Page 105 of Seduced By the Reckless Highlanders
“I stayed out too late and I think I may have been seen by the cook or one of the kitchen maids as I came back in again. You know how much Missus Morrison dislikes me.”
This was true. Their head cook, Emily Morrison, had harbored a deep dislike of Minna since she was fifteen, when she had disliked one of her dishes and made it plain in no uncertainterms. This had earned the cook an extremely stern reprimand from her father in the form of a physical beating, and she had never forgiven Minna. Emily Morrisom was a champion grudge holder.
“I am terrified that one of them will tell my brother.” She took another sip of her whisky as she looked out of the window. Her bedroom overlooked the steep side of the hill and she could see the village and the haunted woods a little way away.
She knew in her sensible mind that there was no demon in the forest, yet something had always kept her away from it. “The villagers had a gift yesterday,” she told Lorna, turning away from the window to look at her friend again. “A deer. Someone had left it in the village for them. They all thanked me for it, but I was not responsible, and I told them so. Now I am wondering if it was a trap set by Jamie - you know how possessive he is about the game.” She paced towards the window again. “Damn, Lorna! I wish I knew how to change Jamie’s mind!”
Lorna folded her arms and gave Minna a thorough top-to-toe inspection. “Maybe ye can think about it while ye are in the bath,” she suggested.
CHAPTER 8
“Oh, it is you,” Jamie said scornfully as he looked up at the individual who had just walked cautiously into his study. He had been perusing the account books, a complete waste of time because he had no idea what the columns of numbers meant. “What do you want? Do you have information for me?”
The man in front of him shifted from foot to foot and smiled nervously at him. “Aye, M’Laird,” he replied, then squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. “One o’ your deer has been killed an’ eaten. I spoke tae some o’ the village folk an’ they say it was your sister that did it. They said that she didnae want tae take credit for it, though, an’ said it wisnae her that did it.”
Jamie felt a boiling anger well up within him. “My sister is always messing about with those bloody people! But it can't have been her who killed the beast because she has no idea how to use a bow and arrow.”
“Somebody else could have done it, M’Laird,” the man suggested. “On her behalf, like. A lot o’ people like her an’ would be happy tae help her.”
“Damn!” Jamie thumped his fist onto the desk so hard that the loud bang made the man jump. His face was almost purplewith rage. “The interfering wench! The game on my estate ismine!”
The man looked at the floor, too afraid to raise his eyes to the Laird. He was beginning to cringe and unconsciously move backwards. Jamie jumped up and moved around the desk so quickly that the man barely had time to move. The Laird pushed him up against the wall and opened his mouth to give the terrified man another tirade when there was a firm rap on the door.
“Listen to me,” Jamie growled, letting go of his spy. “You will not be paid until I get some information about whoever shot that deer. No one is going to steal from me. Now get out!” He wrenched the door open and thrust the man outside and he almost collided with the tall, gaunt figure who stood on the other side.
Jamie glared at the big man from under his lowered brows. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“Not a very polite way to greet a guest,” came a deep, dry voice. “My name is Alan Darroch. I am a cousin of your late father, and one of the elders of his clan. I have come to give you some advice.”
Jamie stepped aside to let the big man into the room, then ushered him into a chair in front of the desk, scowling fiercely.
“Jamie Darroch,” he said, doing his best to be polite. He sat down, but Alan Darroch’s presence was very intimidating, and he found himself swallowing nervously as a pair of deep green eyes bored into his. He pasted a smile onto his face. “Would you like a glass of whisky before we talk?”
Alan scowled at him. “Nor at this time of day,M’Laird,” he replied. His sarcastic emphasis on the word ‘Laird’ was not lost on Jamie. “Perhaps later, after I have eaten. That is the proper time for whisky, don’t you think? But this is your castle, so I can't tell you what to do.”
Jamie put the whisky bottle down, feeling about two feet tall. “Of course,” he agreed, then sat down. “What can I do for you?”
“When your father took over this estate it was a jewel,” Alan said, putting his elbows on the desk and leaning forward for emphasis. “It ran well, the tenants were happy, and the land was productive. Look at it now. It is falling to pieces.” He leaned back in his chair again to give Jamie another intimidating stare out of narrowed eyes, and Jamie was reminded of a snake that was about to strike.
At that moment, Alan Darroch’s gaze fell on the account ledgers. Jamie panicked and slammed his hands down on the books, trying to drag them towards himself, but it was too late. Alan’s grip was much stronger than his and he wrested the books out of Jamie’s grasp without much of an effort.
Jamie watched as he scrutinized all the columns of figures minutely, seeing his face reddening and his expression growing more and more thunderous by the second. Eventually he looked up. “Is this your only ledger?” he asked. There was a dangerous throb of barely restrained anger in his voice.
Jamie shook his head. He had assumed a collected, composed posture, seated primly behind the desk with his elbows leaning on it, hands clasped together, head held high. “No, of course not.” He allowed a trace of indignation to creep into his voice.
“May I see the others?” Darroch asked politely.
“No, you may not,” Jamie replied in the same tone.
“I see.” Darroch’s tone was one of resignation. This was the answer he had expected. Sadly, apart from physically dragging Jamie out of the castle and giving him the sound thrashing he so richly deserved, there was nothing he could do about it. He had been told what to expect, but the reality was much worse than he had imagined. “If all the rest of your accounts are as much in shambles as these ones are, then I suggest you hire a steward.”
Jamie smiled smugly. “I have one. He works for me and he worked for my father too.”
“Then fire him and employ someone who can do the job properly!” Alan thundered. “Good God, lad! Look at the state this place is in! Walls crumbling, weeds running riot everywhere, roofs falling in. When was the last time you got out of your chair and had a look around this place? Your father seized this estate when the mistress of the castle was still in mourning, and the place was in good condition. Presumably he had some idea of using it for something. Are you just going to sit here and let it rot? Your tenants are suffering - have you no means to help them or are you already bankrupt? Open your coffers to your people, for God’s sake! Let them work the land - it will pay you in the end.”
“When it is your estate, then you can tell me what to do!” Jamie spat. “You and my sister must be in league with each other - she never stops giving me wise counsel either, even though she has no clue what she is talking about!” His voice was bitter. “Now, is there anything else you came to say before you go?”
Alan Darroch stood up. “I will inform the chief in Dundee of your words,” he said grimly. “He may want to come and see you himself.”
