Sin blew out a breath. Only the knee. The boy sounded just like his wife, who also insisted she was unharmed even as she hobbled about her rooms, wincing with each step.
He’d told her to stay abed. But did the obstinate woman listen? Of course not. And now every pained step she took was a reminder of his failure to keep her safe.
He helped Jock stand and waved to another to bring his horse.
“I can stay and work more.” Jock straightened and tried to put weight on his left leg. He winced. “No need to send me back.”
“You’ll return to Kenmore and rest.” Sin’s voice brooked no objection.
Another failure. His tenants, his servants, his wife. It was his duty to care for them. Protect them. And he was failing on every front. “And if your knee isn’t better by tomorrow, we’ll send for the doctor. Now up with you.” He and two other men lifted Jock into the saddle.
Sin jerked his head at Gregor, and the coachman gathered the horse’s reins and led him away towards the castle.
Gavin stood at the edge of the trench, hands on hips, looking down at the mess in disgust. “What now?”
Sin joined him. The posts they’d used to anchor the wall hadn’t been deep enough, he could see that now. The weight of the canal required stronger bracing. More hours of back-breaking work. All for a bit of water that wouldn’t make a fuck lot of difference if the sun didn’t shine.
He forced optimism into his voice and clapped his friend on his shoulder. “Now we get back to work.”
A general round of grumbling met this announcement.
Sin jumped back into the trench and found his sledgehammer. “Quit your glumping, princesses. You aren’t going to let a toff show you up out in the fields, are you?” A strand of hair clung to his cheek, and he shoved it back with the back of his wrist. “I wager you that I’ll dig two holes for every one you lazy sots do, or a cask of ten-year-old scotch is on me.”
He grinned as the men pushed each other jumping back in the hole and picking up their tools.
“I think you’re going to doon a lot of fine whisky,” Gavin said.
Sin slammed the handle of his sledgehammer into the loose soil, marking the spot he would dig. “Your lack of faith pains me. Why would you think that?” Not that Sin hadn’t been planning on giving all these men a reward for their labors. But it took a rare man to best him in any physical competition.
Gavin jerked his head toward Kenmore. “Because you’re going to be too busy jawing instead of digging.”
Sin looked where he indicated and saw the lone figure coming toward them on horseback. His mother’s bright red hair was the only spot of color on the bleak moor.
“Hmph.” He slammed the hammer into the earth. As he climbed from the trench, his friend laughed behind him. “Come on, men. We have him at an advantage, you ken? Let’s use every minute of it.”
Sin strode to his mother, wishing it were another woman coming to see him.
She waited until he took the horse’s bridle before swinging her legs from the stirrups and hopping to the ground. “Hello,mo ghrâdh.”
Wished it were another woman telling him she loved him.
“Mother. Come to check on our progress?” He gritted his teeth. “As you can see, there’s very little. I didn’t have the men dig the posts deep enough and our first attempt failed.”
She pressed her lips together. “Well, blaming yourself won’t help anything. It looks like repairs are doing well now.”
Sin bit back a snort. Only a mother’s eyes would think that anything on this whole bloody estate was going well. He shook his head, giving her a fond smile. “It’s kind of you to say so, but I don’t require humoring. We both know Kenmore is a right mess, and I’ve done little to improve it.”
The stone and wood wall of the canal ran the length of the pasture. It had stood for over two hundred years, held together by every previous laird. “I am … sorry that I’m not the marquess the house of/Dunkeld deserves. I only wish I’d had more time to learn from father before he died.”
He’d been sent to school in England when he was eight. His education was useful for his life in London, but had never taught him the art of managing his own estate. Tavish and Sin’s mother had held the reins until Sin had come of age, and even then, he’d allowed them to make the decisions with but the barest interference on his part. His tasks from the crown had always been of higher importance, his duties in the House of Lords a higher calling.
He looked over his shoulder at the men working together, heedless of his presence. “I thank you for notifying me of the canal collapse, but as soon as it is repaired, I’m be returning to Glasgow.”
She gave him a shrewd look. “Just Glasgow?”
He looked away, not wanting to see her disappointment. “Then London. It is where I belong.”
“And your wife?” Her tone was flat, showing neither disgust nor the disappointment Sin knew she must feel.
