Page 7 of Falling for Her Highland Steward
Erin was pouring them all a glass of Languedoc wine as she spoke. “That is true, but tell your friend that I have the best wine cellar in the Highlands. That may change his mind!” She laughed, then she frowned grimly. “Although I doubt that there will be much more of this unless things change for the better!”
“He loves wine,” Michael laughed. “And we will give the wine cellar top priority!”
“What is his name?” Erin asked curiously. “And what if I don’t like him?”
“Caillen Johnstone,” he replied. “And you will like him, I promise.”
Michael left the next day, but Erin was determined not to waste her time while he was gone. She had seen some very obvious problems, like the crumbling castle wall, that she could fix at once, so she set about doing so, and the sense of purpose lifted her spirits enormously. It was heartening to see the defenses whole and strong again.
She had also decided that it was time the tenants met their new laird, so after choosing four of her best guards to accompany her, she set out to make the rounds of the estate.
“Milady!” The first tenant she met, an elderly widow called Eileen Canning, came out of her cottage and gave Erin a clumsy curtsy, her face wearing an expression of astonishment. “How are ye? I am sorry for yer loss.”
Erin smiled at the old lady. “I am very well under the circumstances, Mistress Canning, thank you. I hope you are well too.”
“No, milady!” The old lady frowned. “I am no’ sae good. I have a few concerns. Will ye come in?” She stood aside to let Erin pass through the door to the cottage.
“I am so sorry,” Erin replied regretfully. “I hope your worries are not too great. I have brought you something.” She handed over a hessian-wrapped parcel and watched Eileen Canning’s face.
The old lady took the package from Erin’s hands but did not unwrap it. Instead, she tossed it on a rough wooden table, then she pointed upward to the thatched roof of her cottage. There, Erin could see a hole about a foot round, through which she could feel the wind from outside chilling the air in the small room. “I have been waitin’ for this tae be fixed for weeks,” she said angrily. Instead, it is just gettin’ bigger an’ bigger. Wi’ the winter comin’ in, I am goin’ tae freeze as well as get drenched.” She pointed to the wooden bucket underneath the hole, which was almost full of dirty water.
“I am so sorry, Mistress Canning.” Erin felt dreadful, as well as angry and frustrated. How could Nairn have allowed things to deteriorate like this? This old lady had so little, and Erin had so much, and the little she had was being taken away from her as they spoke. “I will have it attended to at once. Is there anything else you want me to do?”
“Aye, milady.” Mistress Canning’s voice was almost a growl. She pushed past Erin again and pointed to a large spruce tree that had one enormous half-broken branch leaning over the widow’s cottage. “That broke in the last storm. I havenae the tools tae take it down, an’ I have asked for help ’til I am blue in the face, but naebody wants tae help a poor widow. If that branch comes doon, the cottage will be knocked doon.”
“This is disgraceful!” Erin cried furiously. “I am ashamed that things have gone so far. Rest assured, there will be a worker here to bring it down tomorrow, mistress. I will see to it myself.
“I have brought you something. It will not make up for the injustice of your situation, but I hope you enjoy it.”
The widow’s mouth formed an O of amazement as she looked at the contents of the package that Erin had opened for her. Inside there were two oranges, a wedge of cheese, and a chicken big enough to feed a whole family.
“Milady!” Eileen picked out one of the oranges and held it up so that its brightness shone in the daylight. “Is this an orange?”
“Indeed it is, Mistress Canning,” Erin replied, grinning. “They are the last of a gift we received from one of my husband’s suppliers. Enjoy them.”
“God bless ye, milady,” Eileen said thankfully, and smiled for the first time. “I am glad ye came.”
Erin smiled and left. Oranges were precious things to give away, but she was glad to do so for the sake of the smile on the old lady’s face.
After she had seen a few more of her tenant farmers that day, Erin was exhausted and miserable since things were even worse than she had thought. All the tenants she had seen were grumbling, and there was a general air of gloom and discontent amongst them. She paid a brief visit to Stephen, only to discover that he was asleep.
“How has he been, Betty?” she asked as she looked down tenderly at her son’s sleeping face. “Has he cried?”
“No, milady, he is his usual self,” Betty answered. “He is too young tae be really upset by the laird’s passing. I dinnae think it will hurt him too much. He is far more worried about playin’ wi’ Brian Donaldson’s puppy!”
Erin laughed softly. “Good, I am glad, and I hope it stays that way. He has plenty of time to understand sadness. Go to bed, Betty. No doubt he will be up at the crack of dawn wanting to play with the dogs again!”
“Aye, he’s a wee tinker, right enough!” Betty agreed, laughing. “Goodnight, milady.” She curtsied then disappeared into her own room, which was right next to Stephen’s, in case he should need her in the night.
Erin looked down at Stephen’s face, his softly rounded cheeks, tousled brown hair, and long dark eyelashes, wondering what mischief he was getting up to in his boyish dreams. She marveled, as she so often did, about the fierce love that had filled her as soon as she had seen him for the first time. In a single instant, he had become her whole world.
Her own mother had once told her that when she gave birth to a child, she would be a mother to the whole world, and it was true. Erin could not bear to see harm done to any child now. Parenthood had brought out the tigress inside her.
She kissed Stephen’s forehead and tiptoed out of the room, only looking back once to smile at him, then she went to bed and slept as soon as her head hit the pillow. She was too exhausted to do otherwise.
“Are you willing to take the position?” Michael asked his friend anxiously. They were sitting at a tavern called the Black Swan near the tollbooth in Glasgow, enjoying some freshly caught mackerel from the River Clyde. “If you need to be beside a big river, the Tay is only half a day’s ride away. It is even bigger than the Clyde.”
Caillen Johnstone reached for his third bannock and smiled at his friend. “Do you think you will be able to afford me?” His dark brown eyes were twinkling. “I tend to eat and drink rather a lot.”
