Gabriel nodded. He was counting every “laird” as if it were a precious diamond. Whether Fleming had simply forgotten or he’d meant the word intentionally, it doubled his total.
The barouche had to slow to a walk amid the crush of people. When it began to look like someone might be injured if they continued to press forward, Gabriel instructed Kevin to stop. “We’ll walk from here,” he said, reaching over the door to open it.
Fiona stepped down first, closely followed by the butler. “If they turn on you,” Kelgrove murmured, standing, “there won’t be a damned thing either of us can do about it.”
“I know. You can return to the house if you wish.”
The sergeant frowned. “Whether you’re still my commanding officer or not, Your Grace, I don’t think there’s any call for you to insult me.”
Gabriel grinned, clapping Adam on the shoulder. “That’s what I wanted to hear. If anything does go awry, stay close to Fiona,” he said, turning to watch as she threw her arms around a young lady who looked enough like her to be a cousin.
“You expect me to hide behind a woman’s skirts?” the sergeant returned, his posture indignant.
“No. I expect you to protect her.”
“I… Very well, sir.”
That seen to, Gabriel offered his arm to Fiona. They could all say he was just being polite if they wanted to; as long as she was beside him, he didn’t care what anyone else thought. The crowd immediately surrounded them. The majority of his tenants appeared mostly curious and a little shy at meeting their landlord for the first time in twenty years. For his part, smiling and being friendly and appearing… harmless wasn’t anything to which he was accustomed, but he did his damnedest. It went with the civilian clothes and riding in barouches and the stunning woman by his side.
Not everyone, though, seemed happy to see him. Those men, the ones on the fringes and the others who kept themselves shadowed behind their fellows, they caught and kept his attention. Had Dunncraigh sent him some troublemakers? Or were these men simply more wary and more suspicious of his motives than the rest of them? If it was the latter, they could still be reasoned with, convinced if not by his words then hopefully by his deeds. If they were the former, he might well find himself with a fight on his hands, after all. He refused to be comforted by that thought.
“Don’t glare,” Fiona said through her clenched smile as they made their way toward where the main tables had been placed. A hundred blankets covered the meadow grass around them—at least the villagers had come prepared to sit on the ground.
“I’m assessing,” he countered, but smoothed his expression anyway.
“They like ye, I think,” she continued after a moment. “I ken they’ve heard aboot the sheep, by now, and how ye helped Ailios. They’ll listen, at least, which was more than I expected.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Just whatdidyou expect?”
Fiona shrugged, her eyes dancing. “A few cabbages thrown at ye, at least.”
If she was teasing, the day must be going well. “I’ll remember you said that.”
Rather than climbing on a chair again, this time he opted for the top of the church’s steps. Father Jamie joined them, and though Gabriel had been somewhat suspicious of the parson after Sir Hamish had spent so much time supposedly reassuring him about the Englishman who’d arrived at Lattimer, today the man looked ready to weep with joy at the sight of all his flock gathered together.
“This is grand,” he breathed, clasping his hands together. “Och, this is grand.”
Gabriel waved a hand as the horde crowded before the church. If he had his say, this would only be the first time they saw Fiona and him arm in arm here. That, though, was a promise for another day.
“Good afternoon,” he called. “Thank you all for coming. Most of you have likely heard by now that the Duke of Dunncraigh offered to purchase this property from me, and that I refused his offer.”
“We heard he’s banished us all from clan Maxwell!” an angry male voice called out—one of the men hiding himself from clear view.
“That isnae so,” Fiona took up. “We’re as important to the Maxwell as we ever were—which isnae much at all. When’s the last time any of ye set eyes on him?”
“Yesterday!” another one yelled.
“Aye, yesterday, because Lattimer being here finally made him notice us. Did ye see him when Brocair burned to the ground four years past? Or when the irrigation dam broke and flooded all the fields east of the loch? I saw his men every year, coming to collect his tithe, and I saw him when my uncle Hamish took me to Dunncraigh, but he’s nae come to visit on his own fer at least a decade.”
“My Harold died of fever three years back,” an older woman stated. “Miss Fiona came to see me and sat with me and brought me a nice meal, and saw that my roof was patched. I nae heard a word from Laird Dunncraigh, and Harold served his da’ fer all those years.”
“Laird Lattimer saved my life,” a more familiar voice said thinly. Gabriel looked over to see Ailios Eylar sitting on a chair, a blanket across her knees. “And he went oot of his way to do it.”
“I’m pleased to see you out of doors, Mrs. Eylar,” Gabriel returned, inclining his head. “But I have to argue with you on one point: I didn’t go out of my way. I’ve lived most of my life as a soldier. I looked after my men, I fought beside them, and I went where I was ordered to go. This—Lattimer, MacKittrick, whatever you choose to call it”—and he gestured at the expanse around them—“is the first time I’ve felt like I’ve had a home since I was seventeen years old.”
It felt odd to say it all aloud, but he didn’t see any point in creating some elaborate, heroic fiction about destiny. He would tell them the truth, because that was who he was. They could take that truth and either believe he could and would help them, or not. As he looked out over the sea of faces, he hoped he’d chosen the right tack.
“I’m a simple man,” he went on. “I had no idea I was related to a duke, much less that I had become his sole heir. Before this happened I thought I would be a soldier until I died or grew too old to hold a rifle.” He smiled ruefully. “I reckoned it would be the former. I didn’t expect this life. I certainly didn’t expect to find a home, or a place where I could be useful. I know you don’t trust me. You have no reason to do so. My great-uncle neglected this place to a shocking degree. But I’m not him. And it is my goal, my duty, to do better than he did.”
