Page 32 of The Lyon and the Lass

“You are English!” The maid smiled and stuck her hand out. “I am Lady Lindsay and English as well. I understand you are seeking work?”

He was dumbstruck. This beautiful woman, dressed like a maid, was Lady of the Manor? This was the woman he was to kidnap and bring to Allenby to turn over to the slobbering, short, rotund man Allenby had indicated was the man he wanted her to marry?

He mentally shrugged. It wasn’t his problem. He needed to keep his opinions to himself, get the job done, and get money in his pocket.

He took her hand and said, “Yes, I have done all sorts of outside and inside work.”

“Excellent. We are trying to get the castle up to snuff and then keep into shape. It has been neglected for some time now. Presently, I could use someone to help my husband, Laird Lindsay, fix some of the cottages that are in dire need of repair.”

He stared at her like he was in a dream. Perhaps he was. “Your husband, the laird, is repairing cottages?”

“Yes. And he could use all the help he can get.” She smiled at him, and he found himself smiling back. What the devil was wrong with him? She was his target, the woman to snatch from her home and return to her uncle to do with her as he pleased.He took a deep breath. “Yes, my lady, I would like to help the laird out.”

“Did you get the chance to eat?”

Another surprise. The woman actually cared if an unknown man who walked into the castle looking for work had received food. “Yes, I had a wonderful meal.”

“You may sleep in the stables where we recently added a few rooms for the male employees we needed to hire. Eventually, there will be a separate building, but I’m afraid for now you will have to make do with that.” She chattered away, waving her arms around. “If you bring your things with you, I will show you to a cot you may use and then direct you to where my husband is working.”

He trooped alongside her as she went on and on about how she came from London to marry Laird Lindsay and how she’d found things in such poor condition.

Since she seemed so open about her life, he decided to gain more information which might help in removing her from the castle and returning her to Lord Allenby. “How long have you been married to the laird?”

“Several weeks now.” She blushed and looked at him.

This woman had certainly broken free from her upbringing. Although never a member of the upper crust, he knew enough about it and had worked a few jobs for the nobs. Lady Lindsay was in an altogether different category. Of course, based on what her uncle had told him, she was resourceful enough to climb out her bedroom window and disappear, escaping the man’s plans. That was certainly not usualtonbehavior.

Then she ended up in Scotland married to a laird. He shook his head.

They walked in the direction of the village he just came from but stopped about 200 falls short. The sound of hammers pounding away led them to a cottage where two men workeddiligently while a very old man sat outside on a tree stump watching them.

“Husband, I brought you another worker.”

The man she called to turned toward her from where he squatted on the roof. Yes, the Laird of Lindsay was not sitting on his bottom and giving orders. He was working right alongside one of the other men. “Great news, wife. I could use another set of hands,” the man said, wiping sweat from his face.

“This is Mr. Rupert Sanders.”

The laird waved and jumped from the roof. He certainly was large, as her uncle had said. Brutish, however? From his friendly smile and warm demeanor, that was hard to discern.

“I will leave you here to help. The laird will direct you in what you will do. Supper is served in the great hall.” With a warm smile and a wave at her husband, she walked off, leaving him once again wondering why he should remove this happy woman from a happy husband and drag her back to her uncle for a life of misery. He had no doubt that was where she’d been headed, or she wouldn’t be in Scotland married to someone else.

Money.

He’d been paid to do a job and wouldn’t get the rest of the payment if he didn’t produce her. He had to put himself first. In all his life, he’d never had a guaranteed roof over his head or food for his belly. Since he’d been a child he’d looked out for himself. It was too late to change now.

“What do you need me to do, Laird?”

Later that eveningas Christine and Kerrigan lay in bed, holding hands, still catching their breath from their lovemaking, she said, “How did that new man do today?”

“Verra well. He kenned how to do a lot of things I thought I would have to teach him. He dinna talk, just did his work. Where did ye find him?”

She shrugged. “He walked into the kitchen and said he’d heard in the village that we were looking to hire people.”

“He’s English.” Her husband said it like it was an illness.

She huffed. “Very observant, husband. Your observation abilities continue to amaze me.”

Kerrigan reached over and pulled her head next to his. “Are ye making fun of me, lass?”