Brandubh returned. “The fucking doe got beyond me.”
Duncan clapped Brandubh on the shoulder. “No matter, son. She’ll not be able to run forever. Leave her to the wild dogs. She’ll sate them for a while, and that’ll spare the sheep. We’ve got ourselves a new hunting expedition.”
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TWELVE
Shona jumped onto the seat of the cart and flicked the reins. Conall would be pleased today.
Market day had been long, but very profitable. The farmers on the eastern side of the estate had done well, even though her newest reforms would not show fruit until the spring harvest. The tenants handed over their quarterly sums—plus ten percent for those who’d received a subsidy from Conall—all of which was safely ensconced in a wooden box under her seat. Kieran and his cousin Fergus, a stout man who easily weighed three of Kieran, rode with her to safeguard the cache.
Conall had been so inexplicably distracted these past few days, and she knew he’d been laboring under financial concerns. She desperately wanted to put a smile on his face, and she was certain that the rent monies would do the trick. But she was especially thrilled to bring news of a discovery she’d made on the way to market. There, in Conall’s own park lands, were some large burls growing upon a smattering of larch and beech trees. These large growths upon the trees create a beautiful swirled grain to the lumber, used for artistic wood veneer. In London, this wood would undoubtedly fetch high prices from furniture makers and wood sculptors. Shona was excited to tell Conall that he had a cache of green gold growing right on his land.
Ever since that vulture Hartopp had been discharged, the farmers had become acquainted with a different picture of Conall. Conall had been trying so hard to be the honorable sort of landlord, the kind that tries to collaborate with the tenants as a partner, rather than as an
“And how can ye be sure these are the right MacAslan girls?”
“If ye’re after Shona and Willow MacAslan, daughters of John MacAslan of Ravens Craig, then these are the right ones.” Hartopp relished seeing Duncan practically drooling for the prize that Hartopp held. “And they bear the mark of the slaighteur .”
Duncan licked his lips. “And where might I find them?”
Hartopp could almost feel his balls grow. “I’ll be happy to take ye to them, my lord. For a fee of ten thousand pounds.”
Duncan nodded his head, which had only started to thread with white. He kicked at a loose stone on the ground, overturning it to reveal a swarm of slithering worms.
Hartopp watched him do it. And by the time their eyes met again, the end of Duncan’s rifle was pointed at Hartopp’s belly.
The blood began to pound thickly in Hartopp’s head. His manic gaze flew from the muzzle of the rifle to Duncan’s face to the servants who pretended to be absorbed in the study of their shoes.
“Do ye know what happens to men who try to get the better of me, Hartopp? Their satisfaction never lasts long.”
Hartopp had two daggers on him, but he could reach neither one of them swiftly enough to defend himself against a man with a rifle. His only sure weapon was Duncan’s own greed. “Shoot me and ye’ll never get the information ye need.”
Duncan’s forehead dimpled with incredulity. “Shoot ye? I’m not going to shoot ye, man. Ye’re the one that’s going to take me to the MacAslan gels. For a fee of two thousand. Isn’t that the bargain betwixt us?”
Hartopp let out a ragged breath. “Aye. That’s the bargain.”
“Good. Let’s drink on it.”
A servant immediately poured two goblets full of whisky and served them up. The two men eyed each other over the rim of their glasses.
At that moment, breathless from running, Brandubh returned. “The fucking doe got beyond me.”
Duncan clapped Brandubh on the shoulder. “No matter, son. She’ll not be able to run forever. Leave her to the wild dogs. She’ll sate them for a while, and that’ll spare the sheep. We’ve got ourselves a new hunting expedition.”
Demo version limitation
TWELVE
Shona jumped onto the seat of the cart and flicked the reins. Conall would be pleased today.
Market day had been long, but very profitable. The farmers on the eastern side of the estate had done well, even though her newest reforms would not show fruit until the spring harvest. The tenants handed over their quarterly sums—plus ten percent for those who’d received a subsidy from Conall—all of which was safely ensconced in a wooden box under her seat. Kieran and his cousin Fergus, a stout man who easily weighed three of Kieran, rode with her to safeguard the cache.
Conall had been so inexplicably distracted these past few days, and she knew he’d been laboring under financial concerns. She desperately wanted to put a smile on his face, and she was certain that the rent monies would do the trick. But she was especially thrilled to bring news of a discovery she’d made on the way to market. There, in Conall’s own park lands, were some large burls growing upon a smattering of larch and beech trees. These large growths upon the trees create a beautiful swirled grain to the lumber, used for artistic wood veneer. In London, this wood would undoubtedly fetch high prices from furniture makers and wood sculptors. Shona was excited to tell Conall that he had a cache of green gold growing right on his land.
Ever since that vulture Hartopp had been discharged, the farmers had become acquainted with a different picture of Conall. Conall had been trying so hard to be the honorable sort of landlord, the kind that tries to collaborate with the tenants as a partner, rather than as an
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