Page 43 of Married to a Highland Brute

Her heart was pounding in her chest, wondering if she'd been too straightforward.

“Amelia.”

Nora heard him walk towards her.

Oh, what have I done?

Jonan sat in a chair opposite hers. He was directly across from her, and she could tell his eyes were fixed on her.

“Amelia,” he called again.

She looked up this time, hisgrey eyes were dark. I wonder if he is angry. But not being able to hold his gaze, she looked away.

“Ye are nae wrong,” he said.

“Pardon me?” she asked.

“Ye are nae wrong,” he repeated. “I have not been fair.”

“A man can appreciate a woman who knows her place but speaks her mind.”

“Balance,” Nora nodded.

“Balance,” he nodded and smiled, but grew serious soon after. “I have not always been the best clan chief. Ye see our clan. There is a lot to be done. After the death of me wife, I lost me path. The clan suffered.” He looked away. “Leah suffered. When yer father sent a proposal some months ago, I didnae consider it. But our situations were dire, and so I accepted in the end.”

Nora’s heart clenched at his words. He hadn’t wanted a wife. Is he going to tell me that he had needed only my dowry?

“But I ken that ye didnae grow up with the dream to marry a brutish Highlander.”

Nora looked up at him, almost tentatively. Slowly, the pain in her chest began to dissipate.

“I daenae ken what to do with a wife any more than ye ken what to do with a husband,” he sounded honest and sincere.

“Ye will excuse me moods a bit longer,” Jonan said. His voice dropped. “And ye will nae see much of me. The clan is runnin’ out of food, and there is no hope for the next seasons. These are nae problems for yer head, but ye must understand our predicament, my lady.”

Nora blurted out her question before she could stop herself. “Why is there no hope for the next season?”

“Those matters are nae a woman’s business.”

“They could be. You need a wife—you have a wife,” Nora corrected, flustered. “You have a wife who is schooled. In England, it is common for men to consult with their wives.”

“The problems of our clan are nae faced in the South. A woman would be of nae help.” He responded with persistence in his voice.

Nora crossed her arms, upset. “You have nothing to lose but your pride. Tell me.”

His eyes seemed to relax, and curiosity began to creep in. Jonan sat back in his chair.

“Me farmers are sick. ‘Tis a most strange illness. They daenae get better or heal.”

“What symptoms do they show?”

“Fever and loss of body strength. Our physicians daenae understand it. We have sought medicine from other clans, and yet they are nae better.”

“‘Tis the planting season,” Jonan went on, “and seeds most be sown. The milkmaids are nae much help. They tend to the cows and the other animals well, but they are nae help on the farm. There is no hope for the next season.”

“Why did you use the milkmaids?” she asked curiously.

“They work closest to the farmers,” Jonan explained.

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