At her nod, they went into the parlor, which was really nothing more than a sparsely furnished room with a table in the middle surrounded by mismatched chairs. But the windows offered a view of the fields, and the sunlight trickling in through the glass caught on the tiny pieces of mica in the stone walls, and the air smelled of fresh citrus.
There was beauty to found here, Brynne reflected as she sat across from her husband. It wasn’t obvious, or easy to find. It would take work–hard work–to make it shine. For the castleandthis marriage. But it was possible. All hope needed was a single drop of rain to bloom. And heaven knew they had enough of it sitting around in buckets.
As Lachlan gazedat Brynne, her gloved hands demurely folded, her chin bowed, her eyes cast to the side, he felt like exactly what he was.
A great, bumbling lummox.
He’d let his Scot’s temper get the best of him…and he’d said things that he shouldn’t have. Things that were going to be difficult to take back in the calm after the storm. But damned if he wasn’t going to try.
Or at least, thatwasthe plan.
Until all hell broke loose.
“PIGS!” Adam McCrery cried as he catapulted into the parlor, splattering mud everywhere. An experienced farmer whom Lachlan had hired on last year to assist him in preparing the fields for sowing and planting, he was a quiet sort who never wasted a word. This was the first time, to Lachlan’s knowledge, that he’d ever raised his voice above a thoughtful whisper.
“What?” Brynne exclaimed as she half-rose from her seat.
“Pigs,” Adam repeated, throwing his arms wide for emphasis. “Twenty of them, maybe more. They got out of their pen last night and ontae the barley sometime early this morning.”
Lachlan couldfeelthe blood draining from his face. He gripped the arms of his chair to steady himself. “How much damage?” he asked grimly.
“We tried tae herd them off at the high ridge, but–”
“How much damage?” he repeated.
Adam hung his head. “All of it, Lachlan. They destroyed all of it.”
Chapter Nineteen
Lachlan was gonefor the rest of the day. Brynne offered to go with him to inspect the fields and see if anything could be done to salvage what the pigs had ruined, but he asked her to remain behind.
“Boars are nasty buggers,” he’d told her tersely as he had retrieved his rifle from above the mantel in the drawing room, “and can take down a man if they’ve the inclination. I’ll return when I can. It might not be until tomorrow.”
He had given her a chaste kiss on the cheek, and then he’d left, leaving her to fret and wander the castle grounds for what seemed like a small eternity.
At last, unable to sit idly by any longer even though that was precisely what Lachlan had asked her to do, she prepared a basket with bread, cheese, and sliced meats and set off to the distillery to see if there was anything she could do.
She was halfway down the winding trail when she was met by a dark-haired woman with blue eyes and a smile as sharp as the edge of a scalpel.
“Lady Campbell,” she said, stopping in the middle of the trail and lifting her lavender-colored skirts in a curtsy. “What an honor tae finally meet ye. I am–”
“Miss Allison Adair. Yes, I remember.” Shifting the heavy basket, Brynne was careful to keep her countenance devoid of expression as she addressed her husband’s former mistress. “I did not realize you’d be here.”
“Once word reached the village of what had happened, we all came as fast as we could tae help. Not fast enough, I’m afraid. All of the seedlings were lost. Lachlan, of course, is absolutely devastated.”
Lachlan.
Not Lord Campbell.
The distinction was slight…but purposeful, Brynne noted when she saw the gleam in Allison’s eyes.
“Is that for yer husband?” the brunette asked, reaching for the basket. “I’m happy tae take it tae him and save ye the trip.”
“That really isn’t–very well,” Brynne relented, automatically falling back upon her manners as Allison all but wrenched the basket from her hands. Well-bred ladies did not fight over chunks of cheese and peppered ham. “I’ll accompany you. Is Lachlan in the fields, or–”
“He’s resting in the lodge, but I shall make sure tae let him know that ye brought him this.” Allison peeled back the blanket Brynne had covered the food with to peer inside. “What a kind wife ye are, Lady Campbell. Lachlan is a fortunate man.”
How did Allison know where he was sleeping?
