your grandmother keeping you busy?”
“Aye, Laird. I’m to stack bricks of peat in all the rooms ye like t’ use.”
“Ach, is that all?” Hugh asked. “A fine, strapping lad as yourself should have much bigger tasks than that, eh?”
“I have more, Laird,” Ronan replied. “I’ll be sweeping the kitchen and back halls after me gran’s done wi’ the cookin’.”
“Then you’ll be earning this, too,” Hugh said. Hereached into his pocket and took out some coins, then handed them to the boy. “Give these to your mother.”
Ronan’s pale brown eyes lit up with excitement. “Thank ye, Laird. She’ll be verra grateful to ye.”
Hugh added another coin to the boy’s hand. “Here’s one to keep for yourself.”
The boy smiled broadly, and before he scampered off, calling to his grandmother, he gave Hugh another gleeful thanks.
Hugh turned his attention back to Miss MacLaren and found her eyeing him quizzically. “He belongs to one of Mrs. Ramsay’s daughters.”
“I see,” she said with a hint of bewildered admiration in her eyes, as though she could not quite credit that he could be kind or generous.
But times were difficult for Falkburn folk. The free trading eased their poverty, but even that was failing them now. Hugh’s father wouldn’t have given a moment’s thought to their troubles, but Hugh had promised himself at an early age to do exactly the opposite of what Jasper would do in any given situation.
He stood and went to Brianna’s chair. Draping the shawl over her shoulders, Hugh lifted her hair, allowing it to fall softly down her back. He lingered behind her, sliding his hands down her arms, thinking of all the ways he wanted her.
Later, when the servants had gone and they were alone together, he would finish what he’d begun the night before. There was no doubt she’d wanted him then. He’d not mistaken her ardor, and he looked forward to wooing her into his bed. An uncertain future inDundee could hardly compare with the arrangement he intended to offer her.
He was in need of a mistress, and a sweet governess or lady’s maid was exactly the kind of lover that suited him, even though she might not yet be aware of it. This one was passionate and responsive, and would be freshly uninhibited once she let go of her nervousness. He’d tasted her desire, and he knew she was wary. But he did not doubt that he could convince her to stay at Glenloch with him. He looked forward to the next few days of becoming intimately acquainted with beautiful Bridget.
Hugh had already concluded that she had no involvement in the theft of his brandy. Her grief at the mention of her aunt had been quite real, and her story of an aggressive employer rang true.
He was quite content to be the man who offered her comfort and solace.
“Who is the ghost, Laird?” Bridget asked. “Or…who was she?”
Hugh was hesitant to tell the story, but he finally repeated what he’d always heard. “According to legend, she was the wife of an ancient Glenloch free trader. An unwilling, unhappy wife.” A wife just like Amelia, no doubt. He put aside his suspicion that the ancient, legendary wife had also thrown herself from the parapet of the north tower to the ruins below.
“What does she want?”
Hugh shrugged and decided to tell her the truth. If she was going to stay with him at the castle, he did notwant her jumping at every creak and odd reflection of light. “ ’Tis only a legend. There is no ghost.”
Bridget shivered and drew the shawl tightly around her shoulders. “I saw it. Or something.”
“ ’Tis not possible.”
“I think it beckoned to me.”
“Well, don’t follow it,” Hugh said, humoring her. He lowered his head, placing his mouth close to her ear. “This morn, you should follow me.”
“Laird?”
“Through Glenloch. There is much to see in this ancient pile of stones.” A tour was just the thing to keep her occupied while Mrs. Ramsay and her staff performed their
“Aye, Laird. I’m to stack bricks of peat in all the rooms ye like t’ use.”
“Ach, is that all?” Hugh asked. “A fine, strapping lad as yourself should have much bigger tasks than that, eh?”
“I have more, Laird,” Ronan replied. “I’ll be sweeping the kitchen and back halls after me gran’s done wi’ the cookin’.”
“Then you’ll be earning this, too,” Hugh said. Hereached into his pocket and took out some coins, then handed them to the boy. “Give these to your mother.”
Ronan’s pale brown eyes lit up with excitement. “Thank ye, Laird. She’ll be verra grateful to ye.”
Hugh added another coin to the boy’s hand. “Here’s one to keep for yourself.”
The boy smiled broadly, and before he scampered off, calling to his grandmother, he gave Hugh another gleeful thanks.
Hugh turned his attention back to Miss MacLaren and found her eyeing him quizzically. “He belongs to one of Mrs. Ramsay’s daughters.”
“I see,” she said with a hint of bewildered admiration in her eyes, as though she could not quite credit that he could be kind or generous.
But times were difficult for Falkburn folk. The free trading eased their poverty, but even that was failing them now. Hugh’s father wouldn’t have given a moment’s thought to their troubles, but Hugh had promised himself at an early age to do exactly the opposite of what Jasper would do in any given situation.
He stood and went to Brianna’s chair. Draping the shawl over her shoulders, Hugh lifted her hair, allowing it to fall softly down her back. He lingered behind her, sliding his hands down her arms, thinking of all the ways he wanted her.
Later, when the servants had gone and they were alone together, he would finish what he’d begun the night before. There was no doubt she’d wanted him then. He’d not mistaken her ardor, and he looked forward to wooing her into his bed. An uncertain future inDundee could hardly compare with the arrangement he intended to offer her.
He was in need of a mistress, and a sweet governess or lady’s maid was exactly the kind of lover that suited him, even though she might not yet be aware of it. This one was passionate and responsive, and would be freshly uninhibited once she let go of her nervousness. He’d tasted her desire, and he knew she was wary. But he did not doubt that he could convince her to stay at Glenloch with him. He looked forward to the next few days of becoming intimately acquainted with beautiful Bridget.
Hugh had already concluded that she had no involvement in the theft of his brandy. Her grief at the mention of her aunt had been quite real, and her story of an aggressive employer rang true.
He was quite content to be the man who offered her comfort and solace.
“Who is the ghost, Laird?” Bridget asked. “Or…who was she?”
Hugh was hesitant to tell the story, but he finally repeated what he’d always heard. “According to legend, she was the wife of an ancient Glenloch free trader. An unwilling, unhappy wife.” A wife just like Amelia, no doubt. He put aside his suspicion that the ancient, legendary wife had also thrown herself from the parapet of the north tower to the ruins below.
“What does she want?”
Hugh shrugged and decided to tell her the truth. If she was going to stay with him at the castle, he did notwant her jumping at every creak and odd reflection of light. “ ’Tis only a legend. There is no ghost.”
Bridget shivered and drew the shawl tightly around her shoulders. “I saw it. Or something.”
“ ’Tis not possible.”
“I think it beckoned to me.”
“Well, don’t follow it,” Hugh said, humoring her. He lowered his head, placing his mouth close to her ear. “This morn, you should follow me.”
“Laird?”
“Through Glenloch. There is much to see in this ancient pile of stones.” A tour was just the thing to keep her occupied while Mrs. Ramsay and her staff performed their
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