Page 1 of Owned by the Scarred Laird

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“Ye’re nae listenin’ again.”

“I am.” Chloe pulled her shawl tighter and kept walking, half a step behind Jenny, the way she always did without thinking about it. The garden path curved gently toward the rose beds, and the morning air carried the smell of damp earth and something faintly sweet, almost gone for the season.

“What did I just say?”

“Somethin’ about Lord Dunbar and the east wing.”

Jenny turned to look at her. “That was three full sentences ago.”

Chloe said nothing. She had been watching a sparrow work at the base of the garden wall, determined and unbothered, entirely indifferent to the conversation happening above it. She envied it a little.

Jenny let out a breath that was not quite a sigh and turned back to the path. “Ye ken, most ladies’ maids pretend to listen, at least.”

“I could pretend if ye’d prefer.”

“Daenae bother. Ye’re terrible at it.” But there was no edge in her voice. There never was, not with Chloe. Jenny walked with her hands loosely clasped, her skirts brushing the gravel, at peace with the morning in the way she was at peace with most things she had decided not to argue with.

A groundsman crossed the path with an armful of kindling and ducked his head without breaking stride. "Me Lady." Then, quicker, easier, to Chloe, "Miss Mullen."

"See," Jenny said, once he'd gone. "Even Robbie kens how to listen when someone's talking to him."

"Robbie's paid to listen. I'm only paid to carry yer shawl and agree with ye."

"Ye're paid to do both badly, from what I can tell."

Then the sound echoed through the courtyard. It was initially voices, intertwined and moving quickly. Both of them halted.

Jenny tilted her head, listening. A slow smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. “Do ye ken, the last time I heard a commotion like that…”

“Daenae say it.”

“I got married.”

Chloe laughed, sudden and real, the kind she could not have stopped if she tried. “That cannae happen again. Ye’re already Thomas’s problem.”

“Lucky Thomas.” Jenny sounded entirely sincere about this. She stood still a moment longer, looking in the direction of the noise with that expression that showed her curiosity had already won, but she had not admitted it yet.

Chloe watched her, a sudden sense of dread running through her. “We should go and see.”

“It’s probably nothin’.”

“Aye, probably.” Chloe was already turning toward the house. “Come on then.”

She stepped into the entrance hall behind Jenny, noting how the staff had pulled back along the walls. The housekeeper stood near the stairs with her hands pressed together. Every face was angled toward the center, where stood a man she had never seen before.

He was broad and weathered, dressed in the colors of a clan she did not recognize. He had guards with him, stationed around the hall as if they belonged there, which they did not. He was not shouting exactly, but his voice filled every corner of the room as though he had built it to do that.

“I will nae stand here another minute. Bring the lass to me.”

Something tightened in Chloe’s chest. She was the only lass in this house.

Jenny glanced at her and stepped forward. “What is goin’ on in me house?”

The man barely glanced at her. “I’ve business here, me Lady. It willnae concern ye long.”

“Everythin’ in this hall concerns me.” Jenny’s voice was pleasant. Her eyes were not. “Who are ye, and what lass are ye talkin’ about? I have only one here, and she is me maid.”