Page 85 of Ghost of the Ton

“I dinnae want to hear it!” Maisie huffed.

“Och, come here, Maisie, hen,” Rory said, drawing her close for a kiss. “Ye know I’d never look twice at her. She’s not as pretty as ye. But she’d do for Brodie—give him a son to take over as head groom.” He turned to Mia. “Ye see, lass, that’s the tradition here. The menfolk will hand their livelihoods over to their sons. Brodie’s da was head groom before him, weren’t he, lad?”

Brodie nodded, his color deepening.

“And what do they do with their daughters?” Mia said. “Or do daughters have no worth?”

“Och, they’re worth a lot, lass,” Rory said. “They become wives of the menfolk. Well…the respectable daughters become wives.”

Maisie’s hand slipped and her basket fell to the floor. Mia picked it up and handed it to her. The other woman’s eyes were gleaming with moisture, and Mia caught a sheen of vulnerability that disappeared as soon as it came, as if, for a heartbeat, the armor protecting Maisie’s heart had slipped—as Mia’s armor had almost slipped last night.

“Maisie?” Mia said, taking her hand.

Maisie shook her head. “It’s nothing.” Then she turned to Rory and gave him a hard smile. “Well!” she said, a little too brightly. “It seems as if I’m not needed here. Mia, I’ll come tomorrow and see how ye’re getting on. I’m sure I spotted some wild thyme yesterday, and I can show ye where it is.”

Rory raised his eyebrows. “Shall I come with ye, Maisie?”

“No,” came the reply. “There’s a bed needing warming and my empty pockets are in need of a coin or two.”

Without waiting for a response, she took the basket and exited the parlor.

“What was that about?” Brodie said. “Did I say something amiss?”

“Och, I dinnae ken,” Rory said with a sigh. “I’ll never understand women. Begging yer pardon, Mistress Mia, but ye’re an enigma to us. Master Hamish said just the same last night. Perhaps ye can tell me why my Maisie turns from being the happiest, most carefree lass in the world to a harridan?”

But a knock on the door spared Mia the need to reply as Aileen MacLennan arrived, ready to take her to the school.

Which was just as well—for there was nothing to gain from explaining to a man what love did to a woman.

Chapter Twenty-Two

As Hamish entered the schoolroom, a child sitting at the back turned to look at him. The boy colored, his eyes widening as he recognized his laird. Hamish placed his finger on his lips.

“Shh, Calum,” he whispered. “Ye must listen to what ye hear in school if ye’re to grow up to be a fine lad like yer da.”

The boy nodded, then resumed his attention on the teacher who sat on a chair at the front of the schoolroom, her bandaged foot resting on another chair…

…and the woman standing beside her.

Hamish caught his breath as he watched Mia deftly bandage the teacher’s foot.

“So, as you see, I’ve wound this tight enough to ensure that Mrs. MacLennan’s ankle is supported, but not so tight as to—” She broke off as she caught sight of Hamish. He smiled encouragement, and, after a pause, she returned the smile and his heart swelled to see that the disgust in her eyes of last night had gone.

The class turned to stare at him, and whispers threaded through the room.

“Children!” the teacher said. “Ye know better than to chatter during a lesson. Now, it appears that we have another guest today. What do ye say to Laird MacLennan?”

“Good afternoon, Laird MacLennan!” the children chorused.

“Is there anything we can help ye with, Yer Lordship?” the teacher asked.

“No, Mrs. MacLennan,” Hamish replied. “I’ve come to learn about bandages. Please continue.” He gestured to Mia. What ought he to call her in front of the children?

The teacher came to his rescue.

“Miss Lucas has been teaching us about more than bandages, sir.”

Hamish winced.