Page 121 of Ghost of the Ton

“Did ye not think to tell me about my sister’s…” He paused before he added the word whoring.

Mia arched an eyebrow, her eyes hardening.

“Her…condition,” he said. “I’m her brother and her laird.”

“It’s her body, Hamish,” Mia replied. “It’s not my tale to tell. Though I do regret one thing.”

“Which is?”

“I urged Iona to tell you that she was expecting a child. In my folly, I believed you’d show her kindness and understanding rather than condemnation. I thought you loved her.”

“I do,” he said. “But even ye must understand how this will look—the laird’s sister, with child, and unmarried. Fuck, Iona, I’ll be a laughingstock.”

“Why?” Mia said. “For not keeping under control the women you think you own? We’re not cattle to be tethered and penned when we don’t follow our master’s commands. Yet you have nothing to say against the man who sired Iona’s baby. Doubtless you’ll applaud his virility and ignore his infidelity.”

“So he is married?”

Iona tilted her chin up, cheeks reddening, eyes bright.

“His wife won’t care,” she said. “She spreads her favors around more than Maisie. Which means she’s a fool, seeing as Maisie at least gets a coin when she parts her thighs. A shilling a time, if it’s a quick rutting—isn’t that right, brother? Ye’ve done it often enough.”

“Surely ye dinnae think—”

“Enough!” Iona cried, placing her hands over her ears. “I cannae bear to hear any more!”

Before Hamish could respond, his sister picked up her skirts and ran along the path toward the castle, sobbing. Her crying could still be heard after she’d turned a corner and disappeared.

“That was well done,” Mia said, picking up the pot at her feet.

“What, my sister’s behavior?”

She rolled her eyes, then set off toward the cottage.

“Wait!” he called, following her.

She turned at the door and sighed. “You should go after her. She needs you.”

“She needs a thrashing.”

Mia’s eyes widened, and Hamish shook his head, his initial fury already dissipating.

“Och, no, she disnae. But ye must agree that some of the blame lies with her.”

“She’s barely older than a child herself.”

“She’s a year older than Ma was when she married,” Hamish said. “If she’s old enough to spread her thighs and bear the fruits of her debauchery, then she’s no longer a child.”

“I don’t mean her age,” Mia said. “I meant her character. Any fool can see that Iona’s a wild spirit—she acts on impulse. Perhaps when she’s older she may settle, but before she does…”

“Before she does, I should expect her to continue to behave like an animal? And Ma…” He paused, his gut twisting with horror. “Devil’s ballocks, does Ma know?”

“I don’t think anyone does.”

“I find it hard to believe that, given how brazen she’s been.”

“She’s not brazen. She just wants you to notice her.”

“Then she’s more of a fool than I thought,” he said, tamping down his anger. “Does she want to be thrashed?”