He seems a right strange man. Lookin’ at everythin’ like it scared him.
He had hardly spoken when they all ate together. Cicilia had his measure. He was proud, and despite the O’Donnel’s wealth, she guessed that he looked down on them for being only farmers.
His Man-at-arms, Nathair, was like day against Alexander’s night. Nathair had chatted brightly with them all, entertained the bairns until it was time to sleep, and just genuinely pleasant company. He might make a trustworthy friend, had Cicilia not known who he really was.
But the Laird! Well, he could take his pride and his nobility and drown in it, for all Cicilia cared.
It seemed awfully odd that a great Laird should travel all the way from the relative safety of the central clan and out to her farm with only one man for company. That thought alone was enough to put her on edge.
He’ll leave soon, an’ I will nae have to deal wi’ it. Just need to pretend Da’s away for a wee bit longer.
Still troubled, Cicilia pushed open the door to the kitchen, locating the source of the loud voices instantly. It wasn’t, as she’d initially suspected, an argument, but instead excited chatter.
Her housemaid, Katie, was sitting at the table loudly speculating about their visitors with Jeanie. Jeanie had apparently decided that it being so late should not mean she could not pay a visit.
“Katie, can ye go check on the bairns, please?” Cicilia asked pointedly.
The maid jumped and blushed. “Oh, Miss Cicilia, were we bein’ too loud? I’m sorry. I’ll be away now,” she said and hurried out of the room.
Cicilia waited until Katie’s footsteps retreated upstairs before taking a seat across from Jeanie. “Jean McCaul, why are ye here at such an hour?” she asked, though she didn’t even attempt to hide her smirk. Any time with her best friend was welcome.
“Och, dinnae ye pretend ye are nae happy to see me,” Jeanie grinned. Her long brown hair was carelessly thrown in a single large braid, and she’d clearly grabbed the first day gown she saw in order to travel. “As soon as I saw Grandda, I kent somethin’ was up. So I made me da bring me back in the buggy. The Laird is here? An’ the Chieftain an’ all?”
“Aye,” Cicilia sighed, slipping into the seat Katie had vacated. “Just what we needed. As if the stuck-up accomptant was nae visitor enough.”
“Cunningham, was it nae?” Jeanie chuckled. “I never even got to see him. Me mam tells me he lasted longer than usual, though, before the twin terrors ran him off.”
The farmer gave a small smile. “Aye. He was harder to break than the others. I have to admit, it was a wee bit fun tryin’ to run him off.” But then her smile faded, and she said, “I get the feelin’ it is nae gonnae be such wi’ these two, though.”
Jeanie gave her a skeptical look. “Wha’s the harm if they stay a wee bit longer?” She giggled. “Katie says they’re right handsome, the pair o’ them.”
Handsome! In what world?
Though, if she was honest, in this one. Very much. The Man-at-arms was perhaps the more conventional rugged type, with his wild hair and beard, and readiness to fight or jape just as easily as the other. His natural smile against the brightness of his hair and eyes made him light up a room with only a laugh.
But it was Alexander to whom her eyes were drawn—at least, it had been until she discovered how stuck-up his Lairdship seemed to be. His dark hair, those blue eyes—he reminded her of one of the heroes of ancient times, such as in the Latin and Greek tales her father had taught.
Hmph. Well, if Alexander is a creature o’ Classical myth, then I dub him Narcissus.
“They’re easy on the eye, but ye ken that means very little to their personalities,” Cicilia told her friend. “Dinnae ye go fallin’ in love wi’ the Laird, o’ all people! What kind o’ fool would ye have to be?”
Jeanie giggled. “A rich fool, to be sure,” she teased. “Even richer than ye are wi’ this farm an’ yer servants.”
Cicilia snorted. Her friend made everything in life a joke, but that did not mean she did not take it seriously. Honestly, Cicilia found her extremely helpful when she got too focused on work and forgot to simply enjoy life.
But Jeanie’s expression calmed a little as she said, “Ye dinnae think he’s gonnae take the farm away, do ye?”
Cicilia’s expression settled into a tight frown. Yes, if he found out her secret, that was precisely what the Laird would do. Her mother and father had educated her as well as any boy. Cicilia knew without boldness that she had a good head for business and economics, as well as for Latin and Greek. More so than many sons, she imagined.
But that would matter not. Cicilia was a woman, and women were not meant to have any sort of success in the minds of these powerful men. They would take her farm from her and hand it over to a suitably gendered vassal and leave Cicilia and her siblings in the dust.
She’d love to just tell him to shove off, but she wasn’t so idiotic as to go openly against the Laird. She’d spend the night in the dungeons, or worse if she were to do such a thing!
Jeanie seemed to be able to read her thoughts, and she let out a long sigh. “Oh, Cil. How many trade shows, illnesses, an’ family visits do ye think ye’re gonnae get away wi’ until somebody calls yer bluff?”
It wasn’t a bluff. It was a gambit, not only for her way of life but for Jamie, for Annys. And for her father. So Cicilia made a grim expression as she said, “Always one more, Jeanie. Always one more.”
When Alexander picked his way downstairs the next morning, he tried his best not to notice the crooked way the stairs led down to the kitchens, or the ramshackle organization of the wall paintings. The room he’d woken in was pleasant enough, but it was not his, and that on its own was enough to set him on edge.
A young housemaid named Katie had wakened him a little time prior. She informed him that someone named Mrs. Humphries had laid out a large breakfast in honor of the Laird and the Man-at-arms and that he should make his way to the kitchens as soon as he was able.
Pleasant o’ them, I suppose, but I dinnae half wish I was still in me castle.
The house was strangely quiet as he made his way through, remembering the way to the kitchens from the night before. He heard voices before he entered, and he was surprised at how lively they all sounded while the sun was barely yet in the sky.
But then, I suppose a farmer’s home would keep hours wi’ the sun.
He reached the kitchen door just as it was flung open, and one of the two pig-riders from last night almost ran straight into him. Alexander recoiled from the child’s hands, sticky with jam as they were.
“Oh! Mr. Laird! Good mornin’!” the boy said excitedly. “I was just goin’ to use the privy. Have ye used the privy?”
“Jamie,” called Cicilia’s warning voice. “Stop teasin’ the Laird an’ go get washed before ye eat.”
Jamie winked at the Laird and hurried past him. Alexander stared after him for a moment before shaking his head and walking inside.
The sight before him wasn’t quite what he’d expected. Nathair was already downstairs, the little girl Annys on his right next to her sister. There was an empty chair with a plate before it—Jamie’s, he assumed—and another empty space with no plate, which he supposed must be for him.
But there were others at the table, too, two guests he had not expected. One was a tall young woman, around Cicilia’s age or perhaps a little more youthful, with brown hair braided down her back and bright brown eyes. She sat on Nathair’s left, and the two were chatting enthusiastically about some subject Alexander did not hear.
It wasn’t the girl who made him stare, though. Nathair was good at finding a lass to keep his attention, no matter what the setting. No, what caught his eye was the old man at the head of the table.
“Ye!” Alexander said in surprise.
“Fair mornin’, Me Laird,” Cicilia said brightly, as though he hadn’t spoken. Her round cheeks were pleasantly pink, as though she had been awake and working for hours
already. “I hope ye slept well?”
“I—” Alexander started, thrown off by her words, still staring at the old man. “Er, aye, thank ye. I did. But, Miss O’Donnel…”
“Oh, please, call me Cicilia,” said the farmer’s daughter. “An’ have a seat. I’ll have Angelica bring ye some eggs. They’re fresh this morn.”
Alexander slowly sank into his seat, still not moving his eyes from the elderly man. “Prithee, Grandfaither, are—”
Nathair looked up from his conversation and snorted. “Och, dinnae bother, Sandy. He doesn’ae recognize me, either.”
The little girl, Annys, piped up. “Cil, ye dinnae introduce anyone to Mr. Laird,” she said disapprovingly. “Mr. Laird, this is Jeanie McCaul. She’s me sister’s best friend an’ she’s the daughter o’ Mrs. Humphries, the cook, and Mr. Humphries, the driver.”
Distracted, Alexander flicked his gaze at the brown-haired young woman, who smiled politely at him. “Pleased to meet ye,” he said. “Me name is Alexander MacKinnon.”
“Aye, Laird, I ken,” Jeanie told him with a little smirk. She shot a sideways glance at Cicilia that Alexander didn’t understand, then turned her attention back to him. “The honor’s mine. An’ this is me maternal grandda, Ewan McCaul. We like to come for breakfast sometimes. I hope it dis nae bother ye.”
“It certainly dis nae bother me,” Nathair told her with a grin, and Alexander struggled not to roll his eyes.
“Aye, I’ve met yer grandfaither,” Alexander told Jeanie. “Me an’ Nathair both.” He looked to Ewan once more. “Ye sent us on quite the merry chase last night, Mr. McCaul.”
Ewan smiled without any sort of recognition. “I think ye must be mistaken, Laird,” he replied airily. “I may be an old goat, but I’m nae yet too old to remember the night before. I think I’d remember meetin’ ye an’ yer friend!”
“But ye did,” Alexander protested. “Ye did! Ye were right there in the road, an’ ye sent us off in the wrong direction! We right near crossed the border!”
Cicilia tilted her head. “But why would Ewan do such a thing?” she asked, sounding very confused. “Jeanie, was yer Grandda out last night?”
“Nay!” Jeanie said, surprised. “As far as I ken, he was in his bed all night. Ye dinnae sneak out again, did ye, Grandda?”
Ewan chuckled. “I’m tellin’ ye, I’ve never seen either o’ these men in me life.”
I dinnae ken why they’re lyin’ to me. Are they tryin’ to mess wi’ me heid?
The thought infuriated Alexander, especially when Nathair let out another laugh from the other side of the table. The Man-at-arms seemed frustratingly uninterested in this conversation. In fact, he was already turning his attention back to Jeanie.
“Are ye quite well, Laird?” Cicilia asked innocently.
Alexander scowled as a pleasant-looking, plump woman brought him some eggs and placed the plate in front of him. He thanked her in a low mumble and didn’t look up again from his plate until Jamie re-entered the room.
Luckily for him, the twins seemed less overly active this morning. In fact, they were like completely different children than the menaces who had tried to decapitate him by pig the night before. Alexander didn’t speak much, but he was impressed by how deftly Cicilia handled the children.
Even without being involved in the conversation, he had to admit it was a pleasant meal. The farmer’s children were friendly, as were the old man—despite his supposed memory loss—and his granddaughter. Cicilia asked enough questions to be polite, but not enough to pry when it became clear Alexander didn’t particularly want to answer.
Maybe I judged her too quickly last night. Mayhap I should try to make amends.
After the meal, the surprisingly well-behaved children jumped to their feet in excitement. “Will ye teach us now?” they begged Nathair.
Nathair laughed. “Aye, if ye want, an’ if yer sister says it’s all right.”
Cicilia nodded, and Alexander shot his friend a questioning look.
“Och, the bairns want me to take them outside an’ show them some fancy work wi’ me sword. I dinnae see the harm so long as they remember to stay back while I’m swingin’,” Nathair told him with a shrug.
“We’ll be good!” Annys said quickly. “So good, like ye dinnae even ken! I promise! We both do, dinnae we, Jamie?”
“Aye!” Jamie added quickly. “The best bairns in the whole wide world!”
Nathair chuckled again. “Oh, aye?” he asked. He winked at Jeanie. “How would ye like to come along wi’ us? To keep an eye on the bairns, o’ course.”
Jeanie giggled, her cheeks rosy. “Aye, well, if ye’d like that, Sir,” she replied. “I suppose I wouldnae mind.”
Nathair smiled at her, then shot a wink in Alexander’s direction before leading Jeanie and the twins outside.
Cicilia watched them go with some amusement. “Ewan, yer granddaughter is incorrigible,” she told him.
Aye, an’ it seems she’s found her incorrigible match in me Man-at-arms.
Ewan chuckled. “That she is,” he agreed. “I’m gonnae go check in wi’ me Angelica. Ye all right if I leave ye here?”
Alexander started, but Cicilia was still smiling as she nodded and waved the old man off. When they were alone, Cicilia turned to the Laird.
“What will ye do today, Laird?”
He swallowed as those strange eyes caught his gaze. The extra strip of gold, just like the peculiar hunk of black in her hair, made it nearly impossible for him not to stare. “Well,” he said. “I was hopin’ to get to ken a little about the farm.”
Cicilia’s expression didn’t flicker. “Aye? I’m afraid ye might be waitin’ a wee while.”
She’s cautious, but that makes sense. I definitely dinnae put me best foot forward.
“I apologize for all the yellin’ last night, Miss…er, Cicilia. It was uncouth o’ me. I was quite tired after a long ride, an’—”
But she was shaking her head already. “Dinnae ye worry yerself. I’m just a mite concerned tha’ ye traveled all this way for naught. Me faither will nae be back for days, maybe weeks.”
Alexander narrowed his eyes. There was something in the way her voice caught that he recognized, though he couldn’t place where. Something from his own past that told him for sure that she was lying.
Why would she lie?
He didn’t know, but he knew one thing. “That’s all right,” he told Cicilia pleasantly. “I can wait. Ye dinnae mind hostin’ yer Laird ‘til yer faither returns, I suppose?”
Alexander saw it, then, the flash in her eyes that told him she was definitely hiding something. It was tiny and would have gone unnoticed by most—but Alexander noticed everything. He always had.
“O’ course nae, Laird,” she said, getting to her feet. “But if ye’ll excuse me, I have to get goin’. While me faither is gone, the farmhands need some help, an’ the animals will nae look after themselves. Please feel free to explore as ye like.”
He nodded, watching her go. She was dressed in a man’s work clothes today, trews that emphasized the curves of her hips and a loose blouse. Did she really intend to work in the fields?
A strange woman, nae doubt about it.
Once she was gone, he sat where he was, pondering everything from the night before and from this morning.
The old man was lying. Cicilia was hiding something. Nathair was distracted by the pretty face of the old man’s granddaughter, so he was like to be no help at all.
But it just made Alexander more certain. There was a secret here, on his own land. And he wasn’t going anywhere until he’d uncovered it.
Chapter 7
Dulce est Desipere in Loco
It is Sweet on Occasion to Play the Fool
Cicilia spent the morning performing her farm chores as usual, and as the sun reached its midpoint, she made her way to the stables. One of the other farmhands was there, but Cicilia dismissed him, telling him to go get a bite to eat.
She walked in, reached
for the brush and tack, and headed over to her work. She began to sing quietly to herself, a nonsense rhyme she remembered her mother repeating in her youth.
“If wishes were horses, poor men would ride…”
Cicilia liked horses a lot. They were majestic creatures, who judged not based on any sort of human measures. They cared little if she was a man or woman, rich or poor, young or old. They simply knew that she fed them, and brushed them, and loved them
Me God, but the Laird an’ the Man-at-arms have certainly brought some beautiful horses.
They were of an Irish breed, she suspected. Their coats shone with health, dappled white and black with beautiful long white manes and tails. One was a filly, one a stallion, and she suspected they were related.
A Hellion for the Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 5