AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“A nice dusk to enjoy,” he commented.
“Spring ones are my favourite.” Relief for the change of subject apparent.
“You don’t say,” he answered simply.
Her feet veered towards home. “Are you going to the manor?” she asked.
“Not yet, the men invited me for a pint.”
“All right, see you.” And walked away.
“What would you say if I asked you for the surplus of oats to donate it to the Darrochs?” Lachlan tested the waters with Drostan.
Even though he had offered Moira help, he must take it with The McKendrick. No doubt he would accept it. The tricky part would be to say why Lachlan needed it.
“Aren’t they growing theirs this year?” his oldest brother probed, sitting behind the desk.
“They are, but the clan faced a…situation recently.” In his brother’s study next day, he sat in front of the desk spread with paperwork. The late afternoon raced outside the window with its watery light.
At that, the other man’s eyes snapped. “What kind of situation?” Any instability in the Highlands would affect the McKendricks and The Laird would not sit in his comfortable study if he must take action.
Which encouraged Lachlan to answer carefully. “Inadvertently, the cattle invaded the fields.”
“Excuse me!” Drostan’s brows raised quizzically. “Doesn’t your woman know how to manage a manor?”
She’s not my woman, he should say. And the thought of saying it made him feel like a liar. This scared him to the point he briefly entertained running bare feet to the Far East.
“She’s better at it than you,” he taunted his brother.
The Laird inspected him, a curious glint in his eyes; nothing escaped his attention if it involved his family. “I feared I’d never see the day my youngest brother fell for a woman,” the older man taunted back.
I didn’t, and I won’t! He vowed silently. And again, his guts told him he lied.
“My question was about the surplus, remember?” he reminded The Laird.
“Of course, the McKendricks would donate it,” he reassured. “The chit will be family after all.”
And that was when his conscience bit Lachlan. Their ruse was not for real. Ultimately, the McKendricks would donate to a non-related clan. Lachlan possessed money of his own, he would buy the grain in Aberdeen if need be. Luck being on their side, none of this would be necessary. Lachlan must own how he increasingly admired the lass. In her shoes, he would not have contemplated trying to sow again. Moira showed spirit, leadership, and resourcefulness. Her strength and clear mind in times of crisis was invaluable. And would probably save the Darrochs.
Fingal and Wallace joined them as the conversation steered to general topics.
Down in the pantry late that night, Moira took inventory of oats, pickled vegetables, cheese, jams, and other preserves made last autumn. The list would serve to plan for next winter. On the table at the centre, lay a parchment and a pencil next to a candle on a holder. The quiet house indicated that the servants had already retired. She could have asked for Murray’s wife, the housekeeper, to do it, but Moira did not want to go to her chamber and risk another sleepless night. Sleepless with fretting and—
“Don’t you ever ask for help?” The McKend
rick monument said behind her.
Startled, she almost dropped a jar of blueberry jam. “Don’t you ever knock?” she rebuked. Annoyance creased between her brows when she swivelled to him.
Unbelievable how the man found her wherever she was, never allowing her a reprieve from his stirring presence.
Without answering, he strode to the table. “Mrs Murray can do that.”
The pantry was four by four feet at most. Its enclosed space in the basement under the kitchen assured its freshness, but also its stillness. With Lachlan inside, the place brimmed with an intimacy she did not care for.
His six feet plus of taut male made it feel cramped, especially as he loomed with those chiselled features. His focus intent on hers.
“I’m doing it,” she replied drily. “If this answers your question, you can go back up.”
