Leathen eyed him. “Wot do ye know of the new laird?”
“Nothing,” Irvine said quickly, covering his tracks. “But not all lairds are the same.”
Leathen chuckled, and Irvine let out a slow inward breath that he hadn’t given himself away.
“Lad, I’ve seen enough in mah time. How do ye think that this farm was created by mah ancestors? They had endured far too much working for a laird that had no care for them. Speak tae the tenants. They will tell ye of their plights, of their horrors.” He then sighed. “I wouldnae be surprised if those bandits last night weren’t sent by Laird McPearson himself.”
It wasn’t the first time Irvine had heard that thought. Would his great-uncle Kenneth try to thwart his attempts to gain this farm? It was clear that he thought he should be laird, which meant that Irvine would have to fail.
Killing him would be the easy way to ensure that his position was intact and he could move on. The thought darkened Irvine’s mood. Could his own flesh and blood do something like that?
Yes, he could.
“I know they are attempting tae get us tae flee,” Leathen said after a moment. “Or kill us so that they can take the farm themselves. It will be a cold day in hell before I allow it tae happen. Mah blood will be spilled before that happens.”
Before Irvine could respond, the door opened and Bridget swept in, her cheeks reddened from the cold wind.
“Sorry I was late!” she blurted, her eyes sparkling.
She is happy to see me,Irvine realized, which only made the pit of uncertainty grow in his stomach even more.
“Go on!” her father replied, shooing them away. “Before the snow comes!”
Irvine rose from the chair, and Bridget met him at the door, eyeing his coat.
“That looks familiar.”
“The fool lad didnae have one!” Leathen called out. “Go on with ye. Watch out for mah daughter, Bruce.”
“Aye, I will,” he stated thickly, wishing he didn’t have to lie to these people. The old Scot was going to slit his throat for the deception he had caused, and while he wanted to tell them, Irvine knew that all would be lost in the same breath.
They stepped outside, and Bridget clasped her hands together. “Would ye like tae go tae the loch? ’Tis not a long walk from here,”
Irvine cleared his throat, pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind for now. “Aye, that sounds perfect, lass.”
He would worry about everything later. Right now, he wished to spend his afternoon with Bridget.
10
Bridget walked alongside Bruce, her stomach full of nervous butterflies at the thought of spending time alone with him. It had gnawed at her all day, making her question why she had accepted his proposal to begin with, but the truth of the matter was that she wanted to.
She wanted to spend time with him. After last night, she had seen a different side of the Scot, a side that didn’t frighten her. He was as kind as she had hoped him to be, and now she wanted more from him.
Merdia had warned her to guard her heart against someone who would possibly be leaving in a matter of days, but Bridget feared that she was already starting to do so.
The path to the loch was overgrown after many years of disuse, and they had to pick their way to the edge, where the shaded trees were naked of their normal green leaves. Still, the loch was lovely, and Bridget drew in a cleansing breath, glad to be away from the tenants and her father for a little while.
“I didnae think tae bring a blanket,” Bruce frowned, looking at the cold ground.
“’Tis alright.” She smiled, surprised that he would think of her comfort. “I dinnae mind.” She gathered her skirts and lowered herself to the ground, feeling the barest hint of cold through the material.
Bruce lowered himself beside her, and they both stared out at the loch. “Yer mother,” he said after a moment, “wot happened tae her?”
“She caught the ague,” Bridget said softly, thinking about the day that she had passed on.
Bridget pushed past the crowd gathered outside the hut and fought her way in, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had been at Merdia’s hut to keep out of the way so that her mother could heal, but when the news reached her this morning, she had to come back home.
“Mother !” she called out, finding her father seated on the bed, his hand covering her mother’s.
