Highland Inheritance (Highlands Ever After Book 2) Page 2

  The woman dismissed the man with a sharp rebuke before sighing, looking Iona up and down again. “I dinna believe ye need to sleep on the floor,” she decided. “Besides that, I am loath to leave ye out in the open.”

  Iona frowned. “Why is that?”

  To her surprise, the woman snorted with barely suppressed laughter. “Ye canna mean it.”

  She did, she meant it very much, but it seemed a waste of time trying to make the woman understand. “I appreciate your generosity,” she settled on replying. “Where might I sleep, then?”

  “There is a small chamber on the second floor. I will show ye to it.” Just like that, the woman was off, already halfway up the creaking staircase before Iona gathered her wits and made haste to follow. “If ye would be needing a bath to wash off the dust of the road, that will be extra.”

  “I suppose I can wait until tomorrow,” Iona decided. While there was still a small bit of gold in the drawstring purse she wore tied to her girdle, she would rather have saved what she could. There would be more than enough for her to live comfortably upon once the details of her uncle’s estate were settled, and once Tyra had seen to matters on the island.

  “Just as well. There are hardly enough hands to fetch and carry the water up to the tub,” the woman explained as she opened the door. The chamber was indeed small, narrow and shallow. There was a small pallet laid out in one corner. No fire could be lit, as there was no place in which to light one. At least the room was dry and clean, and that along with the warmth from the surrounding rooms would be enough to keep her comfortable for the night. Indeed, she had seen worse.

  “Many thanks to ye,” Iona murmured with a smile as she pressed a coin into the woman’s hand. “I should be off at dawn, or as early as I can manage. Do ye know of any young men in the village who might see fit to accompany me to my destination on the morrow? I’m afraid I am unfamiliar with the territory and would be hopelessly lost.”

  “Where is it ye wish to go?” Dreadfully busy only moments before, it seemed the inn’s proprietress was suddenly keenly interested and with nowhere to hurry to. Perhaps this was a bit of idle gossip, or something to distract the woman from her daily toil.

  “I have inherited my uncle’s property, which is where I mean to make my home. His name was Malcolm Douglas.”

  “Douglas, is it?” It was the strangest thing. Her eyes took on a strange glow, just as the eyes of the man who’d offered Iona his services. “So ye are the niece who is coming to live on the estate.”

  “I had not imagined anyone would be aware of me,” Iona admitted, suddenly shy and a bit nervous. She was unaccustomed to others being aware of her concerns, and especially strangers. The notion of anyone knowing or caring about what she did was perfectly foreign.

  “Dinna misunderstand me,” the woman implored with what could pass for a smile. “Tis merely that the property has sat so long untended. Once word got around that it would no longer be so…”

  “I understand,” Iona assured her, though this was not strictly the truth. She did not understand why anyone would care one way or another. Perhaps she had been on her own for too long, caring only about her own needs and interests. She had forgotten what it meant to be of the world, in the world.

  “I might find someone for ye on the morrow,” the woman assured her before handing over the candle she held in one hand. “Will ye be requiring supper?”

  Iona’s stomach fairly sang in response to the mere thought, yet she had no choice but to refuse in the face of fatigue and a dwindling amount of gold. “Thank ye, but no. Tis sleep I am most requiring.”

  “Get what of it ye can,” she chuckled knowingly, looking down at the floor with a rueful expression. “It does not normally quiet down until later in the evening.”

  The woman did not exaggerate. It seemed hours before the laughter coming from the lower floor quieted. Iona laid in wait, staring at the ceiling, willing herself to ignore the unpleasant odors and nighttime noises coming from other rooms. Snoring, muttering in sleep, flatulence. She’d grown accustomed to the sounds coming from the guides upon whom she had relied to get her this far.

  How very far from this time those days seemed. How she had nearly despaired in the depths of her heart over the course of her long journey. Never would she have allowed anyone to know of her fears, especially not a stranger. She had nursed these fears alone, staring up at the night sky as she now examined the ceiling.

  This time tomorrow, she would be in her home. Hers alone. All of this strain and worry would finally come to an end.

  And once her closest and only friend Tyra arrived, perhaps in another fortnight—Iona hoped it was no longer than that—she might be able to commence with some sort of normal existence. It had already been too long since she’d enjoyed the quiet pleasures of home and hearth, and she wanted nothing more than to return to such simplicity at the earliest possible opportunity.

  Perhaps her old friend was correct. Perhaps Tyra spoke truthfully when she’d laughingly accused Iona of being far too set in her ways for one so young. Truly, Iona had never much cared for people on the whole. They had done nothing but let her down time and again, promising things they could not possibly deliver.

  Such as when her father died. When men and women who’d been friends of the family as long as Iona could remember offered their assistance, promising anything she needed. Anything at all. No request was too large or inconvenient.

  How quickly those friends had disappeared. How soon she had been left alone.

  The reasonable, rational part of her expected nothing less. Of course, there was no choice but for others to go on about their lives. They could not keep her at the forefront of their thoughts indefinitely, nor did she expect them to. It was only reasonable for those friends of her father to move along, to imagine her taken care of or to at least tell themselves she was to ease any guilt they might feel.

  Yes, that was the way of it. She was far too logical a person to hold that against them.

  Though she did not have to trust them ever again. Not them, not anyone else. She had learned from a tender age to rely only on herself, and she was determined to abide by this for the rest of her life. Never again would she be at the mercy of another.

  Finally, fatigue had its way, and she was able to close her eyes and fall into a deep slumber. Tomorrow would mark the end of her journey.

  And the beginning of the rest of her life as an independent woman.

  3

  “Ye ought to know better than this.” Colin backed his old friend, Kirk McGinnis, into the wall on which the man had scrawled inflammatory words against the crown. Words which, in all honesty, Colin had not imagined the man using or even being able to spell.

  Perhaps he’d had help. In fact, Colin would have bet money that he had. It seemed situations such as this had a way of bringing people together. Even the most unlikely pairings suddenly became likely in the face of a larger foe.

  “Do ye truly care so little for your kinfolk?” Kirk demanded. “Ye were just as firm against the English as any of us.”

  “Whether I am for or against the English is not the matter at hand,” Colin muttered. Why did they insist upon throwing this in his face? “When a man has a job to do, he must do it.”

  Kirk merely scoffed at this, tossing his head. “Ye might use all the pretty words ye know, Colin Ramsey, but the result is the same.”

  Months of frustration bubbled to the surface, and before he knew it, Colin shoved man against the cold stone with both hands, one upon each shoulder. It was not often that he resorted to physical violence, but there were times when violence was all a man had to use. He would rather be accused of going too far than be accused by the English of much worse.

  “Would ye like them to return to the village? The magistrate and his men? Do ye believe they would let ye off with a warning? I assure ye, they would not. Ye would swing from the nearest tree for this, nothing less. What would your Cairstine do if that were the case? What of the
bairn she only just bore ye? How do ye believe they would fare, living without a roof over their heads or food for their bellies? How long do ye think it would take for them to succumb?”

  For the first time, grim understanding touched Kirk’s narrowed eyes. Eyes which widened upon considering the future Colin described.

  Colin could only nod, disgusted. “And if ye believe I exaggerate, ye think wrong. Ye know as well as I they would take no small bit of delight, the English, knowing they’d ruined ye and your family. They would show no mercy. This is why I canna have ye behaving this way. I must maintain at least some semblance of order in this village. And dinna think for a moment that I would shrink away from locking ye in a cell with dozens of other men precisely for this sort of activity. Bairn or no bairn.”

  He pushed away from the man then, his disgust and frustration enough that he could nearly taste them in the back of his throat. Was he supposed to do when it seemed no one understood what was truly at stake?

  It did seem as though Kirk came to a slight understanding, at least, which Colin supposed was a start. “I—I had not considered it.”

  “This does not surprise me,” Colin growled. “I would be much obliged if ye might speak with others as I have spoken to ye. It could be that they have not considered this, either. Remember, I canna be of help to ye should the English return. There is nothing I can do against them. It pains me to say it, but ‘tis true just the same.”

  “I ken your meaning,” Kirk assured him. “Though I dinna much like it.”

  Colin surprised both of them by bursting out in helpless laughter. He laughed until his sides ached, until tears sprang to his eyes. Once he’d finally gotten hold of himself, he asked, “Do ye believe I do, then? Is that what ye think of me? Ye have no notion of how much I would like to do as ye do. I canna. It pains me even to admit this to ye, but ‘tis better than saying nothing at all. Certainly, my methods have done little good until now.”

  “I will do what I can,” Kirk assured him, which Colin supposed would have to be enough for the time being. He thanked him, warning him once again to cease this behavior and to wash away what he’d scrawled on the stones. Once he was fairly certain his orders would be carried out, he continued on his way through the village.

  There was no mistaking the sometimes openly hostile looks which he received from those he would have considered friends. He was careful to greet them warmly, to pretend as if he did not understand the meaning behind their cold looks, their scowls. They’d branded him a traitor, clearly enough. Not for the first time did he consider giving up, throwing up his hands and declaring it no longer worth his time or effort to save the lives of people who clearly had no desire to be saved. Perhaps they did not deserve his care. Never had he known a group of people so determined to act against their own interests.

  Raised voices further down the main road which crossed through the heart of the village caught his attention. Normally, he would not have hastened to find the cause of what sounded like plain anger, but one of the voices was female. And from the sound of it, the lass in possession of that voice was beyond the point of fury.

  “We decided upon a sum yesterday evening, and I paid your sum.” The lass in question stood no higher than the chest of the man at whom she shouted, yet there was something about the way she held her head, the way she positioned her fists on her hips, that seemed to add to her size. She was a towering figure once her feathers were fully ruffled.

  “Ye paid the sum gave ye to house yer beast for the evening. Tis now well past sunrise, and as such ye will be paying for extra time.” Old Alec McAdams spat on the ground near the lass’s feet, plainly intending to drive her back in disgust or shock.

  He had underestimated this lass, for she held her ground firmly without so much as looking down at the great pile of phlegm. “You said nothing of that when we came to our agreement, and I find it scandalous that you would go so far as to prey upon a stranger in such a manner. Have you no shame?”

  “Ye are a fine one to speak of shame!” Alec chortled. “Causing a scene in the middle of the village, shouting so. Tis yourself who might do well to consider your actions.”

  When the lass’s hand shot out as if she intended to slap her opponent, Colin knew he could no longer stand idly by and watch the situation unfold. His hand shot out, catching the lass’s wrist at just the right moment. If he had waited any longer, she would have struck the man, and there would have been a much greater problem at hand.

  As it was, there was trouble enough. The lass glared up at him, her eyes spitting fire. “Remove your hand from my wrist,” she warned, snarling. “Do not touch me.” She did not possess the brogue of a highland lass. In fact, he might have mistaken her for an Englishwoman if she’d not spent the night in the village. No Englishwoman would dare risk her safety in such a manner.

  Though it appeared this lass was alone, which was still a considerable risk. Who was she? What brought her there?

  “I shall release ye once ye promise to behave yourself,” Colin assured her with a smile. He did not wish to make an enemy of the woman, no matter who she was. “I canna have arguments going on so openly, especially when they involve someone who believes they’ve been wronged resorting to violence.”

  “He is attempting to steal from me,” the lass growled through clenched teeth. Her body trembled with the force of her rage—indeed, Colin could feel it, the way she nearly vibrated.

  Colin’s gaze swung around to Alec, who at least had the decency to look embarrassed. “Rules are rules,” he shrugged when Colin raised his brows in silent question.

  “I believe ye might be able to bend the rules a bit, just this once,” Colin suggested, his tone firm. “If ye did not explain to the lass clearly how ye planned to charge for your services, ye have no means of holding her to an agreement. Naturally, she would assume that whatever ye charged was the full charge for sheltering her horse.”

  “A man’s got to earn a living,” Alec reminded him, sullen.

  “Ye need not remind me of this,” Colin assured him. “Now that we are possessed of better understanding, ye will release the horse to its owner, will ye not?”

  Alec merely spat upon the ground again, shooting a glare at the still enraged woman before turning around and going back into the stables, where the horses of many a traveler had spent the night.

  It was not until then that Colin noticed he still held the slender wrist of the equally slender woman before him. “Forgive me,” he murmured, dropping her wrist as though it scalded him. “I am too well acquainted with Alec to believe he would take any such treatment lightly. I would rather not have been called upon to arrest ye for striking him, no matter how he might have deserved it.”

  The lass lifted her chin, just as imperious as a duchess. This behavior contrasted sharply with her tattered clothing, the dirt beneath her nails. Her fair hair was limp and dull, though he suspected it might shine like gold under the right circumstances. “I thank you for coming to my aid,” she finally muttered, though in a grudging sort of way. As if she did not wish to give him credit for having gotten her out of a tight situation.

  “Tis no more than my duty,” he nodded. “I am Colin Ramsey, sheriff of this region. I dinna believe I have ever made your acquaintance.”

  Rather than taking the opportunity to introduce herself, as a person would normally do in this situation, the lass shrugged. “No, I would not imagine you have. Thank you again.”

  He watched in surprise as she turned away, squaring her shoulders as if she expected another fight upon entering the stables to fetch her horse. He could not help but ask, “Where is it ye would intend to go? Are ye traveling alone?”

  “Why do you wish to know?” she asked, barely turning her head to look at him over her shoulder.

  For a moment, he gaped at her in surprise. Who was she to take such a tone with him? The lass had ideas above her station if she thought herself superior to him. “Because it seems unsafe for a lass to be traveling alo
ne, which is not something I would imagine having to explain to anyone with a slight bit of intelligence. Ye seemed to me to be an intelligent sort, but perhaps I was mistaken.”

  “You were not mistaken,” she assured him, tossing her head. He knew not whether he wished to laugh or to curse her for her insolence. “I have not traveled entirely alone. But my guide left me before reaching the village, and I only need a new guide to take me a bit further.”

  “How far would that be?”

  She turned fully, fists upon her hips once again. Why was she so keen on fighting a man who wished only to help her? “What interest is it of yours? You might be sheriff, Colin Ramsey, but you are not my master. I do not need to obtain permission to reach my own home.”

  “So ye make your home here? How is it ye do, yet I have never met ye?”

  “Do you ever cease asking questions?” she spat. “I would like to be on my way.”

  “Alone?”

  “With a guide, if I am able to obtain one.” She looked him up and down, one eyebrow lifting until it nearly touched her hairline, or seemed to. “Do you believe yourself worthy of the task?”

  Truly, she wished to make an enemy of him. That could be the only explanation for her attitude, for the flippant manner in which she regarded him. “I know my way around the territory. I have to.”

  “Then are you familiar with the estate once owned by Malcolm Douglas?”

  Colin folded his arms, looking the lass up and down with new understanding. So this was the niece of Malcolm Douglas, the man’s sole heir. “Ye have been expected, lass.”

  “I have a name,” she informed him, drawing herself up to her full height. “You might call me Iona.”