Page 25 of One Forbidden Kiss with the Laird (The Cinderella Shepherd Sisters #2)
C allum hefted the axe up in his right hand, feeling the weight of it, and turned to the painted target on the tall tree in front of him.
He breathed deeply, blocking out the noise from the world around him, allowing nothing to exist but him and the weapon in his hand.
He hefted it back over his shoulder, adjusted his position slightly and then threw, watching critically as it spun through the air and then landed with a satisfying thud, embedded in the trunk of the tree.
‘Am I to gather you’ve had a bad day?’ Bruce asked him from his position a few feet away.
‘What makes you think that?’
‘You always throw best when you’re in a bad mood.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
His friend shrugged, holding up his fingers to count off as he spoke next.
‘That time the Williams brothers were thrown into prison for trespassing. When Joanna Rigby refused to walk out with you. When your father gave you a black eye when he thought you were an intruder trying to steal all of Taigh Blath’s treasures. ’
‘They are the instances you think I’ve thrown best?’
‘Aye. There’s no arguing. Ever since we were lads you’ve always needed a crisis to sharpen your mind.’
Callum walked over to the tree trunk and pulled at the axe. It was wedged firmly into the wood and he needed to brace his foot against the exposed roots of the tree to get a good purchase. Once free he took it to Bruce and handed it over.
The large man squared his shoulders and took up a stance with feet wide apart and knees slightly bent. Callum remained quiet while Bruce prepared his shot, watching the axe sail through the air, thrown with ease by the big man and landing a little off centre in the trunk.
‘Maybe I need to find myself a girl to pine over. Might make my throws more accurate.’
‘Or perhaps just leave off the whisky before breakfast.’
Bruce took his time removing the axe from the tree, walking back to Callum with an unhurried gait.
‘You’re itching to snatch this axe off me. It won’t save you from your heartache.’
‘This has nothing to do with Miss Shepherd,’ Callum said, grabbing the axe from Bruce’s hand. ‘I am just a man who wants to throw an axe into a tree. There need not be anything more to it than that.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do.’
‘Good.’ Bruce was silent for a few seconds and then sighed and spoke again. ‘Look, everyone is tiptoeing around you, but I think you need some good, old-fashioned, straight talking.’
‘From you?’ Callum threw the axe, irritated when it curved to the side and struck the tree at an angle.
‘Who better? I’ve known you for twenty-five years and I am one of the few people around here who does not have a vested interest in what decisions you make about your future.’
Bruce was a landowner in his own right. Although his family were not titled, many generations earlier they had acquired some land.
Through cautious investments and careful management what they owned grew.
A few years ago Bruce had inherited a thriving estate and a few properties on the land adjacent to that now owned by Sir William.
It was not huge, about a tenth of the size of the estate Callum’s father had lost, but it was securely his.
He did not need Callum to guarantee his future in Ballachulish, as so many other people did.
Callum retrieved the axe and passed it to Bruce.
‘Endow me with your wisdom then.’
‘Not here. Too many things with a sharp edge around. Let us go and get a drink and set the world to rights.’
* * *
The local inn was only a short walk away and before long they were settled on a table in the corner of the dark room.
Despite the sunshine outside, the main room of the Lost Sheep Inn was dingy and filled with smoke from a fire that wasn’t really needed.
There were some tables set on a patch of grass out the front of the inn, rickety things fixed together with rusty nails and splintering wood, but these were all full on such a fine day and Callum didn’t want anyone to overhear whatever difficult truths Bruce was going to confront him with.
‘You’re torturing yourself unnecessarily,’ Bruce said eventually once they had their drinks in front of them.
‘Hardly. Do you think I am enjoying this?’
‘I have to wonder.’
Callum sighed. ‘I know what needs to be done. It is all I have been working towards for over a decade. It is why I spent so long in the frozen wastelands of Canada before coming home.’
‘No one is denying your noble sacrifice,’ Bruce murmured.
‘You’re mocking me.’
‘You were eighteen when your father died. Eighteen when the creditors swooped in and took everything. You were not to blame.’
‘I know. I do not blame myself.’
‘I think you do, somewhere deep down.’
‘I feel a sense of responsibility for the people who should have had a secure future living and working on the Thomson estate, but I do not think I am the one who lost it.’
‘You shoulder your father’s sins…’
‘Is there a point to this, Bruce?’ Callum said a little sharper than he meant to. The last few days had been difficult and he did not wish to get into a debate as to who was to blame for ruining the lives of all the locals.
‘You have this notion that you must restore what was lost. That it is your responsibility to give people back their homes and security.’
‘I am Earl of Leven; it is my responsibility.’
‘At what cost?’
Callum was silent. He thought of Catherine Kingsley. The woman who was going to one day very soon be his wife. Then he thought of Selina Shepherd and the undeniable attraction he felt for her, the connection they shared.
‘By marrying Miss Kingsley you will regain control over some of the land you lost and likely have influence over anything Sir William does not give as his daughter’s dowry.
Yet you will be miserable, married to a woman you do not care about, stuck with her for the next forty years knowing you let the one you loved slip through your fingers. ’
‘I know, Bruce,’ Callum said quietly. He wondered if his friend was right.
Maybe he did love Selina. He certainly felt something he had never felt before.
‘But what can I do? If I marry Miss Shepherd, Sir William will keep control of the land and probably start clearing it of tenants out of sheer spite.’
‘So you have considered it?’ Bruce said quietly.
Callum nodded. He had thought little else of what his life would be like if he married Selina recently. He could not get her from his mind.
‘I do not profess to have the answer, but I feel as though you are making a terrible mistake,’ Bruce said as he took a long gulp of beer.
‘What sort of friend would I be if I let you go ahead with something that I knew would make you unhappy?’ He looked at Callum squarely.
‘You cannot have everything, but it is still your choice what you do decide to have. Happiness is within your reach and no one here in Ballachulish would resent you for choosing the path that led to your contentment.’
Callum shook his head. ‘But they would. Not outwardly. The people here are good people, kind people, but the resentment would start to build. They would wonder what gives me the right to choose my own happiness over their survival.’
Bruce remained silent and Callum sighed. ‘I wish there was a way. I wish more than anything there was some way that I could be with Miss Shepherd and not condemn the locals to land clearances and evictions.’
He drained his mug of beer and clapped his old friend on the shoulder, standing up and surveying the room before making for the door.
There wasn’t an easy solution to his problem and he needed to stop delaying the inevitable.
This afternoon he would go to Taigh Blath and insist he and Sir William finalised the contract that would see him marry Catherine Kingsley and regain control of the land around Ballachulish.
* * *
‘You look very determined my love,’ Lady Leven said, hurrying to catch her son as he strode down the main street of the village.
‘I am on my way to see Sir William. I want to get this whole affair finished and finalised.’
‘Except it won’t be finished, will it?’
Callum turned to his mother, frowning. ‘What do you mean? He can hardly go back on his word once it is put to paper in a legal document.’
‘I wasn’t talking of Sir William. I was talking about Miss Kingsley.
’ Lady Leven slipped her arm through Callum’s and gently guided him off the main path.
There was a footpath that led through the trees to a quiet area where she liked to walk and it was here she led Callum now.
‘You will be married to Miss Kingsley. That is something that will last a lifetime.’
‘Are you and Bruce conspiring together?’
‘Mr Bruce is a good man. Am I to gather he’s had words with you, too?’
‘I have just come from the Lost Sheep where he imparted his worries over a mug of beer.’
‘Listen to him. He’s wise and successful.’
Callum fell silent for a while, wondering why his closest friends and family seemed intent on cautioning him today.
‘Have I ever told you of your father’s courtship of me?’ Lady Leven said, gazing out at the beautiful view in front of them.
‘No.’
‘I didn’t think so,’ she sighed. ‘It was non-existent. I met him three times before we married and two of those times he barely said more than a word of greeting.’
‘It was arranged by your father?’ It was hardly the surprise.
Although a drunk in private, the late Lord Leven would have been viewed as quite the catch.
His mother was English, from a family of impoverished aristocrats who no doubt thought they were sending their daughter to a better life north of the border.
Either that or they were just glad of one less mouth to feed.