Bridget had never heard of the name, but she wagered it wasn’t his true one, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling at his feeble attempt at lying.
“And ye?” Leathen asked the blue-eyed stranger, who was glaring at Irvine as if he could run a sword through him. “Wot is yer name?”
“’Tis Marcus,” Bruce answered for him, glaring back. “Our mothers were sisters, of course.”
“Of course,” Leathen replied, hiding his own smile. Bridget knew they would have a good laugh later about this interaction. “Well then, Bruce and Marcus, wot skills do ye have?”
“Anything really,” Bruce replied. “We work hard. Wherever ye need us is where we will work.”
“Good men then,” Leathen said dryly. “We could use some help in the stables and with gathering the wheat before the first snowfall. I cannae give ye any coin, but yer bellies will be full and yer arse warm. How does that sound?”
“Fair,” Bruce replied, glancing at Bridget. The way he was gazing at her caused her cheeks to warm, and she turned her head to hide the blush. What was wrong with her? She had never, well, she had never felt this way before.
“Aye. Well, good,” Leathen finally decided, holding out his hand. “Welcome tae our farm. We treat each other with the respect that is earned. If ye cause any sort of trouble, steal, or cheat anyone, I will gut ye. Understood?”
“Understood,” Bruce echoed as he clasped Bridget’s father’s forearm. “Ye wilnae have any trouble out of us.”
Marcus did the same, and Bridget drew in a breath. A Scot’s word was as good as anything else that they could offer, and Leathen wasn’t bluffing on his threat. They didn’t tolerate any disruptions in their peaceful existence, nor did they look for any trouble, which was why he was so concerned about the impending visit from the McPearsons. Bridget knew that he was expecting trouble.
“Did ye see anyone else on the road?” Leathen asked casually, eyeing each man.
Bruce looked over at Bridget, and she felt a funny fluttering in her stomach. “Yer daughter here told us ye are expecting a visit from a clan.”
Leathen spat in the dirt, his expression growing angry. “Aye, the bloody McPearsons are attempting tae steal mah farm again. They have tried for generations, but none have been successful, and I dinnae expect them tae be successful with me either.”
“Why do they want the farm so badly?” Marcus asked, his curiosity peaked now.
Leathen shrugged. “I dinnae know, but I will be cold in mah grave from defending it before they get their grubby hands on it.” He then drew in a breath. “But enough of that. Perhaps having two strapping Scots like ye here will scare them off. I assume ye know how tae use that sword, lad?”
Bridget watched as Bruce smiled, and the mere sight took her breath away.
Wait until Merdia sees these two! They are nothing like any other Scot here!
“Aye, I do,” he stated, his gaze sliding over to Bridget once more. “And I can understand why ye would want tae protect this place with yer life. ’Tis yer work.”
“’Tis mah land,” Leathen responded. “I put mah blood in this dirt as those that went on before us. I will defend it tae mah dying breath.”
“Which it will not come tae,” Bridget cut in, detesting when her father talked as if he would have to die one day. “We will refuse their request, and that will be the end of it all.”
“I hope so, Daughter,” he responded, giving her a smile. “Take these men tae the empty hut near the stable and get them some clean clothes. Feel free tae look around, meet some of the tenants. Ye will start yer work tomorrow.”
“Are ye their leader?” Bruce asked suddenly.
He chuckled, and Bridget smiled then. How many times had he been asked that question in her lifetime? She already knew the words he would say as they were the same words he told anyone that posed the question.
“Nay, lad. I’m no leader. I look out for their well-being, that is all.”
“A good quality of a leader,” Bruce added with a nod.
“Perhaps,” Leathen responded. “Go on with ye. Mah daughter Bridget will take care of whatever ye need.”
“Mah thanks,” Bruce murmured, his gentle voice sending shivers down her spine. “But we would prefer tae start as soon as today.”
“Alright,” Leathen shrugged. “Suit yerself. There is plenty of work tae go around, of course. Bridget, get them started in the stables so ye dinnae have tae do it any longer.”
Bridget wisely didn’t argue with her father in front of strangers, feeling angered that he thought she didn’t like her responsibilities. She never wished to have the same as Merdia or the other women tenants had. She wasn’t the sort to sit in the house and keep it up, but to have her hands on something like the horses, feeling a sense of pride at the end of the day…
“Aye, Father, I will,” she said instead. She would discuss it with him later when they didn’t have an audience.
