Page 60 of The Highlander’s Improper Wife

Caroline hung on the words.

“You know I married,” Taran replied.

“Brought the Sassenach to Strathmore?”

“She is the Viscountess of Blackhall, Darby. Do not forget that. Even when I am absent.” “Aye.”

Caroline peered around the building again.

“Darby, I will have your word.”

“Aye,” he said. “No cattle rustling, no…donations.”

“There is no need now,” Taran said. “There will be plenty to go around.”

Stubbornness appeared on the man’s face. “What you consider plenty may not be the same as me.”

“Are you hungry?” Taran asked.

“Nay,” Darby answered, his tone that of a belligerent child.

“Have you enough clothing and wood to keep you warm?”

Darby didn’t lift his eyes from where he stared at the ground. “Aye.”

“Then we are off to a good start. No more extortion. No more breaking the law. If you have need of something, come to me.”

The man’s head lifted and he studied Taran for a long moment, then nodded. Taran turned so quickly Caroline barely managed to duck back into the lane before he could see her. She hesitated, unsure whether to turn left or right, then hurried down the lane in the opposite direction.

“Caroline.”

She froze at sound of Taran’s voice echoing off the buildings. This was the second time in less than a week she’d been caught where she shouldn’t be. Determined footfalls rang on the stone lane behind her, and she turned as he reached her.

“Good afternoon, my lord.”

His brow lifted. “Spying?”

She shrugged. “I just happened to be at the right place at the right time.”

“Every spy’s defense. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see the place I now call home.”

“What say you so far?” he asked in a soft voice.

“There is a great deal of disrepair,” she answered honestly.

He nodded and grasped her hand, slipping it into the crook of his arm as he started them in the direction she’d been headed. “Aye. My father gave little thought to the upkeep.”

“But that will change now that you have my fortune.”

He glanced at her. “Would you rather your money go to gambling and mistresses?” No, she had to admit, she wouldn’t.

“What plans have you for bringing things up to snuff?”

He laughed, a rich, deep sound that made her want to press an ear to his chest so that she might hear the sound roll through his large frame.

“My plans for bringing things up to snuff begin with the supplies that will arrive within the week. Everything cannot be finished before winter, but the worst of the cottages must be made warmer before the first snow.”