Page 42 of Highland Renegade
“I’ve asked about and no one has seen your sheep.”
“Ye doona think someone would admit to reiving, do ye?” Ian asked.
Gavin shrugged. “I’ve ridden to our near pastures myself. I have not seen an increase to any flock.”
“That is so disappointing,” Emily said before the sparring could turn into a full argument. “Whatever do you think could have become of them?”
“My guess is that they were carted off to Loch Awe and shipped out.”
Rory narrowed his eyes. “Who told ye they werecartedaway?”
Emily felt her eyes widen. When he’d been summoned to Strae Castle, no one had said anything about the cart tracks Rory had found. She waited to see what the answer would be.
But Gavin just smiled easily. “It hardly takes a genius to deduce that two dozen sheep cannot just disappear. Either carts or wagons would have been waiting.”
She supposed he had a point, since she knew Ian had directed men to search for the sheep as well.
“Then why are ye here?” Alasdair asked.
Emily winced at the curt tone, but Gavin seemed to take it in stride.
“As I said the last time I was here, I planned to call on Lady Woodhaven.”
Ian took a step closer. “The countess is in mourning and nae receiving such calls.”
Her mouth dropped open and she closed it quickly, not sure if she should be angry that Ian would presume to dictate what she could do or that he was aware of Society’s custom of widow’s weeds. Not that she was wearing them.
Which apparently Gavin had noted as well. “Lady Woodhaven is not wearing black, if I might point that out.”
A soft sound, suspiciously like a growl, came from Ian. “’Tis nae always practical.”
“That is true,” Emily said quickly. “I needed to limit the wardrobe I brought.”
“And I would compliment you on doing so,” Gavin said. “The blue of your gown matches not only your eyes, but also the skies.”
Ian made that sound again. “Do ye want to throw in the loch as well? Her eyes are the same color as it.”
Emily blinked at him. He thought her eyes were blue as Loch Awe?
“Touche, MacGregor. I should have added that,” Gavin said, then gazed around the room. “Actually, I have come at my father’s behest. As a gesture of good will between our clans, he would like to invite all of you to a ball at Kilchurn once the harvest is in.”
“Oh! Aball! That would be lovely!” Lorelei clapped her hands happily and turned to Emily. “We can go, can’t we? Say that we can!”
“Well, I…” She looked at the MacGregor brothers quickly. Perhaps it was better that she make the decision. Not looking at Ian, she answered. “Of course. We would be delighted.”
“Good,” Gavin replied. “Then that is settled.”
But judging from the expressions on the MacGregor faces, which ranged from surprised to surly, she was pretty sure nothing was settled.
…
Over the next two weeks, Emily hardly saw Ian. Or, to be more precise, shesawhim as he was leaving each morning. With the harvesting of the barley under way, the brothers and both uncles rode out shortly after the sun rose and didn’t return until well after dusk.
Timing was critical, so they all worked alongside the crofters and clansmen. Emily tried to imagine a single aristocrat she knew who would actually help his groundskeeper at a country estate, let alone get his hands dirty working with the farmers who leased land. Even the “country gentry,” a notch below the aristocracy, weren’t inclined to do more than issue orders. Since she thought of herself as a practical, no-nonsense type of person, she was accumulating a great deal of respect for the independence of Scots.
Of course, no one had been inclined to invite her to accompany them—and she probably would have been more of a hindrance than a help, if she were honest with herself—but that didn’t stop her from following and observing from a distance.
She’d already learned the process of harvesting barley, having dragged the information from Donovan and Broderick. Once the barley turned golden and the peeled kernels hard to indent with a fingernail, the grain was ready to be cut. Then the stalks were arranged in small bundles, with ten bundles tied together to create sheaths that were erected to stand and dry.
