But Nathair was already wandering off.
Alexander watched him go, a little smirk on his face, then shook his head.
All right. First, the blacksmith.
There’s somethin’ odd goin’ on here, an’ I’m gonnae find out what.
Jeanie came back with the Laird and the Man-at-arms when they returned from the village, to nobody’s surprise. Jeanie had visited the farm nearly every evening since Alexander and Nathair had arrived. It amused Cicilia to see how much her friend had brightened up, bubbling with excitement whenever the Chieftain invited her on a walk or asked her a question.
At least one o’ them is pleasant.
Cicilia wished she could say the same about the Laird. After the events of three days before in the stables, he had been avoiding her whenever possible. He spent most of his time cooped in his room, or waiting until she was elsewhere before he wandered particular areas of the farm.
The way he’d spoken to her still rankled, almost as much as it irritated her when she thought of the brief moment where she would not have minded if he’d pressed his lips to her own, or perhaps trailed them down her jaw, her neck…
Madness. As if I have time for such things, an’ if I did, as if I’d choose such an unreasonable man!
The morning’s work was done, and she watched from a distance as the twins played together, brandishing sticks at each other as though they were in a sword fight.
I suppose Alexander would think it remarkably improper that Annys is actin’ so rough.
She scoffed at the thought, then heard a groan as someone took a seat beside her. She turned to see Ewan.
“Are ye hauntin’ me farm, old man?” she teased. He knew he was always welcome. His daughter and son-in-law may technically work for her, but all of them were a part of the family.
Ewan seemed to find that very funny, and he chuckled for a bit before speaking. “I hardly think I’m the one that’s an unwanted specter here, eh?”
Cicilia scowled. He wasn’t wrong. “At least Barcley seems pleasant.”
“Aye,” Ewan agreed, a little concern coloring his tone. “Me granddaughter certainly seems to think so.” He shook his head. “But tha’ is nae what I came here to tell ye. The Laird’s been askin’ questions.”
“Oh?” Cicilia asked, turning her attention to him fully. “What sort of questions? Of whom?”
Ewan shrugged. “Ye ken the sort. He’s been askin’ me, me bairn, the farmhands, the village folk—anyone he can get a hold o’ that might contradict yer wee story about yer da. I think he’s a mite suspicious, pet. Ye’ll want to be careful.”
Cicilia took his hand and squeezed it. “Dinnae ye worry. Ye ken I’m always careful.”
Ewan patted the back of her hand, then got to his feet. “Aye, I ken. Just wanted to make sure ye’re aware. Anyway, I’d better get inside before Angelica starts scolding me again.”
Cicilia smiled as she watched him walk away, but it faded as soon as he was gone.
What kind o’ questions has he been askin’? What does he suspect?
Troubled, she stood, too. She glanced once more at the twins, then headed off to find Jeanie. If she could pry her friend away from the Man-at-arms, perhaps she could find out a little about what Alexander was up to.
Alexander found the twins chatting away to their massive pet pig, no adult in sight, and stood back to listen.
“Bacon,” Jamie said, “Do ye think we did a good job the other night? Mr. Laird is still here.”
“Dinnae worry, Jamie,” Annys assured him. “The other man, Mr. Cunningham, he stayed for days, but he left just like the rest as well!”
What does that mean? Have they been scarin’ people off? Why?
He took a step forward to hear better and flinched as a crack sounded too-loudly through the air. Alexander looked down, cursing as he saw the large stick that had just snapped under his foot.
When he looked up again, both twins were watching him with identical expressions of surprise. Then they were hurrying towards him before he had a moment to think.
“Are ye spyin’ on us, Mr. Laird?” Annys asked curiously, her wide eyes—so similar to her sister’s that it was a little unnerving—staring up at him.
“What do ye think ye’ll find out?” Jamie added, folding his arms. “We dinnae ken much.”
Alexander almost dismissed them, but then he thought about it a little harder. Yes, they were very young, but…
Who else would ken better what Cicilia is up to than her own wee siblings?
“Well,” he said cautiously. “If ye dinnae ken much, then I guess ye cannae tell me anythin’.”
“Hang on!” Annys protested, elbowing Jamie. “It is nae that we dinnae ken. We’re right smart for bairns o’ eight, ye ken. I can read in English, Gaelic, an’ I ken some Latin an’ Greek.”
“Oh?” Alexander said, pretending to be uninterested. “Is that so? And who would have taught a farmer’s bairns all o’ that?”
“Me daddy taught us, and now Cil teaches us!” Jamie told him excitedly. “She’s right smart. She can do lots o’ things, like numbers an’ languages an’—”
But then he clammed up, and the twins exchanged significant looks.
“—an’ then nay more,” Annys finished.
Aye, ‘cause that’s nae suspicious at all. Why would Cicilia be their teacher?
He knew he had to approach it carefully because if he scared the children off, or made them suspicious, they’d tell him nothing. So instead, he pretended to change the subject entirely. “It’s an awfie big farm, dinnae ye think so?”
“It’s right big!” Jamie agreed. “We’ve got pigs an’ cows an’ sheep!”
“An’ dinnae forget chickens!” Annys added, caught up in the excitement now. “An’ some ducks an’ there are some nasty geese tha’ live in our pond, but they dinnae do anythin’ terrible if we leave their babies alone.”
“That’s a lot o’ animals,” Alexander said with a wise nod. “An’ how does the farmer keep track o’ everythin’? That’s an awfie lot for one person to remember.”
Annys nodded. “Aye, tha’s why there’s the book!”
It was like a bolt of lightning down his spine. A book? What book? Did it contain the secrets and information he was looking for?
Have I made a breakthrough at last?
“Can ye two smart bairns tell me more about this book?” he pressed.
Jamie and Annys looked at each other. Then Jamie said, “Well, we’re nae really supposed to talk about the ledger, but I guess if ye won the information, then we wouldnae be breakin’ any rules.”
“Aye,” Annys said, nodding happily. “That’s smart, Jamie. Daddy always said tha’ a man was only as good as how well he keeps a bet!”
Said? Past tense?
But before he could ask, the twins seemed to come to a decision. “All right,” Jamie said decisively. “If ye can beat us at hide an’ seek, then we’ll tell ye all about the book.”
Alexander groaned internally. He didn’t have time for childish games, especially ones that would take him in and out of dirty farm buildings and, no doubt, leave him exhausted. But outwardly, he just smiled. “Aye, all right, then.”
“We warn ye,” Annys cautioned. “Me an’ Jamie are the best in the world at hide an’ seek!”
“So, if I find you both, you tell me about the book?” Alexander asked her.
The twins whispered together, then Jamie said, “Ye have to find us thrice before we find ye thrice. We’ll set a time limit to make it fair. Deal?”
Jamie held out his hand, and Alexander took it, surprised by the strength of the boy’s handshake. Alexander couldn’t help but smile at the serious expression on both children’s faces.
“Deal,” he said.
After all, how hard could a game of hide and seek be?
“Does he often play like that?” Cicilia asked, as she sat with Jeanie and Nathair at a card table next to one of the upstairs windows. The three of them wer
e watching, a little incredulous, as Annys and Jamie played some sort of madcap hide and seek game with the Laird.
Outside, Alexander uncovered the canvas cover under which Jamie was hiding, and even from here, they heard the Laird call, “Aha!”
“Nay!” Jamie shrieked and bolted off. Laughing wildly, actually seeming to enjoy himself, Alexander chased after him.
“I’ll catch ye!” the Laird was calling.
Nathair chuckled. “The last time I saw him like that, we were both bairns ourselves,” he told them. “Sandy’s nae been the same since his Mither an’ faither went. This is…surprisin’. Nice, but surprisin’.”
Cicilia felt an unexpected rush of sympathy. She had almost forgotten that this young Laird may be one of the few people who understood exactly what she had gone through with the loss of first her mother and then her father.
She’d been only three-and-ten herself when the news of Laird and Madame Gallagher’s deaths had reached the farm, and their young son had officially assumed the title. Cicilia remembered her mother had cried, and her father been very solemn for days.
“But Daddy, I dinnae understand. I dinnae think ye liked Gallagher’s laird?” she’d asked him, confused.
Cameron had shaken his head, putting his hands on her shoulders and speaking to her very seriously. “Nay, me wee strawberry. Me an’ the Laird dinnae always see eye to eye, but he was a good man, an’ his wife a good woman. They had me respect. They did well for this clan, an’ they’ll be missed.”
“That poor boy,” Lillian had added sadly. “I wonder how he’s gonnae cope all alone?”
An’ now here he is, playin’ chase wi’ the bairns. Maybe I’ve been too harsh.
Was he so stuck up and hard because of the tragedy? Indeed, Cicilia had hardened somewhat when her mother died, and again after the death of her father—and she only had a farm to worry about, not a whole clan.
To lose both of them at the same time, his only family married off to another clan’s Laird…it must have been hard. Mayhap that’s why he was so tough on everyone all the time.
“I was only ten when it happened,” Jeanie said sadly, idly twisting a loose strand of hair around her finger. “I mind everyone in the village was right sad. To be honest, he’s a harsh lawman, but the newer Laird o’ Gallagher seems a decent fellow an’ Laird, despite the coldness people talk about.”
Nathair nodded enthusiastically. “It’s an act,” he told them. “He doesn’ae ever let anyone see what he’s really like. It’s like he thinks he will nae get proper respect if he does.”
“That’s sad,” Jeanie told him, touching his arm.
Cicilia pretended not to notice the touch as she said, “It’s silly. Surely he kens he’d be better liked if he just smiled once in a while.”
Nathair chuckled. “Och, Miss Cicilia. Alexander MacKinnon doesn’ae care about bein’ liked. He just cares about doin’ his parents proud.”
Cicilia glanced out the window again, watching as Alexander caught Jamie and started to tickle him while they both laughed helplessly. She could see Annys behind a tree nearby, peeking out at the fun with a huge grin.
I haven’ae seen them laughin’ like that since Daddy died.
It gave her a strange but pleasant tight feeling in her chest. It made her miss her father more than ever, but it was also her first glimpse in a long time of something like her family used to be.
“An’ this is what he’s really like?” she asked Nathair, in a voice filled with a healthy dose of skepticism.
The Man-at-arms nodded. “Aye. Dinnae believe me if ye dinnae want to, lass, but do ye really think somebody like me would be friends wi’ him for me whole life if he was really as sour-faced as he comes across?”
Jeanie smiled. “Aye, well, ye are a lot o’ fun a’ on yer own, Nathair.”
Nathair winked at her but continued talking to Cicilia. “He’s been obsessed wi’ things bein’ neat an’ perfect since he was a lad. He used to throw mighty tantrums as a wee bairn if everythin’ wisnae neat or his routines got broken away from what he was used to. It only got worse after his parents went. Ye can imagine how yer faither’s farm gets to him.”
She could. It must be frustrating to the point of madness to know that these illegal trades were going on right under the Laird’s nose and that there was nothing he could do about it. How much worse would it be if he knew that Cameron O’Donnel was dead and that Cicilia herself was running the place?
I dinnae even want to imagine.
As Nathair and Jeanie continued to talk, Cicilia watched the Laird playing outside a bit longer, and sighed to herself.
Yes, perhaps he wasn’t so bad after all, but she could not risk being gentle on him. Just by being here, he was a threat to her home, her siblings, and the life she knew. And no matter how handsome he was or how golden-hearted, she could never put that at risk.
Chapter 9
Onus Probandi
Burden of Truth
Alexander placed his lantern carefully on the desk, glad that the candlelight was enough to illuminate the drawers as he searched through them as quickly as he could. He felt like an intruder.
That’s because ye are an intruder, Alexander.
No, that wasn’t fair. Alexander had been told to enjoy the library as he wished. Nobody had explicitly stated that he shouldn’t go into the little study enclosed off the side. And if he happened to find the book the children had mentioned while looking, well, that was just luck, wasn’t it?
It didn’t stop him from jumping at every noise, though. He felt strangely like he had as a very young child, hoping Catherine wouldn’t tell tales and that the cook wouldn’t catch him sneaking sweetmeats from the larder.
Nay. I’m the Laird o’ Gallagher. I have a right—a responsibility—to ken what’s goin’ on in me borders.
Of course, it would be helpful if he could actually find anything. Despite searching for nearly an hour, the book was nowhere in sight. Alexander was beginning to half-suspect that the twins had made the ledger up entirely, and was almost ready to give up in his frustration.
He straightened up from the desk, pondering what to do next, when her voice came sharp and angry, like a whip through the air.
“What are ye doin’ in me faither’s study?” Cicilia demanded furiously, and Alexander spun to see all five feet of her drawn up in the doorway. The candlelight made her shadow run up the wall at twice her height, and the way her hair glinted against the flames gave her a somewhat intimidating appearance.
“I—” he started, but he couldn’t think of a lie.
Well, why should I lie? I’m doin’ not a thing wrong!
If he kept repeating it, perhaps he might even believe it.
“Get out!” Cicilia cried, her voice a much higher pitch than usual. She wasn’t just angry. She was furious, disproportionate to what she’d found him doing. “Get away from there! Leave this study immediately!”
That’s when the suspicion began to form in his head. Alexander had only witnessed and felt that kind of anger once before.
He’d felt it the day he’d caught an unfortunate visitor helping himself to his late father’s favorite whiskey. The bottle had been untouched for two years following Alexander’s parents’ deaths, and here now was some visiting noble sipping away.
Unable to keep himself composed as a mere boy of eight-and-ten, Alexander had screamed at the man to get out of his castle. He’d felt like the visitor had ripped the very soul of his father away from him, tampering with one of the only things he had left that kept his parent near him.
He saw that same fury in Cicilia’s eyes now, and at last, he suspected he could guess at the source of what she was hiding.
“I’ll leave when I find what I’m lookin’ for,” he told her in a measured tone. “Unless, o’ course, ye care to tell me what ye’ve been hidin’ an’ save us both the trouble.”
It was actually admirable how she did not even flinch in response to what he’d said. She simpl
y put her hands on her hips and replied, “I dinnae ken what ye’re lookin’ for, but whatever it is, ye will nae find it in me faither’s study. I ask ye most kindly again to leave, Laird.”
Alexander shook his head. “Nay. Yer wee brother an’ sister, they told me about a particular book that I might find here.”
“This is a library,” Cicilia scoffed. “If it’s a book ye’re after, there’s a hundred just outside this door.”
A Hellion for the Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 7