Page 5 of A Highlander for the English Widow

“Hae ye nae heard?” Iain continued, looking shocked when Logan said that he hadn’t. “Ach, lad, dinnae ye know what’s happening in yer own village?”

“The matters of the English dinnae concern me,” Logan replied.

“Well, this one might. She’s a widow now. The duke died.”

Logan arched his eyebrows with surprise at the news. He only knew the duchess in passing. She lived on the grand estate that had been passed down through a Scottish family that had ended up moving down to England but had kept the estate. A few years back, she had arrived, but she had always kept to herself. Logan had never made a serious effort to get to know her. There always seemed to be something else to do. He had no ill will toward her, although he did find it strange that she had not been joined by her husband. He supposed he should try and send her a message of condolence, though, although he wasn’t sure if he should pity her. He hadn’t met the duke many times, but from what he recalled, he was a crude man and never had much love for the Scottish. Logan had always wondered why he had been so eager to keep ahold of his lands in the Highlands when he showed nothing but disdain for the local people.

Ah well, he thought, there is one less mean person in the world. God takes enough good people. It is about time he took someone who deserved tae leave.

He thanked Iain for the extra information and then continued on his way, working through the crowd when suddenly he bumped into a woman. Her hair was as blonde as the radiant sun and her eyes as green as the lush valleys that ran through the Highlands. He found himself smiling at her and offering his hand to steady her. She looked at it as though there was something stopping her from accepting, and then pressed her lips together and smiled at him.

“I apologize for my haste. I did not pay proper attention to where I was going. I hope I did not do you any harm,” she said in a clipped accent that was most decidedly English, contrasting starkly with the rolling Scottish burr that most people possessed. It made her stand out, though, and he realized who he was speaking to. Haes she always been this beautiful? he wondered, and then thought that perhaps he hadn’t paid close enough attention to her.

He bowed his head and wore a solemn look on his face. “Duchess Fernsby, I am sorry for yer loss,” he said.

3

Amanda had been startled when she barreled into this tall, well-bred man whose body seemed to be devoid of fat and was made up of pure muscle. He had short, dark brown hair that reminded her of the soft night and blue eyes that held as much mystery as the sky itself. She tilted her head up to look at him and had been tempted to take his hand when he offered it, but she wasn’t sure what people would think. And then he had said those words that plagued her mind, the words that had fallen from so many people’s mouths intending to be comforting but only being daggers in her heart.

Still, she braced herself and wore the same feigned smile that she had practiced well.

“Thank you, but I am no longer the duchess. That title left me when the duke died and left no heir. There is another duke and duchess now, back in England. I am simply Lady Fernsby, although you may call me Amanda. I believe that is easier on the tongue than the alternative,” she said.

The man raised his head and smiled. “Then I shall call ye Amanda,” he said.

When Amanda had first arrived in Scotland it had taken her a long while to get used to the accents, but after spending so much time here, it was second nature to her, and she rather liked the rolling rhythm.

“I hae been meaning tae come and pay my respects tae ye, both from me and my da.”

“Your father?” she asked, frowning a little for she wasn’t sure she knew this man.

“Aye, the laird,” he said, and then everything fell into place. Her estate was a small walk from the village, and technically it was its own land, although she considered it part of the village because she did not like to isolate herself. The duke had never had much concern with the laird, even though the local custom was to give respect and deference to the laird. Amanda had met the man a few times, and now she saw the resemblance. What was his name? Ah, yes…Hamish. She had always had a talent for remembering people’s names. It came in handy when in the court.

“Well, please pass on my thanks to him as well. Your kind words are always appreciated.”

“I know this must be a difficult time for ye. If there’s anything ye need, please dinnae hesitate tae ask,” Logan said.

Again, Amanda offered him a small smile. How she wished she could tell everyone that she was happy to be free and that she wanted to dance. Instead, she had to play the part of a grieving widow, having to be aching with sorrow and heavy with regret. She had no idea how long she had to be like this for, but even a day was too long.

“I shall do so, and once again, I apologize for disturbing you,” she said, and began to turn away. Before she did so, however, he called back to her.

“I actually think it was my fault for nae looking where I was gaeing. Perhaps ye would agree tae walk through the market with me? That way I can escort ye and ensure that naybody else bumps intae ye,” he said.

Amanda’s first instint was to refuse, but his smile was charming and there was a disarming look in his eyes. Ordinarily it would have been scandalous for her to be seen with another man without an escort, but she did not have to think about such matters now. She was free to walk with whomever she wanted, and she decided that she wanted to take advantage of this boon. So she found herself nodding and fell into step with Logan. They walked through the market and looked at the wares being offered, chuckling to each other about the way the merchants tried to tease people away from their coin.

“I fear that these merchants have come to us at the wrong time. People do not have as much coin to spare as usual,” she said.

Logan rubbed his chin. A layer of stubble peppered his square jaw.

“Aye, the weather was harsh this year. There are gaeing tae be lean times ahead.”

“I should hope that this year will be better. And I hope that people are sensible enough to only buy things they can afford. They need bread more than they need some shining trinket.”

“Aye, but they also want tae be happy,” Logan said.

Amanda arched her eyebrows and chuckled. “I suppose you and I should not be the ones talking about what they can spend their money on. Our stores are full.”

“The weather hit us badly as well, and we hae tae share our crops with the rest of the people tae ensure they dinnae starve.”