Chapter Twenty
Heaven help him if Fiona decided to aid and abet Mari in defying him, Jamie thought as he entered the library after dinner and poured a wee dram of the Scotuisge-beathahe had missed while in England. The lasses—both of them—had tendencies to blunder into situations from which they needed rescuing, even if they didn’t think they did. Fiona had always been strong-willed with an inquisitive nose for adventure that usually landed her in spots she should not be. Mari was also stubborn and had an equal inclination to head off in directions she should not take.
Unfortunately, he was still in charge of their welfare. Shane had already gone back to Edinburgh for his overdue trip to France, and Ian spent his available time with Jillian in their bedchamber. According to both the physician and the midwife whom Ian paid to stay in the castle, the bairn was due in a fortnight. Once the bairn was born and Jillian truly on the road to recovery, Ian would once again take over ruling the castle—and the lasses.
Surely Jamie could last two weeks with the little vixens. He drained the dram, allowing the smooth, mellow taste to slide down his throat before the fiery contents warmed his stomach, and then poured another. All he had to do was keep Mari and Fiona occupied so they would not have time to hatch any plans—especially not ones that included Fiona travelling to London.
Jamie heard the door open and turned to see his uncle and Broc enter. Neither of them looked pleased, and Jamie was tempted to drain the second whisky as well but held on to the glass instead.
“Ye wish to join me in a dram?”
“Aye,” Broc answered as he opened the bottle to pour two drinks. “And we want to know why we have yet another English bitch in the house.”
Jamie raised a brow. “I dinnae think Ian would care to have ye address his sister-by-marriage in such a manner.”
“All English women are bitches or whores.”
Jamie set down his glass. “Ye will nae call Mari Barclay either of those names.”
Duncan studied him. “Do ye have a fondness for the lass?”
Broc snorted. “A fondness to rut with her if he hasna already.”
“One more word, and ye will be on yer arse with a bloody nose,” Jamie said as he rolled back his sleeve.
“Enough,” Duncan said to Broc. “We didnae come here to squabble.” He turned back to Jamie. “With the early blizzard, our plans were foiled in waylaying the damn countess—”
“’Tis a good thing,” Jamie interrupted. “Ye would be willing to risk the redcoats warring with us again because of Countess Sutherland?”
“She burned hundreds of crofters out of their homes.” Broc practically spat the words out. “All because she wanted to raise sheep for more of the filthy English money.”
“I agree the Clearances are a grievous thing,” Jamie replied, “but taking on a contingent of English soldiers escorting Sutherland would only put Ian’s lands in jeopardy. Old King George is barmy, and the regent lives a grand life, always looking for ways to refill his coffers. Ye ken as well as I that raising taxes has sent many a clan off their ancestral lands. Do ye wish such for us?”
“Nae,” Duncan muttered, “but we thought of a better way to get rid of that bitch who has no right to call herself a Scot.”
“I dinnae wish to hear it.”
“Dinnae tell me ye have taken a fancy for the English?” Broc sneered. “Or maybe ’tis the English bitch—” His words and wind were cut with Jamie’s fist landing in his face and he lurched backward, holding his broken nose.
“Ye want more?” Jamie asked, taking a menacing step toward the man.
“Nae,” his uncle broke in and grabbed Broc by the arm, “but ye would be wise to listen to the plan. Mayhap another time.”
Jamie watched them walk to the door, calmly returning the murderous look Broc was giving him through a rapidly swelling eye. Ian would have to be told about the plot, but for now, Jamie would keep a close eye on both of them.
Mari hurried away from the door before any of the men could come out. She had not meant to eavesdrop, but merely to find a book she could read to Jillian. She managed to slip into the room that served as a parlor just as Duncan and Broc stomped down the hall toward the front door.
Shuana looked up from the book she was reading. “I thought ye had gone to bed.”
Startled, Mari turned. She had not expected to find someone in here. “I was on my way to the library when I overhead loud voices arguing—”
“Our uncle and his half-brother,” Shauna replied. “Something always seems to stir their blood. Pay them nae mind.”
Mary tilted her head to study Shauna. She seemed sensible and less formidable than Bridget. Perhaps it was a godsend she was here. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Nae at all. What is it?”
“I couldn’t help but overhear a bit of the conversation in the library. What are the Clearances? I know it had something to do with clearing the land for sheep, but why?”
