No, nothing they were doing was wise. They were only digging themselves deeper in their lies, and once they came to a head, and Irvine knew they would, it would be disastrous at best. Not only that, but Bridget was also the closest person to Leathen, and Irvine knew that no matter what he said in the end, it would look like he had used the young woman to get to her father.
Truth was, he enjoyed their time together. He hadn’t spent much time in the company of women over the last few years—not women that he wasn’t related to or the wenches at the local tavern that were all too willing to bed him.
This was new territory to him.
He liked Bridget.
“Dinnae allow yerself tae forget why ye are here,” Malcolm urged his friend, seeing the look of infatuation on his face. “Ye are tae be laird of the clan that they hate the most. I dinnae see her falling into yer arms easily once she learns the truth.”
Malcolm was right, but Irvine detested the fact that there was a small chance Bridget would detest him after he was able to complete this quest and become laird. It pained him to think of her beautiful eyes hardening with hate toward him.
“Have ye heard anything aboot a secret?” he asked instead, thinking of her words at luncheon.
“A secret?”
“Aye,” he responded, his jaw set. “Bridget mentioned it was the key tae how they are able tae remain from under a laird’s rule. She refused tae tell me yet.”
Malcolm sat up; his brow furrowed. “Then ye have tae woo her faster and find out. It could be the sole reason ye get them tae agree tae give ye the farm.”
Irvine knew that, but it didn’t make him feel any better for what he had to do. He hadn’t anticipated having to go through Bridget to get his hands on the farm.
“Aye,” he finally said. It would be what he had to do to secure his future with his own clan.
What he was learning, however, was that the farm was not much different than the clan at all. They were a family, just like his clan was, and provided for each other whenever needed. They worked together and knew that they could count on one another.
It was the same way he felt about his family, about the members of the clan that they were sworn to protect. Irvine would gladly lay down his life if need be, and he imagined that Bridget and her father would do the same for their tenants.
The only difference was the matter of support that the clan provided to the laird and his family. Their crops helped maintained the household, providing the food and ale that graced their tables.
The small amount of taxes that were levied against the clan members helped aid in strengthening the castle itself, and the walls that protected the clan. It also afforded the metal to make weapons or to levy some sort of ally who was wavering in their support.
The farm had none of those things, yet Irvine didn’t feel as if they needed them either. Perhaps the ways of the old world, the generations before him, weren’t the right way of doing things now, and when he became laird, he would look at it all. He wanted his clan to see him as these tenants saw Leathen and not as someone to be feared or disgusted by.
8
Bridget twisted her hands in her skirts nervously as she greeted the arriving tenants, directing them to where to set their gifts for the evening dinner. As was customary, everyone was asked to bring something to share, whether it was the gift of food or drink.
They had a reason to celebrate this evening. The crops were in, the fields now bare for the approaching winter. No more hard labor would be needed save for a few duties that would provide the upkeep of the farm, but her days were now free of gathering wheat.
It was part of the reason that everyone was smiling this evening as well.
“Daughter?”
Bridget turned to find her father standing next to her, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Hello, Da.”
“Ye did well today,” he stated, a hint of a smile on his weathered face. “Ye are a natural leader amongst these people. I hope that ye will be willing tae take on the role after I am gone.”
She placed her hand on his arm. “Let’s not talk aboot something that isnae going tae happen for quite some time from now.” Bridget couldn’t fathom not having her father at her side.
He chuckled, laying his hand on top of hers, patting it gently. “There will come a day that will happen, Bridget. I will join yer mither and revel in wot we have missed being separated like so for so many years. I will be able tae rest easy as well knowing that ye will be in charge of the farm and carry on our family’s traditions.”
His words touched her but also frightened her in the same breath. Be a leader? Sure, she knew everything there was about the tenants on the land and could work any part of the farm with her eyes closed. People did seem to listen to her when she spoke and generally came to her with issues since her father was always so busy with other things.
“Och, dinnae look now,” he said softly, “but those Scots are coming.”
Bridget’s heart thudded in her chest as she spied Bruce and Marcus heading their way, detesting the way her body warmed at Bruce’s intense gaze.
