Page 16 of The Laird's Wicked Game
“Surely, ye can spare an afternoon to give the lads a lesson, Rae?” Tara teased gently, her silvery eyes glinting. “They’ve been wanting one for months now.”
Rae took a gulp of ale, even as irritation quickened inside him. He hadn’t lied earlier; he had a mountain of work awaiting him in his solar. Tax collection was coming up, and he wanted to make sure he had the correct levies ready for when his clan-chief’s bailiff came calling. He wished to get administrative matters out of the way so he could focus on other projects. Currently, he’d hired masons to construct a wall around Dounarwyse village, shielding it from the coast—and from attack. He wished to venture out and view their progress. “It’ll have to wait.”
“It’s just one afternoon,” Jack added. “I’ll saddle the quietest garron for Ailean.”
“Let me get the taxes sorted,” Rae muttered, stabbing his eating knife into his pie.
“So, the end of the week?” Jack pushed, winking in the boys’ direction.
Rae swallowed a curse. Cods. His brother was like a dog with a bone. He could see he wasn’t going to get out of this. “Very well,” he ground out. “Friday afternoon.”
The lads squealed at this, all smiles now—and Rae’s gut tightened, a familiar sense of guilt settling in. He really was a surly bastard. He’d also spent little time with Ailean and Lyle since Donalda’s death. They wished for nothing more than to trail after him like puppies, learning at his knee. He remembered how he’d adored his own father, and how much time Baird Maclean had spent preparing his firstborn to take his place.In truth, he’d lavished attention on both his sons. Jack too had always been made to feel cherished. However, their father’s murder, at the hands of Kendric Mackinnon, shattered their lives. It had turned Jack bitter and thrust Rae into lairdship before he was ready.
Aye, he knew he should give his sons the attention they craved, yet he found himself resisting it.
“Did the lads behave themselves today?” he asked Lady Grant then, forcing himself to squarely meet her eye.
“Aye,” she replied, favoring him with a polite smile.
Rae frowned. Was she merely telling him what he wanted to hear? He knew Ailean and Lyle could be difficult—and Esme had suffered much under their tyranny before he learned about it. He didn’t want her to fall into the same trap. He’d keep a closer on his sons over the coming days.
“We saw Lady Makenna fight,” Ailean announced then, waving around his eating knife. “We watched from the solar window.”
Beside her sister, Makenna’s mouth curved. “Did ye now?”
“When ye should have been studying?” Rae grumbled.
“It was just for a short while,” their tutor assured him, a blush rising to her cheeks.
“Aye,” Lyle chimed in. “If a lass can fight, why can’t we?”
“Ye will learn soon enough,” Jack said, grinning.
“Don’t encourage them,” Rae snapped. Jack didn’t make things easy sometimes. He wouldn’t have been surprised if his sons preferred their exuberant uncle to their dour father. Jack always had an easy smile and a teasing comment at the ready, and the boys liked his irreverence. It was up to Rae to be the unpopular one.
“When, Da?” Ailean asked, leaning toward him, green eyes bright. “When can I practice swordplay?”
“When ye prove to me ye know yer letters and numbers competently,” Rae replied with a scowl. “And not before.”
7: THE LAIRD’S REPRIMAND
“THIS IS DAFT.” The mutinous look on Ailean’s face made Kylie’s belly sink. “I don’t want to learn French.”
Holding his gaze firm, Kylie tried to fight the panic welling in her chest. Curse it. After their initial lesson, she’d thought she was making progress, but her charges had lulled her into a false sense of security. It was now Friday morning, and she was a hair’s breadth from losing control of them. “Yer father has instructed me to teach ye, Ailean.”
“I don’t care.”
Heart racing now, she switched her focus to Lyle. “Repeat after me:Je m’appelle Lyle.”
The wee lad burst into fits of giggles. “Jem pepple Lyle,” he sang out. “Jem pepple Lyle.”
This caused his elder brother to hoot as well.
“Lads!” she said, her tone sharp now. “Stop it!”
“Jem pepple! Jem pepple!” the bairns chanted together, ignoring her.
At that moment, the door to the lady’s solar flew open—with such force that it bounced against the stone wall.