Regency Proposal: The Laird's Forbidden Lady / Haunted by the Earl's Touch

‘Aye. She sent them off with a flea in their ear.’

‘I thought she was going to let you in.’

‘Aye.’

‘Then she realised I was with you.’ The rejection stung.

‘I told her you were my cousin, but, given what the soldiers told her, she refused to believe it.’

‘And because I am an Albright she doesn’t feel the need to offer hospitality.’

‘Her son was transported for poaching on your father’s land.’

‘Oh, dear.’

‘Her son was one of the lucky ones. Tearny shoots first usually.’

Tearny was the land agent. ‘Not on my father’s orders, I can assure you.’

He shrugged. ‘Be that as it may, we have no choice but to go on.’

She glared at him. ‘If Mr Tearny is shooting people on Albright land, he will be punished.’

He cocked his head on one side. ‘All right. You will speak to your father. Let us leave it at that. We will walk many a mile before we find another house where we can request food.’

‘And no doubt they will turn us away, too.’

‘Not everyone is as bitter as Grannie.’

Hopefully not, or it would be a long hungry walk to the mail coach.

He looked off into the distance. ‘I think I will speak to Niall before we go too much farther. Find out what the soldiers are doing. I may have to go to Dunross myself.’

A feeling of panic ran down her spine. ‘You can’t leave me out here.’

‘Laird.’ The high-pitched voice came from behind them. ‘Laird.’

Ian glanced back.

Selina turned right around. It was the girl who’d been at the old lady’s door, hurrying after them, her basket held out to the side as if she feared whatever was in it would break.

‘Wait,’ Selina said to Ian, who seemed inclined to keep walking. ‘Don’t make her run.’

The girl arrived, bright-eyed and panting. Russet curls escaped from beneath the ragged shawl she had pulled over her head and her dark green eyes darted over Ian and Selina in several wide-eyed passes. Her cheeks flushed scarlet.

‘Well,’ Ian said when she didn’t speak, ‘what do you want, Marie Flora McKinly?’

‘Ian, you will scare her. Give her a chance to catch her breath.’

Still the girl didn’t speak. She curled her toes around a stem of heather, watching her foot, peeping up at Ian as if he was some sort of ogre.

Ian said something in Gaelic in a gentler tone.

The child took a deep breath and gabbled away for a minute or two.

He shook his head at the child and again spoke in Gaelic.

The child’s chin went up. Her eyes flashed.

‘What have you said?’ Selina said. ‘Why is she angry?’

Ian muttered a curse. ‘She’s offering us food at her father’s house a couple of miles from here. I don’t want to put them in danger.’

‘There’s only Da, miss,’ the child said in a lovely Scottish brogue. ‘And me and my two brothers. My Da would never forgive me if you didna’ take a dram with him, Laird. He’s been dying for some company and news for weeks. We’ve food in the larder.’

Selina looked at Ian. The child looked at Ian. The frustration on his face was evident. Not only did his people have a duty to him, not to accept an offer of hospitality would be an insult.

‘Very well. We’ll visit with your Da for an hour or two and then be on our way.’

Marie Flora gave a pleased little hop and a skip. ‘This way.’

She started up a hill that seemed steeper than all of the others they’d come across. Instead of heading south, she was going west.

Selina took one look at the miniature mountain and groaned.

‘Do you think you can make it?’ Ian murmured and took her arm to help her. ‘It might be better if we didn’t use your last name with these folks.’

‘Doesn’t she know it?’ She indicated the child.

‘Grannie McLeod guessed immediately, but didn’t speak your name. And nor did I.’

‘McLeod. I remember her, now. She used to live in the village.’

‘Aye, until a year ago when she didna’ pay her rent and was evicted. That was her son’s place. When her son was shipped off, she cursed the Albright name all seven ways to Inverness.’

She flinched. ‘I’m not surprised she was angry.’

‘She’s an evil auld woman. She cursed the factor, too,’ Ian said. ‘He came down with an enormous boil on the end of his nose the day after he barred her door.’

He was teasing her. Had to be. ‘Served him right.’

‘‘Tis no laughing matter. She cursed auld Willie McLaughlin and he died within the week.’

A year ago was when she had had her accident. The thought of the old crone’s curse being responsible sent prickles racing across her shoulders. ‘Superstitious nonsense.’ Yet she shivered.

‘Believe what you will, my lady.’

She huffed out a breath. Now he’d gone all stiff and starchy again. She glanced up ahead and saw they’d reached the top of the rise. Her aching calves and thighs were looking forward to a downhill incline.