“That depends.” Noah didn’t wait for an invitation and just stepped inside. MacTavish scrambled backward. “I’m here about Ava Harris.”
“Ava? What about her? If she’s caused some trouble?—”
“She’s caused no trouble. She’s leavin’ yer property, and I’m here to settle her accounts.”
MacTavish’s eyes lit with avarice. “Ah. Well, her lease runs another two months, so she owes?—”
“She owes ye nothin’.” Noah’s voice was cold. “She’ll pay this month’s rent. Any amount beyond that would be ye tryin’ to extort money from her.”
“It’s in the contract! Early termination requires?—”
“Show me this contract.”
MacTavish hesitated before rushing to a desk and grabbing a crumpled piece of parchment. Noah quickly scanned it, his jaw tightening with every line he read.
The terms were exploitative. The rent was excessively high for such a small cottage. Penalties for everything from late payments to “excessive wear” that seemed clearly designed to extract more money. Hidden in the middle was a clause stating that any early termination required payment of the full remaining lease.
“This contract is shite,” Noah said flatly.
“It’s perfectly legal!”
“Legal, perhaps. But also designed to trap a young woman with limited means into payin’ ye far more than she should.” Noah pulled out his coin purse. “Here’s what’s goin’ to happen. I’m goin’ to pay ye what Miss Harris actually owes, rent through the end of this month. Ye’re goin’ to accept it with gratitude. And ye’re goin’ to tear up this contract and never attempt to collect another penny from her. Understood?”
“But the lease clearly states?—”
“I daenae care what the lease states.” Noah took a step closer, using his considerable height to his advantage. “Ye’ve been overchargin’ that lass for years. Chargin’ her for repairs that were never made, if the state of that cottage is anythin’ to judge by. So ye’ll take what I’m offerin’ and be grateful I’m nae reportin’ ye to the magistrate for fraud.”
MacTavish’s face went from red to white. “Me Laird, I never... I would never do that.”
“Take the money, MacTavish.”
The landlord’s hand shook as he accepted the coins Noah counted out.
“Aye, me Laird. Thank ye, me Laird.”
Noah left the house feeling oddly satisfied. Ava would probably scold him for interfering again, but he didn’t care. The look on MacTavish’s face when he realized he couldn’t cheat his way into more money had been worth it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Noah was still fuming as he made his way back through the village streets.
MacTavish, the landlord. Malcolm at the tavern. How many others in his territory were exploiting people they saw as powerless? How many young women like Ava were being taken advantage of simply because they had no one to defend them?
I’d thought me clan was better than this.
Had prided himself on managing fair lands and ensuring his people were protected and treated justly. But clearly, he’d been too focused on bigger issues—border disputes, trade agreements, council politics—while small injustices grew unnoticed in the villages.
Noah was so lost in his dark thoughts that he almost walked past the market stall. It was the flash of color that caught his eye—ribbons, dozens of them, in every shade imaginable, fluttering in the afternoon breeze.
Esther would like those.
The thought came unbidden but certain. His niece had so few pretty things, and after the terror of the past few days, she deserved something bright and cheerful. Something that would make her smile.
Noah approached the stall, where an elderly woman was arranging her wares. “How much for the ribbons?”
“Depends on which ones ye want, me Laird.” The woman’s eyes widened in recognition, but she didn’t curtsy—too old for such things, probably. “The silk ones are dearer, but the cotton will hold up better for a wee lass who plays hard.”
“Show me the blue ones. Cotton.”
