In theory he was good husband material, but she’d thought of him first as a brother, then as a brother she despised. She couldn’t imagine having romantic feelings for him no matter how attractive he was. “There will be no shortage of Thorsayian girls applying for the position of your wife, and most of them are better tempered than I am.”
“So you’re going to be a terrifying teacher. Not the first such I’ve had.” He gestured toward the benches. “It’s time for my first lesson. Where do I even begin learning how to be a good laird?”
Surprised, she said, “Don’t you want to go into Clanwick?”
“Not today. I only took this path because I wanted some fresh air.” He settled on one end of the bench, frowning as he gazed down the coast toward Skellig House. “Is it my imagination, or has the coastline changed shape?”
“It’s not your imagination,” she replied as she sat on the far end of his bench and pulled her shawl more tightly against the wind. It was always windy here. “Thorsay has storms of all sizes but very rarely any of the great hurricanes. But one of those struck two summers ago. Chunks of the shore were torn away. In South Cronsay, a cottage with four people in it was dragged into the sea.”
“Did they survive?” he asked softly.
She shook her head. “No one could have survived the power of the waves. Livestock was lost as well, and because it was near the harvest, most of the barley crop was destroyed. Not long after the storm came a vicious fever that swept across Thorsay and killed far too many people. It was a bad year, and the islands haven’t recovered yet.”
He frowned. “I knew none of this.”
“It will all be on your shoulders soon enough.” She studied Ramsay, thinking that there hadn’t been a man in Thorsay so well dressed since the old laird had stopped visiting London. She supposed that embassy officials needed to look impressive. “But I doubt you’ll need as much tutoring as the old laird thinks. You grew up here, after all, and you’re reasonably clever. You’ve had a long journey home to think about this. You tell me what you think your duties will be when you become laird.”
“You really do want to make me work.” He stretched his long legs out and crossed them at the ankles as he thought. “I believe the first and least interesting responsibility is administrative. Dealing with the Scottish government in Edinburgh and sometimes the central government in London. Maintaining the official connections that make Thorsay part of a larger nation.”
She hadn’t thought of the governmental tasks in quite that way. “I should think you’d be good at bureaucracy since you’ve worked in an embassy. What else?”
“Looking out for all islanders,” he said slowly. “Thorsay is not rich, but there should be enough resources to ensure that no one goes hungry or homeless.”
“That includes caring for orphans as Duncan and Caitlin did for both you and me,” she commented. “Islanders are good at looking out for our neighbors, but there are always some who will need extra help. What else will you need to learn?”
“How to oversee the family properties. Sheep. Cattle. The peat cuttings. The fishing boats. I’m neither farmer nor sailor. I’m sure my grandfather has competent managers, but I should understand what needs to be done and why.”
“An admirable ambition.” She tried to imagine him cutting peat and failed. “Don’t forget that one of the laird’s chief duties is administering justice. You’re the only magistrate on Thorsay.”
His brow furrowed. “I recall that in the library there was a large book of the laws of the land, and a smaller volume that listed Thorsayian customs and particularly interesting cases. I need to study it to get a better sense of how justice is administered.”
“Surely you sat in on some of the court sessions when you were a boy?” Signy had done that, and had always been fascinated by the cases and how they were handled.
“Yes, but it’s been a lot of years. As I recall, the laird was usually lenient with crimes that didn’t involve injury or serious destruction of property.”
Signy nodded. “Grandmother Caitlin once said to me that the island population is small and poor, so we need to deal gently with each other.”
“That’s a good philosophy.” Ramsay frowned. “I wonder if there should be a couple more magistrates. One on Cronsay and one on Stromburgh since they’re the largest islands after Mainland.”
“That would break with tradition, but it’s an interesting idea,” she said thoughtfully. “It would reduce the workload for the laird and be safer in winter when the seas are rough and it’s hard to travel from the outer islands to Mainland.”
“Could you suggest some men who might make good magistrates?”
“Ian Maclean on Stromburgh and Jean Olson on Cronsay.” She gave him a challenging glance. “Unless you’re too old-fashioned to appoint a woman to such an important post.”
“If we’re going to break with tradition, we might as well be thorough,” he said imperturbably. “Magistrates are usually chosen because they are mature, wise, and respected members of the community. I assume that’s true of the two people you’re suggesting.”
“Yes, though of course you’ll want to draw your own conclusions,” she said absently, distracted by the way the wind was playfully blowing his hair about. “Why is your hair dark at the ends?”
“In Constantinople I dyed it dark brown so I looked less European when I went into the streets,” he explained. “I couldn’t change the color of my eyes, but with dark hair, tanned complexion, and local clothing, I didn’t attract much notice.”
Her brows arched. “Do most embassy officials try so hard to fit in? Or does this have something to do with you being a special projects secretary to the ambassador?”
“The latter.”
“That suggests that you were a spy for the embassy,” she said thoughtfully. “Will you miss the excitement of that work?”
“Some interesting projects walked through my door. I don’t expect the same here,” he admitted.
