Regency Proposal. Ann Lethbridge

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СКАЧАТЬ happened to your leg?’ he asked. ‘I saw you walking at the ball.’

      So much for her efforts to glide smoothly. ‘My carriage tipped over and fell on me.’

      He winced. ‘I hope the idiot driver was suitably punished.’

      ‘I was. I broke my leg.’

      His cheekbones flushed red. ‘Oh. I didna’ mean—’

      ‘The accident was my fault. I was driving too fast and not looking where I was going.’ Thinking about her recent male conquest if the truth be told. ‘I was lucky I was the only one hurt by my stupidity. It doesn’t hurt much any more, but the bones didn’t set quite right.’

      ‘I’m sorry.’ He sounded sorry. But then once he’d sounded as if he liked her, until his brothers caught them together.

      Sassenach. Thief. The taunts danced in her head. The war between the Scots and the English might be over, but their families would battle until no one remained to swing a verbal sword.

      The track had joined the main road where the jolts were less and their pace improved. Soon they were driving through Dunross village where a group of ragged boys were kicking a pig’s bladder back and forth across the lane. When they saw the cart, they came running over. ‘Laird, Laird,’ one of the boys shouted, then said something in Gaelic.

      Ian replied in the same language. He half turned to her. ‘They want me to play with them.’

      One of them spotted her in the cart and his eyes rounded in his grimy face. He pointed at her and yelled something. The boys all sniggered.

      Ian grinned and replied, clearly in the negative.

      She squared her shoulders, set her face in untroubled calm while inside she curled in a tight ball. ‘What did he say?’

      Ian laughed. ‘Boys. They have one-track minds. They want to know if you are my woman. I told them, no, that you are a lady and to be treated with respect.’

      She relaxed, looking back and seeing the boys had returned to their game. ‘Shouldn’t the children be in school?’

      ‘Aye.’

      Could he not say more than one word at a time? ‘You call yourself Laird—why do you not convince their families to give them an education?’

      He glanced back at her, his brows lowered, his eyes hard. ‘They call me Laird, because that is what I am. The nearest school is fifteen miles hence.’

      ‘Why not start a school in the village?’

      ‘Where?’ He sounded frustrated.

      She subsided into silence. Father should be the one to open a school. He owned almost everything except the old mill and the Gilvrys’ farmland.

      ‘I will speak to my father about setting up a school. Perhaps in the church hall.’

      Now he looked surprised, and heaven help her, pleased. ‘It would be a grand thing for the families hereabouts,’ he said. ‘There are children up in the glens who would come, too, when they weren’t needed for chores. It would give them a future.’

      She cast him a sly smile. ‘And keep them out of mischief.’

      He chuckled. ‘Perhaps, my lady. Me and my brothers got up to all sorts of mischief, despite having a tutor. But it is true that we had less time to get into trouble.’

      A feeling of warmth stole through her, the feeling they had begun to talk like friends again, rather than enemies. She liked the way it felt.

      As they approached the tavern in the centre of the village a youngish man sweeping the cobbles doffed his hat at their approach. He grinned at Ian. ‘Good day to you, Laird.’

      Ian acknowledged the greeting with a nod.

      Then the man’s gaze fell on Selina and all traces of good humour disappeared from his ruddy face. He spat on the ground. ‘That’s Albright’s get. You should be dropping her in the nearest peat bog and letting her drown, not driving her around the countryside. It would serve Albright well to see what it is like to lose something.’

      ‘Enough, Willy Gair,’ Ian said. ‘You know that is not the Highland way of it.’

      The young man glared at him. ‘Highlanders look after their ane, not the English who have no business here. You are a traitor to your clan, Ian Gilvry, if you have aught to do with them up at the keep.’ He started towards them, giving Selina a look filled with such hatred that her mouth dried and her heart picked up speed.

      ‘I’ll speak to you later, Willy,’ Ian said grimly and urged the pony into a trot.

      She bit her lip. Nothing had changed over the years. ‘Why is he so angry?’

      ‘He was evicted last month,’ Ian said flatly. ‘His family had been crofters on Dunross land for generations. When he couldn’t pay the rent, he had to leave. He is one of the lucky ones. His brother-in-law owns the inn and is able to give him a little work and a roof over his head.’

      ‘Father said nothing about evictions.’

      His expression said how would she know what her father did.

      ‘Why would he?’

      ‘Sheep.’

      Another one-word answer that was as clear as mud. Clearly he wasn’t going to say more. Well, she would just have to ask her father.

      ‘Almost there,’ Ian announced.

      Beyond him, Dunross Keep jutted up into the blue sky.

      The last time he’d carried her home he’d been nothing but a gangly boy, but to her he’d seemed like a knight in shining armour, and she his lady. Childish romantic nonsense.

      He turned his head slightly, still looking ahead. ‘Angus McIver is heading this way on foot.’

      She winced. ‘I said I’d be back in an hour.’ She raised herself up and peered over his shoulder. A severe-looking Angus with a knobby walking stick was striding towards them. She waved.

      Ian’s lips pressed tight. He drew the cart up when he came abreast of the big Scot.

      ‘My Lady. Laird.’ Angus touched the bonnet perched on his head. ‘Thank ye for bringing the lassie home.’

      Selina let go a breath. No yelling. No harsh words. A simple grim politeness, but then the Highlanders were known for their impeccable manners. Some of them.

      Jaw set, Ian nodded. ‘I’ll drive her in.’

      ‘Best not. I’ll take her and the horse in through the gate.’

      ‘Angus,’ she gasped.

      ‘I’ve no wish to enter the keep,’ Ian said harshly. He clicked his tongue and the horse moved onwards. ‘Not while it belongs to another.’

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