Page 13 of The Highlander's Auctioned Bride
Wallace wasted no time, his voice booming across the hall; no sense of nerves from him at all. He was authoritative and bold, a similar presence to MacLennan, but far less impressive to look at.
“Ye have two servants in the house who dinnae work well together,” he bellowed. “They are disruptin’ the order of how things are done. When ye confront them, one of them accuses the other of bein’ too domineerin’ and commandin’. How dae ye resolve this dispute?”
Her father leaned over to advise her again, but to her surprise, the losing answer had come to her immediately. She nodded sagely as her father retreated to his seat.
As before, the solutions the other girls offered were fairly typical—all of them focusing on the authority they would need to have over their servants. One of them even suggested firing both of the servants on the spot.
“Give them a dual position,” she said when it came to her turn.
MacLennan’s brow raised in cold curiosity. Wallace cocked his head at her in puzzlement.
“Well,” Maisie said carefully, “ye have a battle of wills between the two of them. If it werethiscastle,” she mused, “there would always be more work to get done than is manageable. I would make them work together but divide the staff between them. That way, the domineerin’ servant has authority and is nae longer antagonisin’ the staff that are nae assigned to her, and the other servant doesnae have to deal with her all day.”
There was a little titter of laughter at that. She paused, glancing about her. “Conflict doesnae disappear. It is best to find a compromise—it is nae use pittin’ people against one another.”
She glared at MacLennan as she said those words, knowing full well he would understand her double meaning about the contest.
MacLennan was difficult to read. His calculating gaze was still examining her closely, and his expression was devoid of emotion. Bram Wallace, on the other hand, looked like he had eaten something unpleasant and was giving MacLennan a meaningful look.
I am sure if it were up to Bram Wallace I’d be leavin’ now. How much sway does MacLennan’s council have over him?She wondered nervously.
With her answer finished and her jibe at the laird complete, she took her seat again.
The third man to come forward was extremely old, rising from the table with a crippling bend in his back. He had gray hair down to his shoulders, with drooping eyes and a watery smile.
He took an age clearing his throat and unfolding the paper before beginning. Even MacLennan looked as though he was losing patience with him by the end.
“One of yer sons is avoidin’ his trainin’ and the man-at-arms has informed ye, that he shirks his lessons and runs away regularly. How would ye discipline him and motivate him to dae his work?”
The other girls talked about solutions such as giving a child a few lashes, a stern talking to, or depriving him of meals—that last from Lillian.
Maisie could only imagine that a laird like MacLennan with his size and strength would favor discipline over everything else. She was going to give an answer he would never approve of, then it would be done, and she could go home.
“Let him play games,” she said simply.
MacLennan stilled in his place and Maisie felt a thrill of triumph at the surprise on his face. There was no possibility he would favor her answer, a laird needed his house to fall in line.
“Could you… elaborate, my dear?” the elderly councilman asked.
“Indulge him,” she said with a shrug. “Let him play games, butonlylet him play games,” she continued. “He will be entertained at first, but if ye forbid him from work or study, eventually he’ll grow bored and desire the structure they would bring.”
It was not a scenario she had ever seen put into practice. Many of the few friends she had had growing up had spoken of the ‘sound lashing’ their father had inflicted upon them. She wondered what MacLennan’s childhood might have been like. He was certainly a stern and unemotional man.
By the look of the councilors, who all seemed thoroughly confused, Maisie was content that she had done enough. Sherelaxed with the satisfaction of a job well done.Thank goodness, soon this will all be over.
“Very well, Miss Brown,” the elderly man croaked. “what a notion indeed. We thank ye.”
Marcus got to his feet, his arms spread wide along the table.
“Aye!” he cried. “We thank all ye ladies for yer participation. We’ll discuss it with the laird, and we’ll announce his chosen bride shortly.”
The men all rose from their seats and marched out of a side door into another room to deliberate. Maisie sipped her wine, certain that she had lost. All of her answers were quite different from those of the other ladies, and she had received a fair few disapproving glances from several mamas. Surely, she had done enough.
She looked at the empty chair that the laird had left behind him and was surprised to feel something stir within her, something that feltalmostlike regret.
She tamped it down.I dinnae ken the man and I dinnae wish to.
“Maisie,” her father said, “I wish ye had let me help ye. Yer answers were a bit…”
