Highland Storms (9 page)

Brice nodded. ‘Of course.’ He’d come prepared and reached into his saddle-bags to retrieve the documents Rory had procured for him. ‘Here’s the legal documentation.’

Seton took the papers reluctantly, as if he was afraid they’d burn him, and unrolled the official looking missives.
And metaphorically speaking, they might well singe you
, Brice thought to himself. Outwardly, he remained calm while the factor glanced at the first one. A long silence ensued, but Brice waited patiently.

‘
I’ll have to read these more carefully,’ Seton said at last and folded them again.

‘
Certainly.’ Brice held out his hand for the papers; he wasn’t about to let them out of his sight. ‘You may peruse them at your leisure later. For now, I’d be grateful if someone could see to my horse and …’ He gestured to the rest of the convoy as it came to a halt behind him. ‘I’ll need the
kellachs
unloaded and the animals put in a pen or enclosure. All the goods can just be stowed in the great hall for now, I suppose, then we can sort out where it’s going later. It’s probably a task for the housekeeper, in any case.’ He glanced around, but couldn’t see her among the bystanders, which was a shame. He’d been looking forward to surprising her almost as much as he had Seton.

The factor handed back the documents and looked as if he wanted to protest against these orders, but although he opened his mouth, no words came out. After a moment, his expression became shuttered and he bowed, wisely choosing not to dispute Brice’s authority in this instance. ‘
Fàilte
then, my lord,’ he said, even though Brice was sure the last thing Seton wanted was to welcome him. ‘I shall look forward to working with you.’

Brice noticed he said ‘with’, not ‘for’, as if they were equals, but let it go. He’d shocked the man and it wasn’t his intention to take away all his dignity in front of everyone. Until he could prove that Seton was guilty of gross mismanagement, he had to tread warily. It was even possible the factor was innocent and the blame lay elsewhere. It would be best to make sure before flinging any accusations about, Brice thought.

‘
Thank you,’ he replied.

Seton turned to shout, ‘You heard the man, move yourselves!’ Then he strode off without offering any assistance.

Brice took a deep breath and smiled when he noticed Archie peeping out from behind another, taller, boy. He beckoned him forward and held out Starke’s reins. ‘Here, you can be in charge of my horse. You know what to do, right?’

Archie beamed at him and stroked Starke’s muzzle. ‘Aye, sir … er, my lord, I dae.’ He glanced over his shoulder to make sure everyone else was out of earshot before whispering, ‘And right glad I am ye’re back and ye’re no’ Mr Aaron ony mair.’

Brice laughed and ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘Me too, Archie. Off you go now. Get someone to help you, eh?’

He watched the boy lead the huge horse away, summoning the taller lad to join him. Brice knew they wouldn’t come to any harm because Starke was the gentlest horse in Christendom and wouldn’t hurt a fly, despite his size. Satisfied the animal would be looked after this time, he turned his attention to overseeing the unloading of the goods. He didn’t just observe, but carried in his fair share. This resulted in some surprised looks, but he pretended not to notice. The inhabitants of Rosyth House would find out soon enough he wasn’t the kind of master who’d sit still and watch others do all the work.

Just as the last of the
kellachs
’ contents were being carried indoors, a woman came round the corner of the house and stopped to stare at all the commotion. She was clearly a lady, although her gown was faded and worn. Ash-blonde hair framed a heart-shaped face and Brice glimpsed pale, but sparkling blue eyes. She was shorter and plumper than the housekeeper he’d met on the previous occasion, but still attractive. When her eyes came to rest on him, she let out a shriek and came running over to throw her arms around his neck.

‘
Brice! By all that’s holy, what are you doing here? It is you, isn’t it? My, how you’ve grown!’

He grinned at her and returned the embrace, kissing her on the cheek before lifting her up and swinging her round like a child. She gurgled with laughter, but didn’t protest.

‘
You’ve grown a bit too, Kirsty, but maybe not as much as me,’ he said with a smile. ‘I didn’t think you’d still be here, but it’s wonderful to see you.’

She was four years older than him, but even so she’d joined in with games of tag and the like when they’d been younger. The last time he’d seen her she had been sixteen and already becoming a young lady, but when no one else was looking, she’d been quite the hoyden. He put her down and was about to make some teasing remark about that, but before he had time to do so, a hand grabbed his shoulder from behind and spun him around. The next thing he knew, someone punched him on the side of the face and for a moment, he saw stars.

‘
What the …?’ He danced out of the way in case of a second blow and blinked to clear his head. He vaguely heard Kirsty cry out, but his concentration was all on the man who’d hit him.

Shorter than Brice by half a head, he was nevertheless compact and well muscled. With his dark hair and complexion he would have been quite handsome if it hadn’t been for the mammoth scowl that currently marred his features. Brice guessed the light hazel eyes would likewise be attractive if they hadn’t been filled with rage. He didn’t have time to speculate further, however, as the man charged him again. This time Brice was ready.

He reacted instinctively, without wondering why he was being attacked. As boys, he and Jamie often resorted to fisticuffs so he’d learned to defend himself from an early age. It had become a reflex to just fight back and ask questions later. Killian had taught them both a few tricks when their mother wasn’t about – she would have been horrified, but Killian reasoned that it was part of their education. ‘Of course I don’t want you going round picking fights,’ he’d told them, ‘but if it’s unavoidable, I want you to be able to give a good account of yourselves.’ Brice set about doing exactly that now.

Being taller, he had a longer reach, and he was able to land quite a few blows without being hit in return. The dark-haired man, whose name he gathered was Iain since that’s what Kirsty was shouting, didn’t give up easily though. He seemed able to take everything Brice aimed at him, without faltering. Brice didn’t want to prolong this, so went in close and allowed the man to get in a few hard punches, lulling him into false complacency. Then, when Iain let down his guard for a moment, Brice hit him hard, aiming up under the man’s chin.

He saw the surprise in his opponent’s gaze and quickly followed up with a couple of powerful blows to the stomach and torso. Iain stumbled and would probably have fallen if Brice hadn’t reached out to grab one arm. This had gone too far and he was just about to say ‘Enough!’ but before he had a chance, he suddenly found himself drenched to the skin by a deluge of cold liquid that appeared out of nowhere.

Brice whirled around and came face to face with Marsaili Buchanan, the housekeeper. She was glaring at the two men and she was clutching a large pitcher which must have contained ale just a moment earlier. Its contents were running down Brice’s face and clothes and he wiped some out of his eyes, clenching his jaw to contain the fury. The pungent smell of it already clung to him and he felt the stickiness oozing inside his shirt.

‘
What in Hades do you think you’re doing, woman?’ he snapped, breathing hard both from the recent fight and having to control the urge to shout at her for interfering.

‘
Stopping you from hurting Iain.’ She stood her ground, green eyes defiant, although he could see her pulse flickering wildly at the base of her throat. He admired her spirit, but just then he was too angry to appreciate what a magnificent sight she was in full battle mode.

‘
It’s none of your business,’ he said through clenched teeth. He glanced at Iain to make sure the man wasn’t going to attack him from behind, which by the look in his eyes was all too likely. He was about to tell him to back off, but was forestalled by Marsaili.

‘
Iain Seton, have you no sense in that small brain of yours?’ she scolded. ‘Fighting with the new laird on his first day here. Is that any way to behave?’

Brice noticed the resemblance to the older Seton for the first time and wondered why he hadn’t seen it before. Iain was plainly his father’s son, perhaps in more ways than one.

Iain turned his glare on Marsaili. ‘New laird or not, he was kissing Kirsty. I’ll not have anyone poaching on my territory in such a blatant fashion.’

‘
She’s my cousin,’ Brice said, understanding dawning. ‘I was only greeting her.’

‘
Oh, aye, a likely tale,’ Iain scoffed. ‘Besides, she doesn’t have any cousins.’

‘
We’re second cousins really, but kin all the same.’ Brice didn’t see that it made any difference.

Kirsty, who’d been silent up to this point, joined the conversation. ‘If you must know, we haven’t seen each other for ten years. We used to be close so is it to be wondered at if we’re pleased to see one another again?’

‘
Very close, I’m sure,’ Iain muttered.

‘
Oh, for heaven’s sake, there’s no reasoning with you. I’ll not argue with such a pig-headed man. Honestly, I’ve had enough of your jealous tantrums.’ She turned her back on Iain and grabbed Brice’s arm. ‘Come, cousin, we’d better find you some soap and water.’

Brice allowed her to lead him towards the house, but sent a glance over his shoulder at Marsaili and Iain, still standing where they’d left them. He nodded at Marsaili, ‘I want a word with you, madam, as soon as I’m clean again. Await me in the great hall, please.’

‘
Very well,’ she replied, but her expression was still mulish.

Damned meddlesome woman
, he thought. He’d been well on his way to winning his first battle here at Rosyth and if she hadn’t stepped in, he would have shown everyone he wasn’t to be trifled with. He was going to have enough trouble asserting his authority as it was. He didn’t need her to take away a prime opportunity to show them what he was made of.

Well, he’d make sure it never happened again.

Chapter Eight

Marsaili could have kicked herself, but she’d honestly thought the big blond brute
was
going to hurt Iain badly. He was bigger and undoubtedly more powerful and he’d been fighting like he meant it. Throwing the ale had been the only thing that sprang to mind, but she could see now she should have restrained herself. No doubt she’d find herself out of a job and banished from Rosyth thanks to her over-reaction and then where would she go?

But perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered. After the treatment she’d meted out to the new Lord Rosyth on his previous visit, he’d be well within his rights to dismiss her anyway. She gritted her teeth, a surge of irritation shooting through her.
What an underhanded ruse!
To pose as a stranger and trick them all like that. What manner of man did such a thing? It was beyond belief. Although to be fair, none of them had asked him any questions or given him the opportunity to explain why he’d come. They couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

Her stomach muscles clenched. That had been a mistake and now they’d pay for it.

‘
Haughty bastard,’ Iain muttered next to her, rubbing his ribs which were no doubt smarting from some of the punches he’d received. Marsaili had little sympathy for him, however.

‘
You have only yourself to blame,’ she told him roundly when he stared at her in hangdog fashion. ‘If you can’t get it into your head that Kirsty only has eyes for you, you’re a bigger fool than I took you for. There’s no need for these theatrics every time someone so much as looks at her.’

She left him to mull this over and headed back into the house. Somehow she had to make amends to Lord Rosyth, even if it went against the grain. She simply couldn’t imagine living anywhere else and she had no wish to try and find herself another position. This was where she belonged.

When Brice strode into the great hall a short time later, she was already there waiting for him. On a table by one of the armchairs she’d placed a tray with fresh ale, newly baked oatcakes and some cheese and butter. She gripped her hands together hard as he walked towards her and tried to read his expression. He was still frowning, and his blue eyes were dark and stormy. Her heart sank.

He was mad as a hornet.

‘
Sit down, please,’ he said, surprising her. He seated himself in the chair next to the tray and indicated she should take the other one.

‘
But – I’m the housekeeper, your servant,’ Marsaili protested, flustered by his command.

‘
That remains to be seen,’ he murmured, making her draw in a sharp breath.

‘
Really, my lord, I apologise if I acted hastily, but you’re so much bigger than Iain and I thought for sure you’d –’

He held up a hand to stop the flow of words and pointed at the chair. ‘Please. Sit down and let me do the talking for a moment, Mrs Buchanan.’

She perched on the edge of the chair, uncomfortable with this strange request. It seemed too personal somehow, sitting next to him as if they were acquaintances instead of employer and employee. In fact, his mere presence made her unaccountably flustered again. ‘It’s
Miss
Buchanan. I’m not married,’ she blurted out, then added the word ‘yet’, although she didn’t know why since she had no intention of letting anyone lead her to the altar. On reflection, it might have been better to allow him to think her a widow, she thought, but it was too late now. She was very conscious of the fact that Seton wasn’t the only one who considered her too young to hold a position of such responsibility. Then again, the new laird would find out her marital status soon enough.