Page 16 of The Highlander’s Hellion Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #1)

16

H e had to stop himself from heaving a sigh of relief. There had been no part of him that looked forward to explaining that he didn’t know what his wife was doing in the village. Not when it would raise other questions that he knew he would not be able to answer.

“Aye,” he called out to the person on the other side of the door, prompting them to push it open.

Effie’s face appeared a moment later, her eyes tight with apprehension as she spotted the two men seated in the study with him.

“Ye said ye’d like me to come in a half hour, Me Laird,” the maid stammered.

Duncan waved his hand, beckoning her over. She obliged, her eyes darting between Evander and Arthur.

Duncan had always been aware that he and the two Lairds across from him made an imposing group. But it had been a long time since he had seen the evidence of that written so clearly across the lines of someone’s face.

Effie’s hands were in front of her body, her fingers anxiously tugging at one another.

“Ye said that me wife was in the village,” Duncan prompted, not missing the pointed glance his friends shared.

They had obviously realized that he didn’t have any more details than what he had shared. And, Duncan refused to look at them.

“I did, M-Me Laird,” Effie stammered again, her eyes dropping to the floor in front of her.

“And why is me wife in the village?” Duncan pressed.

When the maid opened her mouth to speak, he already saw the answer written all over her face.

He held up a hand before she could utter a word. “And dinnae say because it’s Tuesday.”

Effie’s mouth snapped shut, her answer dying in her throat as she reconsidered her words.

Duncan sighed in frustration. “Why do me wife and daughter go to the village every Tuesday?” he asked through gritted teeth, rephrasing the question in a way that might be easier for the maid to answer.

“They go to teach the children,” Effie explained, her tone implying that she thought the answer was obvious. “She’s been doin’ it for nearly four years now.”

Duncan’s mind whirled. His wife was teaching children?

“What is she teachin’ to them?” he asked.

The maid furrowed her brow. “She’s teachin’ them their letters, Me Laird. Teachin’ them how to read and write.”

Duncan’s gaze was still fixed on Effie, but he didn’t miss the way Arthur and Evander shifted in their seats. He didn’t dare steal a glance at them, not when Effie seemed like she was mere seconds away from turning on her heels and running out the door.

“And ye said she’s been doin’ this for nearly four years?”

Effie nodded. “Aye, Me Laird. When Ms. Malina goes to the village to tend to the sick, Lady Marsden and Lady Rosie go with her. They started by teachin’ everyone—the adults and children alike. But, as the adults learned and the children she’d taught grew up, she only teaches the wee ones now. Just the bairns who were too small to learn when she first came.”

Duncan nodded, schooling his expression into one of cool aloofness. “Thank ye, Effie.”

The maid sensed the dismissal in his tone. He didn’t miss the flicker of relief in her eyes as she turned on her heel and scurried out of the room.

Turning his attention back to his friends, he found both of their gazes fixed on him. Arthur’s, as always, was unreadable. There wasn’t a sliver of emotion in the green eye that regarded him, and Duncan could no sooner tell what he was thinking than he could pluck the moon from the sky.

Evander, however, was a different story entirely. His dark eyes were dancing with amusement, one eyebrow arched sardonically.

“Ye didnae ken why yer wife was in the village?” he asked, his tone bordering on mocking.

Duncan bristled. “I havenae been home for a full day, Evander. I dinnae ken all of her habits yet. But rest assured, I intend to find out.”

The wooden legs of his chair scraped across the stone floor as he pushed back from his desk. His eyes flicked between his friends.

“Do ye think yer horses will be too tired to ride?” he asked.

Confusion flickered across both their faces, but it was Arthur who replied first.

“We didnae ride them too hard,” he explained in his even-keeled manner. “And the stewards were gettin’ them oats and water when we left. So, they should be alright when we go back out.”

“Why?” Evander pressed.

Duncan stepped around his desk, his heavy footfalls echoing off the stone floor. “Because we’re goin’ to the village,” he answered.

Evander and Arthur made no further argument as they jumped out of their chairs, following after Duncan as he led the way through the castle.

The two knew these halls nearly as well as he did. They had grown up in this castle together, had been lads together. Their fathers and grandfathers had been friends and allies for generations long before they were born.

But still, they fell into step behind him, matching his powerful strides.

“She’s done a good job runnin’ and maintainin’ the castle,” Evander noted as they walked through the corridors, making their way toward the front doors. “Added a few things as well, I see.”

He pointed to one of the paintings they passed, but Duncan didn’t stop to get a better look. It was something that he himself had noticed.

“Aye,” he admitted. “She truly has.”

The entire time they walked through the castle, and even as they waited outside for the stable hands to bring their horses, Duncan’s mind was spinning.

Of all the things Effie could have told him about his wife, her going to the village every Tuesday to teach his people how to read and write was not what he had expected.

No wonder everyone around here acts as if she’s a saint. Because to them, she is one.

“A laird is only as powerful as the loyalty his people give him.”

“What?”

It was only when Evander asked the question that Duncan realized he had spoken aloud. He turned his attention to his friend.

“It was somethin’ me faither used to say,” he explained.

“And now ye’re seein’ how loyal they are to her?” Arthur prompted.

Duncan nodded.

“It’s good, though,” Evander mused. “If they love her and are loyal to her, all ye have to do is win her over. The rest will follow.”

It wasn’t something Duncan had considered, but he had to admit that what Evander said made sense.

He hadn’t missed the way his people acted around him, like he was a loose cannon that could fire off at any moment. They skirted around him, and fear pervaded any room he entered.

But it was not fear that Duncan wanted. No. It was loyalty.

He’d had it once, before he’d left all those years ago. And as much as he loathed to admit it, he could not fault any of the people in his employ for being apprehensive now that he’d returned.

Duncan had become a different man after Lucy’s death. He had been blind with rage, and he had acted in ways that he was not proud of. But perhaps Evander had a point.

Is it possible that by gettin’ Alison to trust me, they will too?

For the time being, it was the only plan he had. Only time would tell if it was the right one.