Page 3

G unn had been on edge all morning as he waited for Jocelyn to come down to the dining room to break her fast. Flora had informed him that she was very grateful for the meal last night.

He scoffed. A simple meal wasn’t anything to be so thankful for. The poor lass looked like she hadn’t eaten a hearty meal in a long time. She could use to put on some weight. She looked far too frail.

Or mayhap it was the dim light.

Seeing her in the sunlight would show him if his original assessment was correct.

Flora hurried into the room.

“My laird. Miss Jocelyn is on her way down,” she whispered excitedly, then threw her shoulders back when Jocelyn walked into the dining room. “Miss Jocelyn, I have readied this table for ye.” Pointing to a table, Flora waited for Jocelyn to sit before grabbing the tea pot.

Gunn noticed the way her eyes scanned the room before her shoulders relaxed. It was almost as if she was looking for someone. She folded her napkin on her lap and thanked Flora for the tea she poured.

There were so many questions he wanted to ask. But they all felt intrusive. Instead, he went with pleasantries and small talk once Flora left for the kitchen.

“Good morn. I hope ye have enjoyed your stay?”

She took a sip of tea, her tongue darting out to catch a drop on her lip and nodded.

His eyes tracked her tongue and he tugged at his collar. The room suddenly felt a wee bit warm.

“I did. You have been most kind, and the meal last night was delicious. You must give my compliments to your cook.”

“She will be glad to hear that. Flora will be out shortly with scones, jam, and clotted cream. Please let her ken if ye require aught else.”

He left the room for fear that he would ply her with questions. Not one to usually be the curious type, that was an area his friend, Malcolm, dominated. That man was curious about everything.

But for some reason, he just couldn’t get the questions about the woman to stop swirling about his head.

In his study, he sank into his chair and opened his books. Dread overcame him at the numbers listed there. Most of them in the negative. The last thing he could afford to do was rent out a room at a fifth of the cost. His conscience wouldn’t let him take advantage though. It wasn’t in his blood.

He wasn’t his father.

Nay, something in the reserved way Jocelyn spoke and acted let him ken that there was something amiss with her. He’d just met the lass, and yet an overwhelming sense of protectiveness washed over him. He didn’t get it. He’d never had this reaction to a lass before, especially one he’d just met.

He refocused on the numbers in the ledger spread out in front of him. If something didn’t change soon, he would either have to close the Thistle & Pig or sell it.

Neither of those were options he wanted to consider.

Failure had him slumping his shoulders. He just didn’t understand. Before he’d left to fight, it had been a thriving establishment. When he’d returned, it was barely staying afloat, and the money he’d set aside from its earnings had dwindled away.

His head snapped up at the knock on his door.

“Theodore,” he greeted, standing up and extending his hand for a shake.

“Gunn. Ye look like ye havena slept for days. What ails ye?”

He pushed his hands through his short hair. “I just wish I had an explanation for how e’erything went wrong.”

With a frown, the man looked around the room.

Theodore MacInnis had managed the establishment for Gunn while he was away. He’d kenned him for years and had full confidence in his ability to take care of the business while he was away.

Coming home to it on the verge of closing was not what he was expecting.

He sighed. “Looking o’er the books is misery.”

“I see ye’ve got a new customer. Bonny lass, she is,” he chirped, changing the subject.

“Aye, though, I am no’ charging her full price. And I’m giving her the meals for free, so she’ll hardly be my salvation.”

Theodore clucked his tongue. “Following those business practices, ’tis no wonder ye arena making any profit.”

“Ye arena funny. The lass looked like she needed a helping hand. I couldna say nay.”

Theodore wagged his finger at him in the air. “See. That is where ye are losing money. Ye are too soft.”

Gunn barked out a laugh. “Now that is comical. At no point in my life has anyone e’er accused me of being too soft.

” Anything but, actually. He had a reputation around town for being one not to mess with.

Well known in the boxing clubs, he still remained undefeated.

Proud of it, too. And when things got too rowdy in the pub, it was he who single-handedly removed the rabble-rousers.

“Who is she?” Theodore asked, interest lighting his brown eyes.

For some reason, his interest in Jocelyn irked Gunn.

“Just a lass passing through. I dinna ken how long she will be staying.”

It wasn’t a lie.

“Well, if ye arena charging her, chances are strong she’ll stay for quite some time.”

Gunn narrowed his eyes. “I dinna think she is here to take advantage of me, if that is what ye are suggesting.” He walked over to the sideboard and poured two glasses of whisky and handed one to Theodore.

Savoring the burn as the amber liquid smoothed its way down his throat, he wet his lips.

“She appears to have had a rough time of it. I only want to make her journey a little easier.”

Theodore harrumphed, his expression letting Gunn ken that he didn’t believe him. “How long have ye been saying that to yourself to get ye to believe it?” He chuckled, sipping his whisky.

“Enough about my guests. Is there something that ye need? Ye arena due to work this week.”

As the manager, Gunn had kept Theodore on, but he’d severely cut back on the time he spent here. This was a week he’d given him off.

Theodore shrugged, and picked at a piece of lint on his trousers. “I just wanted check in to see how ye fare.”

“Ye ken how the business is struggling. If ye have any idea on how to make the patrons come back, I’d appreciate it.”

“’Tis such a shame.” Theodore shook his head, his lips pursed. “The Thistle & Pig used to be such a thriving business. It seems e’eryone has moved on to other pubs.”

“My whisky is just as good, if no’ better, than anyone else’s. I’ve got the finest cook. The cleanest rooms. I need to think of something or I’m going to have to close its doors.”

With raised brows, Theodore assessed him. “’Tis that bad? Are ye certain?”

“’Tis bad. Verra bad. I already have ye working half your time. I’ve let some people go. My mind is open to suggestions, but whate’er they are, they need to be quick because I feel like I’m on a sinking ship when it comes to this place.”

“Thankfully, ye’ve got your other businesses and properties. Surely ye could move around money if needed.”

“Aye, mayhap I could. But I dinna want to throw it away, which is what I feel like I would be doing if I just keep pushing money in this place.”

It was a lie. He had already put the spare money he had into the pub.

Truth be told, there wasn’t anything left for him to give.

His estates were running on the bare minimum.

Luckily, he’d been able to retain his staff there, but if he took any more losses, that wouldn’t be the case for much longer. He was desperate.

Desperate.

The word tasted sour on his tongue.

But his problems were his own. He wasn’t about to announce to the world just how dire his situation had grown to be. The Thistle & Pig needed to thrive once again. When it did, everything would right itself.

Gunn just needed to figure out how to turn it around.

Theodore stood. “Well, I am sure ye will think of something. I must go. I’ve got business elsewhere, but I wanted to check in. I shall see ye next week.”

Gunn watched him leave and sank back into his chair, cradling his head in his hands as he stared at the ceiling. What could he do?

Failure was not an option. He wouldn’t be able to face his friends with a failed business. They had already warned him of the purchase years ago, but he wouldn’t listen. He needed this to be successful just to prove them wrong.

*

Jocelyn waited for the laird to re-enter the dining hall, but after Flora returned three times asking her if she needed anything else, she came to the conclusion that he was off on business.

She had wanted to approach him about employment. “Flora. Do you know when the laird will return?”

“I dinna ken, miss. Shall I give him a message when he does?”

Jocelyn thought for a moment and then shook her head. “No, thank you. I will try to catch him later. Thank you for breakfast. Your laird was right when he said your cook made the best scones. They were divine.”

Leaving the dining hall, she made her way up to her room. Mayhap she should have a look around town and see what other establishments were there. Maybe one was advertising for help.

Securing her reticule around her wrist, she exited her room, locking the door behind her. Downstairs, there was still no sign of the laird, so she left the inn to familiarize herself with the town.

The inn was near the town center, which Jocelyn found quite quaint.

The vernacular buildings added charm and made the street seem welcoming.

The cobblestoned streets were clean and there was a crispness in the air that reminded her of autumn and warm apple cider.

A treat her mother would always purchase this time of year.

Jocelyn would always savor that first sip as she sat on the bench in their small garden, watching the turning leaves sway in the wind, their vibrant colors splashed against the gray sky.

Or perhaps she was reading into it because that’s what she wanted it to be. At this point, she had no choice but to make a home here. She was at the end of her coin. Thankfully, it ran out in a town that looked like it could be one she could settle in.

Blend in.

That’s all she really wanted. To meld in with society and not be bothered.