He flipped another wood shaving airborne and Kara considered picking it up. He was making a mess on the floor. Who did he think would clean up the shavings? "Talk to Kara. Whatever she wants." Harry jumped up and more shavings fell from his lap to the floor. He made no attempt to clean up after himself and Kara found herself annoyed. But she held her tongue. After all, it was his floor to leave untidy and his servants to bid clean it up.
"Let's go. The sooner we can get this over, the sooner I can go riding."
Ian stepped aside to allow Kara to pass. As she did, he whispered in her ear, "His is not exactly the attitude I would want the man who stood in judgment of me to possess."
She frowned in agreement. Ian was right; Harry was acting childish in a position where he had great authority, and one he had to take seriously. "Can you listen in and advise him?"
"Aye." Ian lifted his chin. "But I see my cousin has already settled in to advise."
Kara glanced up through her lashes to see Dungald seated at the table where Harry dined. Most of the chairs had been drawn away and tables had been moved to the outside walls to make way for the men who approached his lordship. Dungald was seated to the right of Harry's chair.
"Sit on the other side of Harry," Ian instructed quietly.
Kara shook her head. "Nae. It was not my intention to sit court with him. 'Tis not a woman's place—"
"'Tis the mistress of Dunnane's place to see her people fairly judged and protected by his lordship's power."
"What good is it for me to hear the cases?" she whispered. "Harry will no more listen to me than—"
"Presently, you are one of the few he will listen to." Ian moved from behind her to beside her. "Please, Kara, just this once. Perhaps a few more times until he feels more comfortable. This is a great responsibility for such a young man."
Kara found herself watching Ian's lips rather than hearing his plea. She thought of the goblet they had shared that night a week past. She knew it wasn't rational, but how could she argue with that sensual mouth? "All right, but just this once." She raised a finger.
He flashed her a smile that was worth the concession and she glanced away, embarrassed by her pleasure at his attention. She didn't know what had come over her since she arrived at Dunnane. Where had these lustful thoughts come from? She needed to go to the chapel and pray for her soul.
Harry, as always, was oblivious.
"My lord." Dungald half rose from his chair.
"Cousin." Harry nodded, taking his position at the head table. He looked over his shoulder at Kara. "You're staying. Good." He lowered his voice, covering the side of his mouth with his palm. "You can tell me what to say."
"I'm just here to support you," she whispered back, sitting beside him as Ian had instructed. "To see what challenges your lordship faces each day."
"I believe the Earl of Dunnane is ready to commence," Dungald said with authority he didn't possess. "Munroe, bring the first case before us."
Ian and Kara exchanged glances over Harry's head. Neither wanted to see Dungald at Harry's side, but they didn't have the sanction to dismiss him.
Ian called names. "Robert Burr and George Campbell."
A bearded man in his mid-twenties stepped from the crowd and hurried forward. He was followed by a man slightly older... leading a sheep.
Harry sniggered at the sight of the sheep in his hall, but had the good sense to cover his mouth.
"My lord."
"My lord."
Both men bowed nervously.
"State your business," Dungald declared, leaning back in his chair and pouring himself a cup of ale.
The two men looked at each other. The younger spoke first. "See, my ram, he wandered off, cut through a fence and got with Georgie's best ewe. When she got pregnant"—the man cut his eyes toward Kara—"excuse me, my lady." He returned his attention to the young lord. "See, when she got pregnant, we agreed we'd just share the lambs."
"But then Maddie had only one lamb," Georgie offered.
"Now's my ewe's croaked, so I think this one be mine."
"I dinna think that was fair," the older man said. "But she be half mine."
"So now what's to be done, my lord?"
Harry rose up in his chair and peered over the table at the sheep.
Kara watched his expression. She could tell he was thinking. She could also see that he wasn't certain what to say.
Dungald shrugged, sipping from his goblet. "Cut it in half. Butcher it and be done."
Harry's face lit up. Kara looked at her husband. He looked at her. She knew he was relieved to be offered a solution, any solution. She also knew he wanted to just repeat what Dungald had said and make it so. Perhaps not because he thought it was the right decision, but because he wanted some sort of decision. He didn't want to look foolish.
Harry cracked his knuckles. "What would you do, wife?" He lifted one shoulder casually. "I am merely curious."
Kara thought before she spoke. "Of course, I am only a woman, my lord, but..."
"Speak on," Harry urged, leaning forward in his chair.
She flashed him a shy smile. "Your cousin's solution would indeed work, but..."
"But?" Harry leaned toward her. "Aye, but what?"
Kara made eye contact with one crofter and then the other. They were obviously poor. A sheep might seem meager to Harry or Dungald, but one sheep could make a great difference in the lives of these men.
"I think," she said slowly, "were it my decision, I would see this sheep bred once it's of age. Then the lambs could be shared."
Harry's face lit up. "Then they would both get more sheep!"
Kara lowered her gaze, not daring to meet Dungald's, though she knew he was staring at her.
Ian moved behind her to rest one hand on the back of her chair and one on Harry's. His presence could not be ignored. She knew he had not missed a word of the exchange.
"Aye. Very clever, wife. I see you and I think much alike." He returned his attention to the crofters. "I have made my decision. You, sir, shall keep the sheep." He pointed at the man with the sheep on the rope. "You, sir, shall breed your ram to this sheep. When lambs are born you may share them. Keep a tally. This sheep is jointly owned by both of you until... till death do you part."
Kara smiled behind her hand. It was an interesting notion to use wedding vows to settle a quarrel over a sheep, but it seemed to work.
The crofters exchanged glances and nodded.
"Excellent." Harry clapped his hands together. "Next!"Kara feared Dungald would criticize Harry's decision, and public criticism was the last thing he needed right now. She was thankful Dungald said nothing, only downed his ale.
Kara let out a sigh of relief.
Ian leaned over. "Good job," he said softly, then aloud called for the next petitioner. "Next, Isla Beattie. Bring her forward."
One of Harry's men stepped from the milling crowd, leading a young woman bound at the wrists. She was no more than sixteen years old. She was filthy, with snarled blond hair and ragged clothes. She also appeared to be well with child.
The clansman tugged on the rope that bound the girl and she jerked back on it, sending him a threatening glare.
"Step forward before his lordship," Ian announced in a clear, loud voice.
The woman walked to the head table, holding her head up proudly.
Harry shrank back in his chair and wrinkled his nose. She smelled.
"This woman was caught stealing from your own kitchen, my lord," Ian said. "She took bread, milk and apples. It's believed she has stolen before. It's taken until now to catch her."
Harry looked at her, seemingly a little intimidated by her stare. "Did... did ye steal from Dunnane?"
"Aye."
Harry looked startled. Kara supposed he had expected her to deny the charge.
Kara's gaze met the young woman's. She stared back in defiance. Kara's hackles immediately went up. What right did this woman have to steal from Harry? Thieves had to be punished, not only to prevent their cont
inued thievery, but also to serve as a warning to others.
But there was something in the woman's defiant blue eyes that made Kara want to ask her why she had stolen. Where was her husband? Her father? Her family? Something told her this ragged girl had a story to tell.
"Simple enough," Dungald declared loudly with a flip of his wrist. "The punishment is routine. Cut off her hand and she'll not thieve again." He looked to Ian. "I'm in need of more ale. Fetch someone to bring it, will you, Munroe?"
Harry opened his mouth to speak. Kara feared he was going to repeat what Dungald had just said. "Harry," she whispered.
He did not seem to hear her, and panic rose in her chest. She couldn't let him cut off the girl's hand! At least not without further inquiry. But what could she do? How could she stop him without making him lose face in front of the others in the room who watched him so closely?
Kara reached under the table and laid her hand possessively on Harry's knee.
Chapter 5
Harry's eyes widened and he let out such a gasp that Ian, Dungald and Isla all stared at him.
Harry gulped, his eyes still round as plates.
"Harry," Kara repeated softly.
This time he turned to look at her. He swallowed yet again, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Perhaps in her haste she had placed her hand a little higher than his knee... a little too high. But what did it matter? She had what she wanted—his attention.
"Aye, Kara?" Harry's voice came out breathy.
She lowered her head to whisper. He lowered his to hear every word.
"I do not believe it is wise for a man to always bring down his fist harshly," she said, choosing her words carefully. She in no way wanted to diminish his authority or give him or anyone else the impression that she had. But she could not allow these men to cut off this young girl's hand without a fair chance to explain herself.
He nodded, his attention completely hers.
"Sometimes it is mercy that shows a man's true strength," she continued. "You do not know why she took from your kitchen. Was it to sell your food or was it to nourish the child she carries? Why is this woman homeless and so big with child? Where is her husband? Has she been abandoned? Is she a victim of rape?"
Harry licked his lips. His face was taut with concentration. "You would not cut off the thief's hand?" he whispered.
"I would be certain it was the right thing to do."
He lifted his head, seeming hesitant to suspend their private conversation. "Woman." He used his best earl's tone of voice. "Tell me why you took from my kitchen what was not yours."
The girl stared hard at him. "It matters not, my lord, do it? Your punishment will be the same."
Dungald gave a snort of derision.
Harry glanced at Kara as if to say Now what? Now both women had him flustered.
Kara had to think fast. Why had the girl answered that way? Didn't she want to hold her child with two hands? Didn't she realize the chances she would take by having a limb removed? Fever, gangrene, even death?
"She is probably overwrought, my husband. Afraid. We have all said the wrong thing when we have been confused and afraid."
"I'm confused a lot," Harry confessed under his breath.
Kara couldn't resist a little smile. Ian was right: beneath the surface of this gangly boy was a good man. He only needed time to emerge.
Harry lowered his head to draw Kara further into his confidence. "What now?"
"Ask her if she has a man to speak for her, a husband or a father."
Harry sat upright again. "Have you a husband who can speak for ye?"
The woman with the wild hair gave a laugh. "Husband? Nae. Nor father, nor brother, nor anyone who knew me as a child."
"And you will not tell Dunnane why ye stole from his coffers?" Harry demanded.
Isla's hard gaze met his and yielded. Beneath her mask of haughtiness was stark fear. "I had not eaten a meal in a great time, my lord. Not since my stepfather put me out a moon ago, big with the babe he forced into me."
There was a collective gasp from the crowd of men and women who waited to make their pleas to Lord Dunnane.
Again Harry looked to Kara for advice.
She was so appalled that she didn't know what to say.
Ian moved behind her, leaning on her and Harry's chairs. He lowered his head between them. Anyone who observed them would think he spoke to his lordship, but Kara knew his thoughts were as much for her as for Harry.
"Extenuating circumstances, my lord. You were smart to question the lass."
"What now?" Harry whispered.
"Great galloping God!" Dungald protested, striking the table with his empty goblet. "Cut the bitch's hand off and be done with it." He pressed his hands close to Harry's, demanding his lordship's attention. "Do ye want everyone to think you weak, cousin?" he hissed beneath his breath. "You set the wench free without punishment and the word will be out in days. Crofters from all of Scotland will be stealing from your larders." He spit ale with his last venomous declaration.
Harry looked to Ian. "Will they think me weak?"
Ian eyed Dungald dangerously, warning him to back off. Dungald took the warning and rocked back in his chair.
"The countess is wise, my lord," Ian said, still keeping an eye on the unruly Dungald. "I believe a man must rule with strength, intelligence and compassion. Worthy men respect compassion. It is an honorable trait seen rarely in politics these days."
Kara wanted to look up at Ian, to thank him, but for some reason she felt she didn't dare. She didn't want him to see the respect for him she knew shone in her eyes. Respect and something else she didn't quite comprehend yet.
"Cut off her hand," Dungald repeated. Jumping up, he yanked his own dirk from his belt, his hand trembling slightly. "Hell's witness! I'll do it myself, if it pleases your lordship!"
Again those in the hall gasped.
Isla recoiled instinctively, but then held her head high. No tears welled in her eyes.
Kara brushed her hand against Harry's arm, not daring to touch him beneath the table again for fear of giving him heart failure. It had never occurred to her to touch him in a sexual way. He was just a boy, but after this she knew she would have to be more careful.
"Ye said earlier I should have a maid," she said quickly. It was a lie—Ian had said it—but she hoped Harry would remember it as his own idea.
He listened.
"Let me take the girl and clean her up and feed her. She can serve me, my lord."
Harry thought. "But she is a thief. She—"
"I will take full responsibility." Kara clung to his arm. This woman was no one to her, and yet she could not see her punished. Perhaps in some small way she saw herself in Isla's eyes. "Please, my lord, please, Harry."
Harry gazed into her eyes with adoration that both surprised and frightened Kara.
"Anything for you," he whispered.
She drew back, not sure what to make of his words, yet afraid that she did understand. The boy was becoming smitten with her. But she had what she wanted. That was what was important right now; the girl's hand would be spared.
"I have made my decision," Harry declared loudly. "Release the prisoner to my wife so that she may serve my household and thus repay what she has stolen."
A murmur rippled through the great hall. Sunburned faces turned to their master in wonder.
Harry's man removed the rope from the girl's grimy wrists, and she rubbed the skin made raw by the bindings.
"Would you lead her to my chamber?" Kara asked one of the clansmen quietly. "Have a tray of food sent to her and a bath drawn. Wait for me there," she told Isla. "I'll be up directly."
Isla stared with astonishment at Kara for a long moment, then dipped a low curtsy, bowing her head in reverence. "Thank you, my lady," she said humbly, her tone passionate. "My lord. I will not forget your mercy, not for all my born days."
"Weak," Dungald muttered beneath his breath as the thief was led away. "Weak mama's
-tit boy—"
"Sir," Ian addressed Dungald. "Have you something to say?"
Dungald rose, lifting his upper lip in a sneer. "Nae, I've nothing to say. If you'll excuse me, I've... other duties to attend."
Harry gave a nod, dismissing his cousin. Either he did not recognize his cousin's sarcasm, or he didn't care. He poured himself a cup of ale and reached for a sweet biscuit Kara had ordered for him from the kitchen. "Next case, step forward."
Hours later, when Harry had completed his morning's work, Kara excused herself from the great hall to return to her chamber to see to the pregnant girl.
She met Ian on the tower stairwell. He had to have been waiting for her. He blocked her passage, one sinewy hand gripping the rope that wound up the steep staircase. He was so big in the small, cylindrical stairwell that he seemed to fill the space.
A part of Kara wanted to dart beneath his arm and race up the stairs, but a part of her wanted to stay there with him in the shadows. Be with him, hear his voice. Was it her imagination or was there a bond forming between them, a bond greater than the one between her and Harry?
"God's teeth!" Ian exclaimed. "What did you do to that poor lad? Two hours later and he's still walking bow-legged."
Kara was embarrassed by his insinuation, but she couldn't resist a grin and a chuckle. "I meant only to gain his attention, not—"
"Stimulate him?" Ian teased.
Kara covered her mouth to muffle another giggle. She knew she should have been mortified. Such a conversation with her brother-in-law was entirely inappropriate. Yet with whom else could she talk about the incident? Who else could see the humor but his elder brother?
She lifted her palms to him innocently. "I assure you, I had no such intentions. I wanted only for him to hear me out."
His laughing eyes met hers. "You know my little brother has been infatuated with you since your wedding night, but now there shall be no living with him for you or me."
"For you?"
He gripped the stairwell rope. "When we are alone he cannot concentrate on his duties for declaring your attributes."
Kara ran her hand over her face, still amused. He was a child, for heaven's sake! "He does appear to be growing enamored, doesn't he? So what am I to do?"
Highland Bride Page 5
