Joseph sighed, turning to face him. “I think ye know full well what it means, my laird. Perhaps ye really were just ‘showing her the pottery’ but the gossips are already wondering who she is and why ye’ve brought her here. It would be best for the lass if ye didnae give them aught else to gossip about.”
Niall ground his teeth. Joseph was right, which annoyed him all the more. He did not need to be lectured by Joseph on propriety, but his friend’s concerns were genuine. He’d already earned himself a reputation as something of a rake amongst Edinburgh society and he didn’t want Charlotte getting caught up in all of that.
“Are ye suggesting I keep away from her?”
“I’m suggesting ye be aware of how yer actions may be perceived,” Joseph replied evenly.
Niall turned to watch as the large river stone was finally hauled up to the builders waiting above. He felt a sudden urge to join them, to lose himself in the physical exertion and leave behind the complicated expectations of being laird.
“Ye have my word, Joseph,” he finally said. “I have no intentions to harm or bring disgrace upon Lady Charlotte.”
Joseph nodded, appearing satisfied with this promise.
Niall clapped his friend on the shoulder and tried to dismiss his concerns. “I’ve too much work to do to be bothered with romance, Joseph.”
Joseph only grunted in response, his gaze steady on the half-built mill.
Niall walked away from the construction site but didn’t return to Glennoch with all its demands. He needed time to think so he turned north and took a little-used track that led him through the fields and pinewoods towards the northern border of his lands.
Here he stopped and looked out. There was nothing to mark the border between his land and his brother’s. No fence. No wall. But even so, it blazed as brightly for Niall as if it had been written in blood.
A sudden gust of wind blew through the tall pines, sending a shiver down his spine, as if the ghosts of past disputes still haunted this unseen boundary. The scent of damp earth and pine resin filled his nostrils, and he closed his eyes.
There was a time when he and his brothers had roamed these woods together, hunting, fishing, laughing. But those days seemed like a lifetime ago.
A sigh escaped from Niall’s lips as he sat on a fallen log and took out the letter he’d received last night.
The parchment was thin and slightly crumpled, sealed with a red wax stamp. He held it up to the scant sunlight filtering through the canopy, the light revealing the coded message written between the lines of mundane gossip that filled the rest of the page.
If anyone should read this, they would think it just a letter from one of his contacts in Edinburgh, keeping him up to date on goings on. But Niall knew better. It was a letter from his employers, a response to the missive he’d sent them on his return to the manor.
Niall’s eyes scanned the coded words quickly, although he’d already memorized them. Unrest was brewing, the rebels becoming bolder. Gatherings of supporters for either side of the argument for union had turned violent and arrests had ensued. Edinburgh was awash with rumor: the English were marching to quell the unrest. The Irish were in secret negotiations with the Jacobites to seize the Western Isles.
A rustling noise behind him caused Niall to turn sharply, hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his dagger. But all he saw was a hare darting out from the underbrush, its white tail bobbing as it disappeared into the thicket.
Drawing in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, he forced himself to relax. He had been on edge ever since he received that letter. Things were becoming ugly, sliding towards disorder. Niall would not let that happen. He would not,couldnot, let his land and people slide back into the chaos of the years just past.
The letter crumpled as his fist clenched. He would do whatever it took. Wasn’t that the oath he’d taken? He’d let Edinburgh society think what they would of him: philanderer. Rake. Traitor. It didn’t matter. Only ensuring his people’s future mattered.
The sudden crunch of footsteps in the distance brought Niall back to the present. He clasped his dagger again and looked up, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of a column of people walking south across his brother’s lands: cloaked figures, men and women, old and young, all bundled against the wind that swept through the valley. Their eyes were hollow with fatigue.
He slid the letter back into his plaid and rose, making his way towards the strangers with purposeful strides. As he neared, a woman in the lead stiffened, her eyes wide and fearful. A small boy clung to her skirts, his face dirty and tear-streaked.
Niall raised his hands in a show of peace, stopping several feet from them. “I mean no harm,” he said his voice gentle but firm. “I am Niall Campbell.”
The woman squinted at him suspiciously before nudging a man next to her. The man stepped forward, squaring his shoulders as he eyed Niall warily. He was tall, lean with age and hardship.
“We know who ye are, Laird Campbell.”
“Why are ye crossing my brother’s lands?” Niall asked.
The man glanced at the group behind him before returning his gaze to Niall. “Perhaps ye should ask yer brother that question.”
“I’m asking ye.”
The man hesitated, glancing back at the tired huddle of people who were now anxiously watching their exchange.
“We’ve been evicted,” he said finally, his voice rasping like dry leaves in the wind. “Yer brother’s turned us off his land to make way for sheep.”
