Chapter Sixteen
“My lord… the fleeces were set on fire last night. All of the barns burned to the ground. The wool—it’s gone.”
Gone.
The word reverberated in his skull, and Brandon could hardly believe it was true. It couldn’t be.
“All of it?” he asked quietly.
His factor appeared terrified, but he nodded. “I’m afraid so. We—we have nothing to sell now.”
Rage and fear roared through with a violence that made Brandon want to put his fist through glass. He knew who had done this. Without a doubt.
He stared at his factor, whose face had gone white. The manshouldbe afraid. It washistask to keep their supplies safe from raids. Not only had the orders diminished, but now he had no means of fulfilling those he did have.
“How?” he ground out.
“It was last night… the fires started all at once. We think some of the MacKinlochs were involved.”
“Of course they were,” he growled. He’d evicted them from their homes last winter and had ordered his previous factor to burn the dwellings. It was within his right, sinceheowned the land and everything upon it. He’d allowed them to take their possessions, but that was all. Anyone who had dared to defy him and remain had paid the consequences.
And there would be consequences for this, as well. They would pay for what they’d done.
If their lives were the cost, so be it.
The journey to the northwest region of Scotland took longer than she’d expected, but Juliette didn’t mind. She never tired of watching the endless green hills and glens, nor the gray lochs nestled against taller mountains. Here, she felt her spirit softening. And though she missed her son, she didn’t miss London.
They had traveled within their own private coach, stopping along the way in numerous inns. She’d spent every night in her husband’s arms, and no longer did she fear him in any way. Though he hadn’t made love to her a second time, they had spent hours learning what pleased one another.
Yet, she couldn’t help worrying that their time together was slipping away.
“You’re quiet,” he said to her, moving across the space to sit beside her. “What is it?”
“I’m just uneasy about returning home. It seems so strange to think of it. I sent a letter to my mother, but we might reach Ballaloch before the letter does.”
“Are you afraid of what your parents will think of me?” Though he spoke the words offhandedly, she wondered if he was still sensitive about his impoverished past.
“It doesn’t matter what they think. I married you, and I intend for it to stay that way.” She would never be ashamed of him, no matter what anyone said.
He squeezed her hand and stared out the window of the coach. They were close to Ballaloch now, but as they continued toward her parents’ land, she scented smoke in the air. It was as if the fire had happened yesterday instead of five months earlier.
“Where is it coming from?” she asked Paul.
He shook his head. “I don’t ken, but I’ll find out.” Knocking on the ceiling of the coach, he called out for the driver to stop. He swung open the door and then helped Juliette down. The summer air was warmer than she’d expected, and she shielded her eyes against the sun.
“It’s coming from the earl’s land, toward the east,” he said.
“What burned?” she asked. Lord Strathland had ordered the crofters’ homes destroyed over a year ago, to make more grazing room for the sheep. She couldn’t think of what there was left to burn.
“These fires were more recent,” Paul said, turning to face the air. “Within the past few days.” He turned back to her. “We should go to your parents’ house and learn what’s happened.”
She nodded in agreement, but stopped him before he could help her back inside the coach. “Paul, your mother—”
“I’ll go to her, as soon as I’ve seen you safely to your house. It should be finished by now, from what I’ve heard.”
Even so, her earlier feelings of uneasiness continued to grow. It wasn’t safe here. Not for her family, and certainly not for Paul and herself. He urged the driver to quicken their pace, and as they approached her father’s land, the scent of smoke permeated the air, cloaking it with the scent of death.
When they reached her family’s house, she was glad to see that the stone exterior had been rebuilt, and it looked much the same as it had before. The two-story home rested atop a hillside while a gravel path led toward a clearing where only a few months ago, dozens of tents had been set up. Now, all the tents were gone, since the crofters had relocated to the Duke of Worthingstone’s property to build permanent homes. Although it was quiet, she heard the sound of chickens clucking and the clang of pots from Mrs. Larson’s kitchen.
