Read Online Love's Reckoning by Laura Frantz - Free Book Online Page B

silence. Silas shot a glance at Mrs. Lee, who was frowning at her eldest daughter. Eyes down, Eden began to spoon her soup with her bandaged hand as if nothing had been said.
    â€œSince Papa isn’t here, I’m not going to pretend he is.”Elspeth looked pointedly in her mother’s direction, rebellion in her gaze, before glancing at the empty doorway, her voice dropping a notch. “Besides, I know so little about Scotland. ’Tis a shame I’ve been no further than the outskirts of York County, not even to Philadelphia.”
    Swallowing some cider, Silas kept his tone low. “We Scots eat a great many things, like neeps and tatties, but prefer Cabbie claw and haggis.”
    â€œHa-haggis?” Elspeth echoed, taking up her spoon.
    â€œSheep’s pluck—heart, liver, lungs.”
    At this, Elspeth nearly choked on her soup. Eden’s mild expression turned amused. Beside her, Mrs. Lee looked slightly aghast, as well she should, Silas thought.
    â€œWell!” Elspeth recovered her composure. “’Tis glad I am we’re in America, then.”
    He nearly smiled. “You have no Scots in your family line?”
    Mrs. Lee brushed her lips with a napkin. “My people, the Gallatins, are from France—gunsmiths, all. The Lees—weavers and blacksmiths—hail from middle England.”
    â€œWell to the south of the barbarous Highlands,” he muttered, taking some bread.
    Mrs. Lee cast a skittish glance at him as if attempting to steer the conversation in a safer direction. “May I ask your father’s occupation?”
    â€œFiddler,” he said.
    Her eyebrows rose ever so slightly. Fiddler . . . drunkard . . . no-good vagabond. Silas well knew what she was thinking.
    â€œTo the duke of Atholl,” he added quietly.
    There was a surprised pause, spoons suspended in midair.
    â€œMy, you have noble associations.” Elspeth fixed her blue gaze on him. “How is it that you came to be here, among us common folk?”
    How, indeed. The question seemed edged in glass. Heavoided her probing and reached for the butter. “’Tis a long story best told away from table.”
    Though he sensed Mrs. Lee’s relief, he knew Elspeth’s curiosity was kindled. He saw it in her eyes, sensed she would be on his heels till every detail was spilled. For now she was looking at his hands—his branded thumbs—and he suspected she might ask about them outright.
    â€œAre you ever homesick for Scotland?” Eden was at his elbow, leaning toward him ever so slightly, her voice so soft he thought only he had heard. Till now she’d never said more than a mouthful of words to him, and he found her voice like all the rest of her—winsome and amiable and maddeningly hesitant. But before he could answer, Elspeth trounced on her question like a cat upon cream.
    â€œGood heavens, Eden. If Mr. Ballantyne longed for home, would he be here?” Elspeth all but rolled her eyes as she reached for the butter. “I think not.”
    Silas leaned back in his chair. “Aye, betimes I miss Scotlain.” He addressed Eden as quietly as she’d addressed him, aware that Elspeth strained to catch their every word. “But the longer I am here, the less I think of home.”
    Elspeth wedged her way into the conversation once again. “How long have you been in the colon—I mean, these United States?”
    â€œSince ’75—the eve of the Revolution.” Even as he said it, he could hardly believe the war was won. Or that he could return to his homeland if he wanted, though there was little to return to. As it was, his overriding passion to go west reduced that desire to ashes. Even now his eyes drifted past Eden’s russet head to the west window and the bleak, snow-laden landscape beyond.
    Elspeth’s strident voice drew him back to the table. “Do you find this part of Pennsylvania to your