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Aidan had no taste for blithe chatter and ignored the attempt. Instead, he slid his hand into the basket hilt, tilting the broadsword to catch the light of the window.
“Father’s blade. Why are you bringing this to me? I was never the man’s favorite. ”
“No, you weren’t his chosen son, were you?” Gregor’s lip curled into a sardonic smile. He strolled into the room, eyeing what few objects Aidan claimed as his own. “That was me, and more’s the pity. ”
“You’d have me pity you?” Aidan tried to view the room through Gregor’s eyes. Candle, table, knife, washbowl, and the plaid Anya had given him that he’d yet to wear. He must seem quite the piteous creature to one like his dashing elder brother. “How do you figure?”
Gregor leaned back against the stone wall, arms crossed over his chest. “While you had playmates and outings, I was being trained to follow in our father’s illustrious military footsteps. ”
“Are you completely lacking in sense?” Anger was a continual roil in Aidan’s belly, and it erupted now, the bilious taste familiar and—God spare him—reassuring. “You’ll recall it was on just such an outing when I was stolen from the lot of you. ”
“Aye. But you’re home now, and like it or not, we want you here. ” Gregor considered him for a moment. “I find I trust you, despite myself. ”
It was Aidan’s turn to laugh. He was certain the thought had crossed Gregor’s mind that he was secretly a hardened pirate come to loot the family and be off again. “Why should I care whether you trust me or not?”
Gregor seemed amused. “Try to have faith in us, because I’m trying to have faith in you. ”
Assuming his place in the purportedly loving arms of his family was a more awkward mantle to bear than he ever would’ve imagined. “Why bother?”
“Because, prodigal brother, if I didn’t, Cormac would beat, Anya harry, Declan battle, and Bridget badger me until I did. ” Gregor wandered back to the door, an easy smile softening his words. “Now put on that plaid”—he gestured to the pile of wool dropped haphazardly in the corner—“and act the MacAlpin. ”
Aidan stared at that stretch of tartan long after Gregor had gone. He’d not worn a plaid since he was taken—they didn’t wear such things in the Indies, of course. And since his return, that simple, foreign scrap of cloth had struck him as so rife with meaning and import, he hadn’t the heart.
He donned it, finally, and was reluctant to admit just how moving it was to wear a Scotsman’s breacan feile again.
It took Aidan an hour to walk to the Farquharson farm. He would’ve loved to ride Gregor’s chestnut gelding, but something about his older brother’s manner spoke to a lingering distrust, despite what he might claim otherwise.
Aidan had been the one kidnapped so many years ago—why the burden would fall on him to prove his loyalty, he couldn’t fathom. But he’d noticed the MacAlpin men postured like roosters at a cockfight, each one angling for dominance, particularly Gregor. So, it seemed until Aidan proved he wasn’t really some criminally minded blackguard come from the tropics to swindle the family, he’d be held in suspicion.
And now he was to suffer the humiliation of once again laboring for another man’s bread. His dread grew with every step.
But he needed to act the aspiring businessman, and businessmen knew how to read simple words on a page. He’d rather indenture himself again before confessing the shame of his illiteracy to his brothers. Anya was the only one who knew, and with her son, she had no time for tutoring.
He crested a low hill and spotted the humble Farquharson cottage. Modest pastureland spread before him like a knotty green blanket.
His eyes found Elspeth at once, tripping over her skirts in a mucky paddock, dragging a heavy bucket behind her. Reaching the trough, she hoisted it up to dump the contents, but even leaning it against the edge, she couldn’t get the bucket high enough, and it kept sliding down.
The scene was preposterous. He jogged down the hill. What was a bookish girl like this doing as a farmhand?
Aidan watched the bucket slip from her hands, fall, and land on her toe, the contents spilling along the muddy ground. She doubled over to lean on the fence, breathing heavily, her hands fisted.
He noted her entirely inappropriate footwear. She’d be lucky if she hadn’t broken a toe.
Last time he’d seen her, she’d thought he was a brute. He might as well be a brute in truth.
“Easy, luvvie. ” With a hand on the fence, Aidan vaulted into the paddock. He plucked the bucket from the dirt, scooping as much of the oats back in as he could.
She looked up, stricken. Her blond hair looked yellow in the sunlight, and he wondered if it was his imagination that put matching yellow flecks in her light blue eyes. “Thank you. ”
He bit his tongue, wanting instead to snap, Don’t fret, I’ll not sully you with my boorish hands. Instead, he asked, “Is it breeding time?”
Seeing the girl’s blush, he swallowed a swear. She’d best be a good teacher, because it seemed he was going to have to work hard for these lessons.
“Breeding?” she asked weakly.
He spoke through gritted teeth. “Yes. I asked, are the sheep currently breeding?”
“Oh, breeding. ” Her shoulders relaxed. “No, we’re not breeding. My father didn’t …” She turned from him and shrugged. “We don’t own a ram. ”
