Page 47 of A Sinful Night with a Scot
While he had no intention of allowing anything to happen to Elsie, he had to keep a straight head. He could not allow the laird to use his own feelings against him. As difficult as it was proving to be, he had to remain aloof. For his own sake, and the sake of his clan.
Standing erect and staring down at her, he said, “I am going tae the village tae deal with some issues. Nae doubt, I will see ye fer supper.”
His sudden abruptness surprised her. It also seemed to upset her, for pain flashed in her eyes, as though his words had physically injured her. It took a second for her to recover, particularly when Keane remained stoic in his stance.
And then, she said. “I would like tae come with ye.”
At that moment, Alisdair entered the room.
“Nay,” Keane replied firmly. “There have been sightings o’ Laird Gunn’s men in the lands. ‘Tis safer fer ye tae remain here.”
But his words seemed to incense her, and pushing her shoulders back, she lifted her chin.
“And how will me cowering in the castle look tae the clan? I am now Lady Mackay, am I nae? Was that stone ceremony last night nae meant tae welcome me tae Clan Mackay? How can the clan welcome me, if they never see me because I am hiding behindthese walls?” she pressed, her arm sweeping in the general direction of the windows behind her.
Keane heaved a sigh. There was a rumbling notion in his gut that she was playing him. Using her newfound position, a position he had forced her into, and his own words, against him.
She’s a smart one.
Indeed, she was.
Alisdair, who had been listening to the back and forth, decided to offer his opinion.
“Ye said yersel’, Keane, that the attack wouldnae be today. Let her join us. It’ll dae the villagers good tae meet her.”
Keane looked from Elsie to Alisdair and back again. It was two against one. Not that those odds had ever been a problem before, but a part of him could not be bothered arguing. Besides, Alisdair was right. They were only travelling a few miles.
A little over an hour later, Keane, Alisdair, and Elsie entered Larsen. The village was like any other small inhabited place. Cobbled streets underfoot ran to houses that spanned out from the main hub in every direction. It had everything a village needed. A blacksmith, a carpenter, a bakery, farmers, and a healer, as well as a fine tavern. Which is where they were headed.
John Flatley was a good man with a supportive wife and a nice family. But the inn-keeper was behind on his taxes, and Keane wanted to know why. Keane had learned how to deal with such people from his father’s example. Unlike other lairds, who might send men to pressure those on their lands to pay what they owed, his father had a different approach.
“People are nae different wherever ye go, son,” Hamilton had said.
It was a warm afternoon as they travelled across the glen together. They were returning back to the castle after visiting a farmer who owed the laird coin. On their visit, Keane had watched as his father had sat and kindly talked to the man, trying to discover why.
“Nay man likes tae be in debt. It demeans him when he owes another. It takes his power away, and, fer the most part, a man will dae whatever he can tae pay what he owes so he can avoid such shame. And thus,” his father had continued, “when ye come across a man like Joseph, a man who works hard tae feed his family, a man who takes pride in his life and his work, ye ken that his lack o’ payment isnae from choice.”
Keane remembered that lesson from all those years ago. When he had been forced, far too early, to take his father’s place, he had employed the same level of understanding. His people did not serve him, he served his people, and thus, John Flatley’s problem was now Keane’s concern.
John welcomed them nervously when the three entered the tavern.
“Me laird,” he said, clearly surprised to see him. “Please, come in. Let me get ye an ale.” He turned to Soirsche, his wife, who hovered behind him. “Get some bread and stew.”
But Keane swiped a dismissive hand. “An ale will be fine, John. An ale, and a conversation.”
“Aye, aye, o’ course,” John said hurriedly, reaching for the tankards.
Elsie and Alisdair settled themselves at a table against the far wall, nearer to the fire. Noticing other patrons sitting about, Keane moved to a table in the corner, away from prying eyes and itchy ears.
“Ye ken why I am here,” Keane began. “Tell me why ye’re behind in yer payments?”
John went on to relay a whole list of issues. One of his children had been sick. Then a batch of ale was bad, losing him money. Then his wife's sister was ill, and they had helped to pay for her medicine. With one thing following the other, he had struggled to makes ends meet, and felt overwhelmed.
Keane listened carefully. The more he heard, the more sorrow he felt for John. Clearly, he had gone through a run of bad luck.
“I’m sorry, me laird,” John murmured, displaying the very shame Keane’s father had talked about. “I would never withhold what I owe if I had it. Things have just gone from bad tae worse this while.”
Keane nodded. “I can see that. Then, let us mak’ an arrangement that will ease yer troubles. At least until things begin evening out fer ye.”
