Page 54 of The Texan Duke
The sun’s warmth was beginning to melt the icicles hanging from the branches above them. From time to time a droplet would splash down on her, making her wish she’d taken the time to pull the hood over her head.
The day was not as cold as it had been the past week. If it continued to warm, the roads would be difficult in the next few days.
“Bealadair is a working estate,” she told Connor. “We cut from the forests on even-numbered years. In addition to the Highland cattle herds, we also have sheep. Plus acres and acres of farmland, most of it managed by crofters. We have grouse moors and herds of deer, but the ghillie handles those.”
“And, I would assume,” he said, “that you manage most everything.”
She smiled at him. “I don’t, actually. I do things when the steward doesn’t want to do them. Or when the ghillie refuses to do them. I am, if you like, an intermediary among all the factions at Bealadair—the house and the rest of the estate.”
“I told Glassey to give you a salary,” he said. “Now I’m thinking I need to double it.”
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“‘The workman is worthy of his hire.’”
“Gavin often quoted scripture to me,” she said. “I never expected you to do the same.”
He only smiled at her.
Connor was a comfortable companion. She thought he might ask more questions but he was content to ride in silence.
She liked the way he handled Samson, with a nonchalance that spoke of his ease around horses. He was a good rider, neither allowing the stallion too much head or sawing his mouth with the bit.
You could tell a great deal about a person from how he treated the animals in his care. She knew that only too well.
She’d given orders that Felix, for example, wasn’t allowed access to certain horses in the stable. If at all possible, the stablemaster was also to ensure that Felix was accompanied on his rides by a stableboy who could make note of his actions.
No one, so far, had countermanded her orders. Perhaps they knew that Felix was a cruel person at heart. Or maybe they simply didn’t want to visit the issue. Too, there was also the possibility that they didn’t want to irritate her, for fear that she would give up the duties that she performed around the house.
That was probably the least likely scenario.
Gavin had always treated people with honor, dignity, and respect. That was his initial attitude toward anyone he met. If they subsequently did something that caused him to lose trust in them, then he behaved accordingly.
Connor seemed similar to his uncle in that respect. When he met Tom and Mary McCraight, he was gracious and kind. Especially to Mary, who offered him a raisin scone. Elsbeth truly wanted to warn him, but there was no way to do so. Yet Connor managed to bite through the scone, then said something complimentary to his hostess. She doubted that anyone besides her saw him tuck the rest of the scone into his oversized pocket. He was as kind to Tom, a tall thin man who looked as if he were on the verge of starving. Given that his wife was such a terrible cook, that might be more truth than jest.
Their two little girls stood in the doorway to the kitchen staring at the new duke with wonder on their faces. It was very possible that they’d never seen such a large man in their three-room cottage. Or perhaps it was the fact that Connor was so different, dressed in his coat, hat, and boots that proclaimed him as a stranger to Scotland. Or it might’ve even been his voice, and the accent that was so unlike how the rest of them spoke.
When they left, she finally allowed her smile to burst free.
“I am sorry about that,” she said. “The birds might like that scone.”
He grinned at her. “I’ve had hardtack that was softer,” he admitted.
“Perhaps one of her daughters will end up being a better cook. I should check with their teacher to see if they have any inclination.”
He glanced at her, a question in his eyes.
“We provide school for all the children in the clan,” she said. “Even the girls. If they show an affinity for something early, then we concentrate on that. We’ve had several of our students go on to pursue an even broader education. It was one of Gavin’s projects.”
“What was he like?”
The wind was picking up and it seemed to have a bite to it, almost as if Gavin’s shade dared her to tell the truth.
“Determined,” she said. “I think he annoyed other people because he had a penchant for asking how things were done and why. Of all the things I remember about him, his curiosity was his greatest trait.”
Connor didn’t say anything in response.
“He loved this land.” Was there a way to explain that to Connor? “He felt tied to the land, to the history of it. That’s what he was working on when he died—an entire history of the McCraight Clan.”
