“Jamie should nae have allowed it,” Ian grumbled.
Jillian suppressed a laugh that certainly would not be understood by any of the three men, whose faces looked like thunderclouds. Ian’s brother and her sister argued about everything. If one of them were to remark the day was pleasant, the other would find something to fault.
“I doubt Mari would have taken kindly to an order,” Jillian said with as straight a face as she could muster.
“Aye, ye are right.” Ian ran a hand through his hair. “I can only think how that conversation went.”
Broc snorted. “English women need to know their place. Jamie should have seen to it.”
“Jamie swore to protect Mari while we are in Scotland,” Ian replied. “He couldna do so if he did nae go with her.”
“Cowardly Englishmen may let their women rule them, but Jamie is aScot. He should nae let a wee female lead him about by his nose,” Duncan muttered.
“I will nae have my brother or my sister by marriage insulted by ye two,” Ian said, his voice low but with an unmistakable menace. “Ye are guests in my home.”
He picked up the letter again. “’Tis a pity Shane sailed to Ireland. I could have sent him down to see to the estates.”
“We can go,” Duncan said.
“Neither of ye can keep a civil tongue about England. Do ye think I would risk the redcoats marching north again?”
“They would nae get far,” Broc boasted.
“Do ye nae remember the Irish Ascendancy when the English took over the lands? Or the bannin’ of our kilts after Culloden?” Ian shook his head. “The two of ye would incite war.”
“You could go,” Jillian told Ian.
“I will nae leave ye here.”
“I will be fine. The babe is not due for two months.”
“For once, yer English wife makes sense,” Duncan said. “’Tis nothing wrong with her health. Women bear babes all the time.”
“My wife—”
“Please, Ian.” Jillian reached across the table to pat his hand. “The snows have not yet begun. You can ride down, find out if there is any word on Wesley, talk with our seneschals, hire some guards if necessary and be home well before the babe comes.”
He looked unconvinced, and Jillian loved him for wanting to be with her, but her practical side asserted itself. Jamie was as protective as Ian, and she was sure Mari would be safe. Ian, as laird, even though the English had banished the term, would feel an obligation to protect his clan. The workers at Newburn and Cantford were no different. “If Wesley is still in England, the people on our estates could be vulnerable. You know what he tried to do before.”
Looking grim, he finally nodded.
Jamie had his doubts whether Givens or Dobbs would ever make good swordsmen, but at least they weren’t fumbling—anddropping—the blades anymore. He shook his head as he walked toward the house from the courtyard, leaving the two men somewhat short of breath. By the saints! They used thin French rapiers. He shuddered to think what would happen if he attempted to use his claymore. How could grown men not know how to fight, even if they were house servants—as they’d tried to explain to him on every occasion he had them outside? Highland lads began training with sticks as soon as they could toddle and not tumble over.
He entered through the back kitchen, sniffing appreciatively. “What fine treat do ye have for a hungry mon this afternoon, Una?”
The plump cook gave him a big smile. The first time he had called her by name, she had looked startled, telling him everyone just referred to her as Cook.
“Ye were given a name,” he had said, “and I will be using it if ye dinnae mind.”That seemed to please her immensely. In any event, Una always made sure she had something tucked away for him.
“Scones, fresh from the oven,” she said as she placed one on a plate and dolloped clotted cream over it.
“My favorite,” Jamie said as he took the plate from her.
“You say that about everything.”
Jamie grinned. “’Tis because ye are such a good cook. I can nae decide.”
She blushed. “Be off with you then.”
