considered how his mother’s impending marriage would affect both properties. If he had an opinion, Malcolm did not offer it. Instead he listened, nodded, and said little. Judging by the hard look in his brown eyes, the prospect did not please him.
When the mantel clock chimed thrice, the men put aside their saucers and ventured out of doors for a tour of the farm, leaving the widow and Rose behind to fend for themselves. Lachlan led the party, gathering his future stepsons round him while Jamie followed a step behind. It proved an enlightening vantage point as he heard Lachlan take sole credit for Auchengray’s vast flocks and congratulate himself for everything his nephew had accomplished.
Jamie listened in disgust. Only a week ago Lachlan had insisted the Lord had blessed his flocks because of his hardworking son-in-law. Now Jamie’s contribution remained unmentioned as his uncle stood at the top of Auchengray Hill, waving his arm in a slow arc to indicate all the lands and flocks that belonged to him.
Heir to Auchengray as well?
Malcolm’s question still taunted Jamie, a charge for which he had no good answer. He would inquire the same of Lachlan as soon as the sons of Edingham Farm found their way back home.
“Jamie?” Lachlan turned round and folded his arms across his chest, clearly put out with him. “You have not said two words since we left the mains.”
“But, Uncle—”
“I presume you’d rather be marking lambs than listening to me.”
“That’s not—”
“Off with you, then.” Lachlan jerked his head toward the hills, making his intentions clear. “Do not fear. I’ll see our guests well provided for.”
Jamie felt at loose ends, being so abruptly dismissed. He took a few steps, then turned back. “Will the three of you be heading to Urr parish this evening?”
Malcolm started to respond, but Lachlan was too quick for him.“Their mother will return home in the morn. As to her sons, they’ll stay for supper, then be bound for Edingham before nightfall since they’ve livestock of their own that require attention.” He rested his hands on two broad shoulders, giving Gavin and Ronald each a firm shake. “Best see to your lambs, Jamie, or ’twill be difficult to tell which are yours and which are mine.”
Seven
Wickedness is always easier than virtue;
for it takes the short cut to every thing.
S AMUEL J OHNSON
L achlan McBride pinned a hard gaze to the lad’s chest, daring him to stay. Did he enjoy being humiliated, this nephew of his?
“As it happens, Uncle, my lambs are all marked.” Jamie’s jaw clenched as he spoke.
Ah, but his
fists
were not clenched, Lachlan noted. Jamie lacked the
smeddum
for fighting. Lachlan released his grip on the two brothers, ne’er taking his eyes off his nephew. “How many sheep are yours? Or have you not counted?”
“I have.” Jamie’s tone had a sharp edge. “Twenty score lambs bear my keel mark.”
“Four hundred, eh?” Lachlan took care not to smile as he pointed to a nearby pasture. “The ones that look like their necks are bleeding?”
“You ken the paint will wash out with hot water and lye soap.” Jamie jerked his chin at him. “I’ve chosen the smaller of each twin, as I promised.”
He acknowledged Jamie’s words without agreeing to them, lest his future stepsons leap to the wrong conclusion. Lachlan fished his watch out of his waistcoat pocket and flipped open the gold case.
Nearly five. Enough dallying.
“With Duncan away to Kingsgrange, there must be tasks in the steading that require your attention.”
His nephew glared at him. “There’s always work to be done at Auchengray.” Jamie spun on his heel—though none too effectively on the soggy ground—and headed downhill toward the farmyard, his polished boots covered with mud.
Lachlan watched the departure without comment. Let him muckout the stables if his muscles needed flexing. Jamie McKie, born to a wealthy laird, had yet to learn the meaning of hard
When the mantel clock chimed thrice, the men put aside their saucers and ventured out of doors for a tour of the farm, leaving the widow and Rose behind to fend for themselves. Lachlan led the party, gathering his future stepsons round him while Jamie followed a step behind. It proved an enlightening vantage point as he heard Lachlan take sole credit for Auchengray’s vast flocks and congratulate himself for everything his nephew had accomplished.
Jamie listened in disgust. Only a week ago Lachlan had insisted the Lord had blessed his flocks because of his hardworking son-in-law. Now Jamie’s contribution remained unmentioned as his uncle stood at the top of Auchengray Hill, waving his arm in a slow arc to indicate all the lands and flocks that belonged to him.
Heir to Auchengray as well?
Malcolm’s question still taunted Jamie, a charge for which he had no good answer. He would inquire the same of Lachlan as soon as the sons of Edingham Farm found their way back home.
“Jamie?” Lachlan turned round and folded his arms across his chest, clearly put out with him. “You have not said two words since we left the mains.”
“But, Uncle—”
“I presume you’d rather be marking lambs than listening to me.”
“That’s not—”
“Off with you, then.” Lachlan jerked his head toward the hills, making his intentions clear. “Do not fear. I’ll see our guests well provided for.”
Jamie felt at loose ends, being so abruptly dismissed. He took a few steps, then turned back. “Will the three of you be heading to Urr parish this evening?”
Malcolm started to respond, but Lachlan was too quick for him.“Their mother will return home in the morn. As to her sons, they’ll stay for supper, then be bound for Edingham before nightfall since they’ve livestock of their own that require attention.” He rested his hands on two broad shoulders, giving Gavin and Ronald each a firm shake. “Best see to your lambs, Jamie, or ’twill be difficult to tell which are yours and which are mine.”
Seven
Wickedness is always easier than virtue;
for it takes the short cut to every thing.
S AMUEL J OHNSON
L achlan McBride pinned a hard gaze to the lad’s chest, daring him to stay. Did he enjoy being humiliated, this nephew of his?
“As it happens, Uncle, my lambs are all marked.” Jamie’s jaw clenched as he spoke.
Ah, but his
fists
were not clenched, Lachlan noted. Jamie lacked the
smeddum
for fighting. Lachlan released his grip on the two brothers, ne’er taking his eyes off his nephew. “How many sheep are yours? Or have you not counted?”
“I have.” Jamie’s tone had a sharp edge. “Twenty score lambs bear my keel mark.”
“Four hundred, eh?” Lachlan took care not to smile as he pointed to a nearby pasture. “The ones that look like their necks are bleeding?”
“You ken the paint will wash out with hot water and lye soap.” Jamie jerked his chin at him. “I’ve chosen the smaller of each twin, as I promised.”
He acknowledged Jamie’s words without agreeing to them, lest his future stepsons leap to the wrong conclusion. Lachlan fished his watch out of his waistcoat pocket and flipped open the gold case.
Nearly five. Enough dallying.
“With Duncan away to Kingsgrange, there must be tasks in the steading that require your attention.”
His nephew glared at him. “There’s always work to be done at Auchengray.” Jamie spun on his heel—though none too effectively on the soggy ground—and headed downhill toward the farmyard, his polished boots covered with mud.
Lachlan watched the departure without comment. Let him muckout the stables if his muscles needed flexing. Jamie McKie, born to a wealthy laird, had yet to learn the meaning of hard
Similar Books
