7
Charlotte watched Laird Knox, doing little to hide the fact that he intrigued her. She had never heard of a man limiting how much he ate before training. Her father and brother tended to do the opposite—eating as much as they could, claiming it gave them the energy to fight. But she said nothing to either Laird Knox or Alastair, watching curiously as the Laird resigned himself to the contents of his glass for the rest of their meal.
She was grateful for the advisor’s presence as she could hardly think straight sitting this close to Laird Knox. Last night, it had been difficult to sit across from the man. He had such an intimidating stare paired with such a handsome face. When he had offered her the seat next to him, she thought it would be some kind of reprieve from the tension. But this morning, all she could focus on was his scent.
Even with all of the different foods laid out in front of them, she couldn’t get away from the very distinct smell that washim.It was dark and woodsy. The kind of smell that attaches to a person that has spent their entire life outside. She could smell the pine trees and the fresh spring water. Combined, it was intoxicating. She needed to get away from it, away from him before she did something to embarrass herself.
As quickly as she could manage without being impolite, Charlotte scarfed down her food. She answered the questions that Alastair posed and carried on conversation with him, all the while her thoughts ran rampant.
Here she was, enjoying a meal with the Laird and his advisor, contemplating marriage and what her future held while Alec was stuck out in the barn or the servants’ quarters with nothing but porridge, waiting for her. Her consciousness was torn into two. If she was loyal to the man who claimed to love her and had for the past two years, then she would never have accepted her father’s demands. But she had a duty to be loyal to her father and in turn, Laird Knox. It all made her head spin.
“If ye will excuse me,” she said suddenly, placing her napkin in her plate as she pushed away from the table, “I still have some settling in to do. I will leave ye two to yer meeting.”
She didn’t wait for an answer as she walked out of the room, knowing her thoughts would continue to follow her anyway.
* * *
Cameron’s cupwas frozen halfway to his mouth. It had been there since Charlotte had announced that she was through with breakfast. He couldn’t understand how she went from being perfectly happy to sit with them and talk to hastily leaving.
“What did ye do?” Alastair muttered, his head shaking in his hands.
“I did nae dae anythin’!” Cameron argued back. “Ye saw just as much as I did. I sat here, drinking my measly excuse for a meal and listened. I did nae say anything that would make her flee like that. Ye were the one doin’ all the talkin’. What did ye dae?”
“Doing. Talking. Do,” Alastair corrected. “If ye are to convince anyone that ye are the true Laird here, then ye must act like one. Ye must talk and think and eat like one.”
Cameron grit his teeth.
“I am trying my best.”
Every word was bit out with monumental effort. He was beyond annoyed to even be having this conversation with Alastair again.
“Well, ye must try harder. If someone were to find us out, ye could be imprisoned for impersonating a Laird. Or worse! The only thing that could keep ye from such a fate is marrying Charlotte. With the backing of the Sinclair family, nay one would dare accuse ye of anything.”
Letting the frustration melt away, Cameron reached for a piece of fruit, forgoing the fork entirely. The cold juice dripped down his fingers and to his wrist, but he paid it no mind.
“This is the kind of behavior I am talking about, Cameron. A Laird does nae eat with his fingers. Use yer fork.”
Cameron popped the fruit in his mouth, ignoring the advice entirely.
“I did nae ask for this, Alastair,” Cameron told him after draining the rest of his mug. “Ye came to me. Ye asked me to become Laird for the sake of the clan. I never intended to be or do any of this.”
His arms swung around, gesturing to the rest of the room.
“I was content to stay in the blacksmith’s shop and spend my days working there. So dinnae start pointin’ a finger at me. I am still learnin’ how to do all of this. Ye told me that ye would be back before her arrival so we could go over some of these things together. It was ye who broke yer word, nae me. So perhaps ye could give me a little credit. I am doin’ the best I can.”
Alastair sighed. Cameron knew that he had won the argument, at least for now. Everything he had said was the truth. This was all Alastair’s plan and there had been hardly any time for Cameron to learn the ropes. He was sure that he would master these things eventually, it would just take some time.
“Aye. Aye, ye are right.”
Cameron picked up another piece of fruit as he watched Alastair run a withered hand over the top of his smooth skull.
“I have been too hard on ye. I forget that most of the sons who take over the clan after their father are trained from infancy. Ye did nae have that luxury.”
Cameron grunted. There had been so little luxury in his life that it was almost laughable to think of him trying to be a part of the upper society now.
“But,” Alastair continued, ignoring his antics, “ye agreed to do this anyway. Ye uprooted yer life at my behest, for the betterment of the clan. For that, I am grateful. And one day, yer clan will be too. Ye had every right to refuse my request. We hardly ken each other and there was nay reason for ye to agree to all of this, but ye did it anyway. Ye deserve some credit for that.”
“It was nae for nay reason. Yer arguments were verra convincing. And though we might nae ken each other verra well, neither are ye a stranger. I would argue that ye are the only one who has tried to look out for me over the years. That was why I decided to hear ye out.”
