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Authors: Gayle Callen
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get used to.
It took a moment before he realized that he wasn’t alone. Seated in a chair beside the empty hearth was his uncle Harold. Unlike Owen’s father and another uncle, this brother was the one who’d stayed behind to oversee the clan holdings. True, he had factors and tacksmen to deal with the land and the rents, but Harold was the de facto chief, on guard against McCallum or Campbell incursions. He was the man the clan had looked to for guidance and protection, not the late earl. Gruff and deliberate, Harold spoke only when he had something to say.
Owen felt his uncle watching him, evaluating him, waiting to see the kind of chief he’d be. And since he’d barely cracked a smile in Owen’s direction, he guessed his uncle wasn’t all that impressed yet. Owen wasn’t about to tell him that he’d arranged his own marriage to a woman desperate to get out of it.
“Uncle Harold,” Owen said, nodding a greeting ashe moved past and went to his desk. “Did I forget an appointment?” he asked.
Harold harrumphed. “Ye ken ye didn’t, lad.”
“Lad” made Owen feel like he was ten again, when his uncle had caught him using a magnifying glass to start a dry leaf on fire, and his protest that he was only studying the lens hadn’t mattered.
“I’ve received word from the foreman of your coal mine near Stirling. He said ye’ve been exchanging letters about a fancy mechanical thing?”
“A Newcomen engine,” Owen said with satisfaction.
“The foreman seems a mite suspicious.”
“The engine is a new way to remove water from a wet mine, Uncle. When it arrives, we’ll all have a demonstration of the power of steam. The machine calls for water heated in a cylinder to produce steam and . . .” Owen trailed off when he noticed his uncle’s bushy brows lower with disinterest and impatience. “Thank you for the message. I’ll answer the foreman. Is there something else you wish?”
Harold eyed him skeptically. “Is there anything else ye need to tell me about taking the McCallum girl to wife? I ken ye used to battle with your father over the right to choose your own bride, so I never expected this.”
“Neither did I,” Owen said dryly. “I never wanted to be forced to marry, and I was not. It was my choice to honor the contract between our families.”
“But will ye be happy?” Harold asked softly.
Owen stared at him for a long moment, then admittedwith a trace of bitterness, “My happiness doesn’t matter, Uncle. I cannot allow innocent people to suffer when it was my father who proved so dishonorable where this marriage contract was concerned.” He forced down his anger. “At least she is not a stranger.” He deliberately opened an account book and looked at a column of numbers without really seeing them. His uncle was too good at reading the eyes of men.
“And that is all ye hoped for in a bride, that ye’d met her?” Harold asked shrewdly.
Owen didn’t answer.
“And is that same requirement enough for her?”
“What does it matter?” Owen asked bitterly.
Harold sighed. “Sorry I am that your father forced ye into this. He was always more concerned for himself than anyone else, even his children.”
Sympathy was not something Owen needed. “Is there anything else, Uncle?”
Harold let out a breath. “When will ye be returning to London?”
Owen leaned back in the leather upholstered chair and regarded his war chief. “Not until January at the earliest, whenever Parliament is in session. Why?”
“Ye’ll be here that long?”
“I said I would,” Owen answered dryly. “I can understand why you might not believe me, since my father preferred England to Scotland. Much as I see the appeal of the country to our south, I prefer the Highlands and will remain here as much as I can.”
Harold gave another harrumph as he slapped his hands to his thighs and pushed to his feet. His plaid swung from his shoulder, where it was gathered with a brooch. But instead of
It took a moment before he realized that he wasn’t alone. Seated in a chair beside the empty hearth was his uncle Harold. Unlike Owen’s father and another uncle, this brother was the one who’d stayed behind to oversee the clan holdings. True, he had factors and tacksmen to deal with the land and the rents, but Harold was the de facto chief, on guard against McCallum or Campbell incursions. He was the man the clan had looked to for guidance and protection, not the late earl. Gruff and deliberate, Harold spoke only when he had something to say.
Owen felt his uncle watching him, evaluating him, waiting to see the kind of chief he’d be. And since he’d barely cracked a smile in Owen’s direction, he guessed his uncle wasn’t all that impressed yet. Owen wasn’t about to tell him that he’d arranged his own marriage to a woman desperate to get out of it.
“Uncle Harold,” Owen said, nodding a greeting ashe moved past and went to his desk. “Did I forget an appointment?” he asked.
Harold harrumphed. “Ye ken ye didn’t, lad.”
“Lad” made Owen feel like he was ten again, when his uncle had caught him using a magnifying glass to start a dry leaf on fire, and his protest that he was only studying the lens hadn’t mattered.
“I’ve received word from the foreman of your coal mine near Stirling. He said ye’ve been exchanging letters about a fancy mechanical thing?”
“A Newcomen engine,” Owen said with satisfaction.
“The foreman seems a mite suspicious.”
“The engine is a new way to remove water from a wet mine, Uncle. When it arrives, we’ll all have a demonstration of the power of steam. The machine calls for water heated in a cylinder to produce steam and . . .” Owen trailed off when he noticed his uncle’s bushy brows lower with disinterest and impatience. “Thank you for the message. I’ll answer the foreman. Is there something else you wish?”
Harold eyed him skeptically. “Is there anything else ye need to tell me about taking the McCallum girl to wife? I ken ye used to battle with your father over the right to choose your own bride, so I never expected this.”
“Neither did I,” Owen said dryly. “I never wanted to be forced to marry, and I was not. It was my choice to honor the contract between our families.”
“But will ye be happy?” Harold asked softly.
Owen stared at him for a long moment, then admittedwith a trace of bitterness, “My happiness doesn’t matter, Uncle. I cannot allow innocent people to suffer when it was my father who proved so dishonorable where this marriage contract was concerned.” He forced down his anger. “At least she is not a stranger.” He deliberately opened an account book and looked at a column of numbers without really seeing them. His uncle was too good at reading the eyes of men.
“And that is all ye hoped for in a bride, that ye’d met her?” Harold asked shrewdly.
Owen didn’t answer.
“And is that same requirement enough for her?”
“What does it matter?” Owen asked bitterly.
Harold sighed. “Sorry I am that your father forced ye into this. He was always more concerned for himself than anyone else, even his children.”
Sympathy was not something Owen needed. “Is there anything else, Uncle?”
Harold let out a breath. “When will ye be returning to London?”
Owen leaned back in the leather upholstered chair and regarded his war chief. “Not until January at the earliest, whenever Parliament is in session. Why?”
“Ye’ll be here that long?”
“I said I would,” Owen answered dryly. “I can understand why you might not believe me, since my father preferred England to Scotland. Much as I see the appeal of the country to our south, I prefer the Highlands and will remain here as much as I can.”
Harold gave another harrumph as he slapped his hands to his thighs and pushed to his feet. His plaid swung from his shoulder, where it was gathered with a brooch. But instead of
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