“Of course,” her father nodded. “Please stay within sight of the house.”
She stepped outside and the salty air hit her nostrils once again. The house sat perched at the mouth of a river that led to the sea. Lord Alban had been blessed in more ways than one, she noted. Rich, fertile land, good for farming and yielding coal. The sea provided ample food. No wonder the Albans were so successful.
She followed a path to the water and, at the edge of the cliff, looked down at the view of the water. It was breathtaking. But a movement to her left caught her attention. The land continued to rise and on top of a crest stood a Kirkyard. Even from this distance, the outline of Lord Alban standing by a large stone was impossible to ignore. He looked like a stone himself, rising out of the earth.
Without meaning to, she began walking toward him.
As she grew closer, she could see his head bowed, his hands clasped in front of him. She had a sudden pang of regret about the way she’d judged his behavior today. He’d buried his parents today. That entitled anyone to be brusque.
Not that it changed the rumors swirling about him. But all the same, today, at least, he deserved some measure of sympathy.
As she drew closer, he didn’t raise his head but his voice called sharply. “What do ye want?”
She drew in a long breath. Had she just been feeling sympathy for this man? “I came to offer my condolences.”
He looked up to her then, his gaze penetrating into hers until she did, in fact, cease moving toward him. His eyes no less potent out in the sun. His voice rumbled through her. “Thank ye. If ye don’t mind, I’d prefer to be alone.”
She gave a curt shake of her head and turned to go. But then, she moved back to face him. “I’ll only keep ye a moment. But the day I buried my mother, I didn’t speak for the entire day, I can’t quite recollect, but I don’t think I spoke for several after.” She cleared her throat, these next words a little difficult. “I admire your strength.”
Surprise lit his face, making it less heavy, handsome even. “Thank ye.”
With a parting nod, she returned the way she had come. She attempted to forget how much those eyes affected her. The man was not to be trusted.
Stone watched Miss McLaren walk away, his teeth clenching together. Mostly because he didn’t want to like that woman. He’d seen the way she’d looked at him. Those looks had haunted his nightmares as a child and, now that he was a man, he wouldn’t be prisoner to them any longer. Stone froze out anyone who treated him with disdain.
He’d do well to remember the judgment he’d seen in her eyes when they’d first met his. She was beautiful, it couldn’t be denied, and her attempt at kindness might lull him into letting his guard down.
He looked back at the stone marking his parent’s resting place. How could this have happened? Technically speaking, he knew what had happened. The collapse had begun in one of the mines. Men were trapped and his father had rushed to the mines to help clear the opening. His mother had been awaiting his father when a second collapse had begun. She’d rushed in to save him or warn him. He bowed his head as pain radiated through him. They’d never know.
Stone swallowed down the lump rising in his throat. He was the keeper of the land, the one everyone was depending on. He wouldn’t cry now or ever.
Turning away, he began back down the hill. Losing both his parents meant that he had no one to guide him now. Standing here wallowing in his grief wouldn’t help. It was best that he begin work.
He spent most of the afternoon with Allister, going through books and reviewing projects his father had commissioned. Stone’s head ached by the time dinner approached. He only now realized that he hadn’t eaten any of the buffet that had been laid out.
Placing his head in his hands he took a deep breath.
Allister cleared his throat. “Forgive me, my lord but—”
“Just Stone, Allister,” he said without looking up.
“Stone,” Allister continued. “The funeral for the lost miners is tomorrow. Are ye going to attend?”
“Of course,” he answered. “Their loss is my loss.” He shook his head, thinking of all the women who had lost their husbands. Twenty widows. He scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Tomorrow, he’d count the children. “Have we started the school in that province?”
“Yes,” Allister searched through the pile. “And a teacher has already been hired.”
“Good.” Stone ran his hand through his hair again. It was overlong, but he’d worry about it later. “I’d also like to give each of the widows a sum for their loss. Help them find their way.”
“That is not required,” Allister gave him a questioning look.
He nodded. “I ken, but it’s the right thing tae do. Those men gave their lives to us. If I’m reading these books correctly, the mines make us more than farming, milling, or fishing combined.”
“It’s true.” Allister paused, clearing his throat. “And I think it’s noble. But I am worried, especially with you being the new lord, that other people will attempt to take advantage. Widows and women claiming to be widows will arrive at your door in droves, looking for a gift.”
Stone sighed. The farmers had already tried that trick. “I’ll deal with the consequences when they come. I won’t let people’s bad behavior keep me from doing what is right.”
Allister sat back in his chair, giving him a smile. “That is what will make ye as good a lord as yer father.”
Stone shrugged, staring at the papers in front of him. “I dunnae ken about that. I dunnae ken about any of this.” There was so much he needed to learn, to understand to do right by these people. His father hadn’t taught him nearly enough. Not that his father was to blame. The elder Lord Alban had been the picture of health. They had both assumed Stone, at five and twenty, had years to learn all he needed.
When Allister didn’t respond, Stone looked up at the man. Allister’s gaze cast to the ceiling. “I could stay for a time if ye’d like. Help ye with the transition.”
“I couldnae ask that of ye,” Stone replied but he had to admit it was a welcome thought. Someone who was intimately acquainted with the assets and earnings of his father’s, well of his, holdings would be a great asset.
“I’m offering, ye’re not asking.” Allister replied reaching across the desk and giving Stone’s arm a pat. “Besides, my house is too empty without Fiona. I do not relish going back.”
That was something that Stone could understand. “If yer sure I wouldnae be putting ye out then I would love to have ye stay. If, however at any point ye want to go, ye can.”
Allister shook his head. “It’s unlikely. Perhaps I’ll sell the house so that I might purchase a residence—”
“Dunnae do that.” Stone replied. “I’ve a beautiful cottage by the water, right here on the property. Ye could stay in yer own quarters. Or, if ye prefer, I have several properties in the village.” He understood Allister’s feelings having just suffered his own loss. But once Allister sold the house, it would be difficult to undo. This didn’t seem the time to make rash decisions. Advice he would note for himself. “Give it time before you let go of the house. Ye dunnae want to do something ye’ll regret.”
“Thank you, Stone,” Allister said. “Now I will have to face Eliza with the news that we are staying.”
Stone mentally cringed. Of course Allister staying meant Eliza would stay. While that fact shouldn’t bother him, it did. “She won’t be happy?”
Allister gave a shake of his head. “Strong-willed and high-minded like her mother.” A sadness pulled at the corners of Allister’s mouth. “I miss her.”
“I ken.” Stone did. And he had no idea how to ease this ache.
Chapter Three
Eliza sat in the breakfast room, as was her usual custom, early the next morning. At least she thought it was the breakfast room. No one was there, no food was about, and no servants had entered. Looking around, she could only surmise she’d made a mistake. Though the large table h
ad beckoned her in, there must be another breakfast room somewhere else in the massive house.
She sighed. She wanted to go back home and continue grieving her own mother. Not stay here and watch the Sinclairs experience their own loss. Not that her father cared what she wanted. He was a good man, but he rarely listened to her opinions on a subject. This trip for example. She’d wanted to stay home.
Standing, she decided to explore further when a shadow filled the doorway. The room had been so quiet, she was almost surprised to see someone and she jumped, her heart dropping to her knees. It wasn’t until she’d taken a few breaths that she realized it was Lord Alban.
“Good morning.”
His deep gravelly voice reverberated through her. The man was a force, she had to admit that. “Good morning,” she replied.
He cast his gaze about the room, as though he rarely spent time there and he was assessing its merits. “I can have breakfast sent to up here for you if you would prefer, but it’s actually my family’s custom to eat in the kitchen.”
She blinked several times. “The kitchen?” She wasn’t attempting to judge, she’d just never heard of such a thing.
His brow furrowed and his look grew menacing. He straightened his back and his chest pushed out. He was already an intimidating man. Like this, he looked near ferocious. “That is what I said.”
She titled her head to the side, studying him. She imagined many were afraid of him. Was she? The answer was decidedly no. She didn’t understand why not, by all accounts she should be. Most people were. He made her feel something that unsettled her but it wasn’t fear. “I did not mean to offend. It is just unusual for a family of your status.”
She saw him take a breath and his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Delia enjoys helping out in the kitchen. My parents indulged the practice as I intend to.”
Delia. Perhaps that was why he didn’t frighten her. She saw how loving Stone was with his sister. “That is wonderful.” She gave him a genuine smile. “But I wouldn’t want to interrupt that. Especially not today.”
Surprise made his eyes widen. “Thank ye for yer understanding.”
The smile slipped from her face. She understood loss all too well. “Of course.”
He cleared his throat. “I am sorry fer yer loss as well.”
“That is much appreciated,” she said but she couldn’t look at him when she did. The bitter ache that was always near the surface stabbed at her again.
“I will have breakfast sent up for you,” he answered and then he was gone.
She took a steadying breath as she looked toward the door again. She’d been wrong. Stone did frighten her. Not because of his menacing looks or his hulking size but because of what he represented. Power. Influence. So often men in his position did terrible things with that sort of authority—selfish or even terrible acts. Judging by what the surrounding villagers had said about Stone, he was that sort of man. With a sigh, she returned to her seat. He was the same sort of man who had sent her mother to the grave.
Her father entered the breakfast room. “Good morning.”
Her fist clenched under the table as she turned to greet him. “Papa.”
He stopped, his gaze searching hers. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she answered too quickly. He always knew when she was upset. It was an irritating quality when she wanted to keep her thoughts private.
She heard him let out a slow breath. “Out with it.” Then he took a seat across from her.
“There is nothing to get out.” She glared across the table. “But we are in the devil’s house and I will be glad to return to our home.”
His voice was sharp. “Eliza McLaren, I told ye, ye are not to say that ever.”
There was something in his voice that made her sit straighter. He was forever telling her not to say things, that didn’t bother her. But the edge to his voice spoke of something else. “What is it?”
“He isn’t the devil. Ye’ve allowed yer imagination to run away with ye.” Then he stopped, his eyes growing wary. “We’re not going home.”
“What dae ye mean we’re not going home?” Eliza leaned forward, not wanting to miss a gesture. “Not tomorrow or the next day? Not next week or not next month?”
“We’re staying as long as it take to sort out Lord Alban’s affairs.” Her father gave her a hard glare. “Perhaps longer.”
“Stop.” She cut off his words as she stood. “We can’t stay here. We need to go back to the house. To our life. To her.”
“She isn’t there, Eliza. What life is there without her? I am haunted by her memories. Don’t you think it would be better if we spent some time away?”
“No, I don’t.” She didn’t want to talk anymore and so, pushing her chair back, she made to leave but her father stopped her.
“Eliza,” He bit out. “I need you to know that Stone is a man of integrity. Please consider that the next time you are with him.”
“Why? Why do ye care if I like or dislike him?” A knot of fear twisted in her stomach. Something else was happening.
He stared at her for several seconds. “I’m going to propose a match between ye.and Stone.”
“What?” she gasped. Had her father not heard her that she didn’t like him? By all accounts he was everything she detested from the upper class.
“Don’t test me on this one, Eliza. It’s important fer yer future.” He straightened, crossing his arms.
The second he let go, she made a break for the door. She’d not, under any circumstances, be the wife of the devil.
Stone sat at the near-silent table and assessed the sad faces of his siblings.
He had to admit, that Eliza had shown a great deal of tact in leaving his family to have this breakfast in peace. He appreciated her considerate gesture, which helped dispel the sting of her ongoing disapproving glares. Why he cared, he couldn’t say. He’d long been ignoring such glances. But unlike so many others, he was attracted to her. It had been so long, he had nearly forgotten what it was like. And she understood, on some level, what he was going through. Her pain echoed his own.
“Stone,” Blair called down the table. At two and twenty, he was a man to be reckoned with. Though less muscled and more handsome, like all Allister men, Blair had a hardness that many found frightening. Their dark skin and hair likely didn’t help.
He looked at Blair. His eyebrows were pulled down tight to his eyes giving him a menacing look, which was so like Stone’s. No wonder people feared him. “Yes?”
“It feels wrong to just be sitting here eating. We should be…” Blair stopped.
Everyone else stopped too. They hadn’t been talking but the sound of their silverware clanking ceased all at once. “I know how you feel.” Stone swallowed hard. “But there isn’t much to be done besides continue.”
William slapped the table. “Let’s go out to the grave. Have our own ceremony. The one yesterday was a farce.”
Stone agreed. They needed time as a family to mourn without being a public spectacle. “I’ll get the bell. Delia, do you think you can ring it?”
His little sister gave a soft clap. “Oh yes, I’d like that.”
Feeling some purpose, they rose from the table. As they made their way up the path, Stone had the sense that this was right. This was what they should be doing. He held Delia’s hand as they walked, his siblings silent behind him. It was such a marked change from the usual clatter that surrounded this clan that it punctuated the gesture they were making.
Gathering around the large rock that marked his parent’s resting place, they made a semi-circle. Stone felt the grief well in his chest as hot pokers jabbed at his eyes, though he wouldn’t let them out. He watched some of his brother’s swipe at tears.
Though each was silent, Stone knew they were saying goodbye, just as he was. In his heart, he shared his hopes for the future and his regrets from the past. When his siblings began shifting, signaling they were finishing with their private goodbyes, he placed his hand on t
he stone. “I want to make a promise to all of ye. I’ll do my best to be head of this family. To care fer ye and provide fer yer futures.” He took a deep breath. “In fact, I swear on our parents’ stone that I will always put ye first. My blood is yer blood. I’ll bleed fer ye if I have tae.”
Delia put her small hand next to his. “I swear it too.” Her little voice carried in the wind. “I’ll love ye no matter what. We’re a family.”
Each of his brothers placed their hands by his and Delia’s so that six hands lined the top of the stone. He wished they could leave an indentation of each of their hands in remembrance of this oath.
“We’ll protect one another,” Will said.
Matt added, “Never let anyone get between us.”
“Forgive each other,” Blair added.
For the first time since he’d learned his parents were lost, hope filled Stone’s chest. He and his siblings could survive this. Together.
Picking up Delia, he started back down the path that led to the house. It was then that he noticed Allister making his way toward them.
“Stone,” Allister called. The man’s shoulders were hunched, his face creased with worry.
“What’s wrong?” Stone moved faster, still holding Delia.
“It’s Eliza. She was angry and she stormed off. I went after her but she was so quick. I can’t find her and I’m worried. She doesn’t know this land. Not really. What if she gets hurt?”
“Do you know which way she went?” Stone asked.
“I think toward the cottage, but I can’t be certain.” Allister scrubbed his hands over his face.
Stone looked at his brothers. Roderick and Matt were only fourteen. “The twins will go with Blair and check along the upper cliffs. Will and I will head toward the cottage.” He set his sister down. “Delia, you help Allister check the village.”
Scottish Devil (Brethren of Stone Book 1) Page 2
