At first, she had attributed their behavior to the shock that might follow such traumatic news. But over time, she had come to realize that there was something deeper that caused those two young ladies to be unaffected by the death of their father. Somethingstrange.
Shaking her head once more, she reminded herself that she had no time to pity the girls, when she was the one who most needed mercy, seeing as she might soon become homeless if William made good on his threat to evict her.
She needed to come up with a better plan, and soon.
Her activities of the day had not sparked a new idea on how to avoid eviction, but she was not surprised. The cook, while she was friendly, was not the person to seek when planning to manipulate the new Laird, and since Sorcha had spent the better part of the day planning and preparing meals with her, it was little wonder that she had not made any headway in her escape plan.
While it was certainly unheard of for a lady to be seen in the kitchens helping to prepare meals, she had always enjoyed cooking, despite Poppy’s and her father’s disapproval. Besides, she could either die of boredom in her bedchamber or do what made her happy and distracted her from her growing irritation with the new Laird.
While it had worked at the time, she could feel that irritation returning as she sat opposite William at the dining table. The man looked far more delicious than any man had the right to be.
She watched as he spooned some soup into his mouth, quite oblivious to the glare she was leveling him with. But then his attention was fixed elsewhere. Those deep brown orbs of his took in the room like he was committing it to memory, or he had an important message to deliver and wanted to gauge their guests’ mood.
It seemed it was the latter, because in the next moment, he raised his tankard of ale and tapped it with the spoon, swiftly drawing everyone’s attention. The banter died down, and all eyes turned in his direction.
When he was sure he had their attention, he set the tankard down, then spoke loudly so that his voice carried across the hall. His tone rang with quiet authority that dared anyone to challenge him.
“I am pleased with how ye all welcomed me back home?—”
That was either a blatant lie or sarcasm.
“I didnae realize how much I have missed home. I am happy to be here with me people. I have certainly missed the memories these walls hold. I am honored to return here as yer Laird. To celebrate me return, I would like to host a cèilidh a fortnight from now,” he announced with a wide smile that belied the sharp vigilance in his eyes.
He was provoking them just to see their reactions. He was a better manipulator than she had imagined.
As expected, murmurs rose immediately.
“It is far too soon, me Laird,” Gregor forced out, as if it hurt him to call William by his new title. “We have yet to come out of mourning. It isnae proper to have a feast when we are supposed to be mourning.”
“A dreary cloud has been hanging over this place since me arrival. The man has been dead for months; it might be better if we all moved on.”
“But he was a beloved laird—” Fergus started.
“And ye have a new laird now. It might be better if ye spend yer energy on serving yer new laird than mourning a dead one. Do ye nae think?” William asked with a dark chuckle, his head tilted in challenge.
Sorcha shifted her gaze to the girls. After all, they were the only blood relatives of the dead Laird. She had expected to seeoutrage at the haste with which William was so eager to erase their father’s legacy. However, what she saw was anything but. The girls were bent over their plates, eating with gusto.
If she had not known better and seen the strong resemblance between the former Laird and his daughters, she might have thought the girls were adopted. Which confirmed her suspicion that all had not been right between the former Laird and his daughters.
Perhaps more of an enigma than his master was Myles. At first glance, he gave off an air of insouciance, his legs spread as he leaned back in his seat and downed his ale. It would have been so easy to write him off as a never-do-well had she not seen how his eyes swept across the hall while he feigned interest in his drink.
What had she expected? The man was a guard, for heaven’s sake. Being vigilant was part of his job, especially since his master was one of the most hated men in Dunrath, and they had most likely come here for revenge. It seemed that they had planned it quite thoroughly.
“What has ye so quiet, me Lady?” Caelan asked from beside her. “It seems ye find the newcomers more interesting than this fantastic meal.”
“He is doing this to pick out his uncle’s supporters while searching for me replacement.”
“Replacement?” Caelan sputtered, dropping his cutlery to face her fully. “What are ye talking about?”
Oh, she forgot that she had not told her cousin about William’s ridiculous terms. Unfortunately, she was not in the mood to explain.
“Replacement? Well, I can see why he might want that, seeing that ye want him to disappear and return to wherever he came from. But now that I think about it, yer curse might come in handy,” Caelan joked.
That got her attention.
She turned to him. “What do ye mean?”
“Since yer husbands have the annoying habit of kicking the bucket on their wedding nights, perhaps marrying the new Laird might see him off for good,” he suggested with a chuckle.
