Page 70 of The Make-Believe Marriage
Did everybody know of their plans?
Well, it was a small town and Octavian was probably the most exciting outsider to visit this place in ages.
Goodness, he had looked so handsome in his uniform this morning. Dark hair, striking gray eyes as sharp as those of a jungle cat, broad shoulders, and trim, muscled torso. How could any woman ever resist him?
Well, she could have done so if he’d turned out to be a complete ass.
But he wasn’t.
He was intelligent and kind.
His perfection still scared her to death.
The innkeeper’s sister packed a lunch for her and had it ready when her nephew drove the rig around. “I’ll be escorting ye, Mrs. Thorne. Let me help ye up,” the young man called Ewan said. He hopped down and then held out a hand to give her a boost into the seat beside his. “My wife is one of the seamstresses who’ll be helping Miss Granger with yer gowns.”
“Oh, that is lovely.”
“The town is abuzz over ye and the captain. He’s a good man. Been here several times already.”
“Yes, he’s told me how much he loves the area.”
“We’re hoping he finds Greenock meets the navy’s needs. Canno’ lie to ye. We need the work.”
Syd nodded soberly. “It is his wish, too.”
The horse jogged along country roads and beautiful scenery for almost an hour before Ewan turned the rig inland down a small lane. A gray stone farmhouse with smoke wafting from its chimney came into view. The farmhouse looked to be small, perhaps containing only a common room and a small bedroom, but the barn was much larger and appeared to be very well maintained. Mr. Campbell obviously valued the comfort of his sheep more than his own.
A tall, lean man leaning heavily on a cane ambled toward them followed by four big dogs. By the look of them, Syd surmised two were border collies designed to herd sheep and the other two were just big and scary looking, designed to keep strangers such as the Armstrong reivers from stealing said sheep.
However, she doubted these lowland reivers ever ventured this far north to steal from their countrymen. It was quite all right to steal from the English, however. “Ewan, lad. What brings ye out here?” the old man asked the innkeeper’s son, but stared directly at Syd.
“This here is Mrs. Thorne, wife of Captain Octavian Thorne. Do ye remember him, Mr. Campbell?”
“Och, aye. Big fellow.”
Syd smiled. “Yes, that’s him.”
“Mrs. Thorne would like to purchase a few of yer sheep,” Ewan said.
The smile on his sun-leathered face faded as his old eyes regarded her thoughtfully. “Ye’ve made the trip for nothing, Mrs. Thorne. My sheep are not for sale.”
“Not at any price?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Looking to toss money at me?”
“Within reason,” she said with a nod. “You see, my husband and I encountered a clan on our journey north a few days ago, fellow Scotsmen of yours who have fallen upon hard times. They need an industry to support their clan, so when I heard of your fine sheep, I–”
“Ye thought I’d sell some to ye for those lowland reivers?” He huffed in disgust. “So they sent a woman, a Sassenach, at that, to do their bidding?”
Syd tried not to bridle at the term commonly used to describe the English.Sassenach.Octavian had told her what it meant when Angus Armstrong had used the word to describe her. It was usually spoken in a dismissive tone that revealed it was not a compliment. Indeed, there was a long history of hatred for the English among the Scots, and perhaps she ought to have considered this fact before undertaking the journey to the Campbell farm.
However, she maintained her friendly smile rather than resort to usual form and toss back a cutting remark. The crotchety, old man was looking for any reason to kick her off his farm and she was not about to give him one.
Octavian would have been proud of her poise.
She was showing remarkable restraint. “They did not send me, Mr. Campbell,” she patiently explained. “I expect they would be highly insulted if they knew what I was doing.”
“Then why are ye doing it?”
