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“And who runs your estate? Your father?” she asked.
“We have a very competent steward,” he replied.
“And if I went to live at your home in Rosbreck Castle,” Janice mused, “what would I do all day?”
James shrugged. “Whatever ladies do all day,” he replied carelessly.
Janice stared at him in disbelief. “So you expect me to knit? Needlepoint? Perhaps learn to play a musical instrument? Draw?” She took a step away from him, then threw back her head and laughed uproariously. “I think you have the wrong woman, sir. I prefer a life of hard work to one of idleness. I prefer to wear working women’s clothes, not evening gowns. Find yourself someone else. I wish you luck and all the happiness in the world—with another woman.”
Janice turned on her heel to walk out, but James’s voice, and the desperation in it, stopped her. Facing him again, she frowned, then raised her eyebrows in a question.
“I am sorry… I am afraid I have been very rude and unkind,” he said awkwardly. “I have not been entirely honest with you.”
Janice crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked at him inquiringly.
“Our estate is in very bad shape,” he confessed. “I need some capital so that we can begin to repair it because it has been neglected for a long while. But in case you think I am only concerned about your dowry, please believe me when I say that I could never live with someone I could not like and respect. I-I think I could like you, and I am sure you could feel the same about me, given time. I promise that I would be the best husband you could wish for.”
He looked at the floor, twisting his hands nervously, and when he raised his head, he looked into a pair of eyes that were as hard as slate.
Janice felt contempt rising inside her like vomit, and it was all she could do not to spit at him. She hated weak men.
“No,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “That will never happen. As I said, I wish you luck in your search, but you will not be marrying me. Goodbye.”
With that, she marched out of the room and never saw James Aitken again.
* * *
“Da, I am sorry, but I cannot marry that man,” Janice announced, collapsing onto the chair beside his bed.
The laird gave a wheezy sigh. “Then I will find someone else for you,” he said wearily.
“But I don’t want to marry!” Janice protested. “I want to stay here and help to look after the estate. Da, I have no other ambition.”
“But I do,” her father said firmly. “There is a young man out there for you. It is a woman’s destiny to marry and have children, Janice. It is part of God’s plan.”
Janice sighed. Privately, she thought that God made many mistakes, and she was about to give her father her opinion on the matter, but when she looked into his rheumy grey eyes, her heart melted. She knew that he only had days left. Why could she not try to keep him happy for the short time he had left?
She reached out to clasp his hand, then she stroked his face gently, and a short time later, he was asleep. She pulled the coverlet up to his chin, poked the fire, and put on some more wood. Then, with one last glance at his dear face, she left, closing the door carefully.
“How is he?” Alasdair asked as he came walking toward her. “I was just coming to see him.”
Janice sighed and put a hand over her eyes. “Not good,” she answered huskily.
Alasdair studied her for a long moment, then awkwardly, he put his arms around his sister.
Janice, taken by surprise, stiffened, then relaxed in her brother’s embrace. “It has been a very long time since you hugged me,” she remarked, laughing.
Alasdair sighed as Janice’s arms went around his waist. “A brother can hug his sister once every five years or so, can he not?” he asked with a chuckle.
They stood in one another’s embrace for a short while before he pulled away. “I have been thinking.” His tone was sober for once as he led her into the parlor and sat down. “Seeing Da this way has made me realize what a fool I have been. I have been wasting my life playing when I should have been growing up, and watching you has made me feel ashamed. I have decided to learn how to be a proper laird…if you will help me.”
“Of course I will,” she answered warmly. “Da will be thrilled, and so am I. I do love you, my brother, and I am so proud of you.”
Alasdair looked astonished for a few moments, then he laughed. “I am so glad one of us is!” he said ruefully.
17
Laird Steward was becoming weaker, and Janice expected every day that passed to be his last. He could no longer eat and was surviving on a thin but nutritious soup made by their cook, weak porridge, and milk.
