The Duke’s Scottish Lass_Brethren of Stone Read online

  He squared his shoulders and his neck made a cracking noise, causing several women to look fearfully at him. Utterly ridiculous. He knew that his scowling façade and his penchant for silence frightened some, as had his father’s, but they’d never been anything but responsible overlords. They were making these lands prosperous for all who lived here.

  His parents died while attempting to rescue miners from a collapsed mine shaft. If those actions didn’t speak to the kindness in their hearts, Stone didn’t know what else could. He supposed it did in its own way. It was the reason so many now stood at their funeral. Though his more cynical side told him it was their twisted desire to ogle his family and hunt for any misstep that might confirm in their minds that they were devils.

  He could make out the occasional word, though he kept his eyes on the large stone that marked his parents’ grave. His five brothers stood in a line by birth order on his right side. And his sister, Arianna, only five years old, held his hand on the left.

  It was her little fingers tugging on his that finally cast his gaze down, instead of forward. “Stone,” she whispered.

  “Aye, my little lamb?” his heart constricted every time he looked into those luminous blue eyes. What she had lost was so much more painful than what had been taken from him. He’d had their parents for the first twenty-four years of his life. But a little girl should grow up with her mother.

  “When are Mama and Papa coming home?”

  She’d asked the same question several times and he’d given her his best answer each and every time. “They won’t come home, I am afraid. But it doesn’t mean that they won’t keep loving ye.”

  Her eyes swelled with tears and, thoughtless to the onlookers, he swung her up into his arms. He heard a gasp from someone in the crowd and his eyes narrowed, searching for the offender? Did they expect him to eat his own sister alive? Bloody hell, they thought him the devil but it was them feeding off his grief now. These people seemed to garner joy from hearsay and rumors about his family rather than acknowledge their accomplishments and care.

  And all these people had attended the wake. Ate his food and drank his wine. It only made them bolder in their derision.

  This was one of the reasons he wished he didn’t have to take his father’s title. To be earl of the realm, responsible for this ungrateful lot. It made his blood boil.

  Handing Arianna to his brother, Blair, he stepped up to the graves and carefully laid both dirt and salt on each. Standing once again, he returned to his siblings and took Arianna’s hand as they left the Kirkyard.

  He didn’t look back at the crowd, his own disgust making his shoulders hard, his body tense. He longed for the solitude of his home, to close the doors and find solace in quiet grief.

  But as they walked to the gates, a carriage sat just outside.

  “Who goes there?” His voice boomed, sadness and irritation making it sharp. He heard several titters from behind him in the crowd that followed.

  A man stepped out of the carriage. He was well dressed and graceful, his dark hair streaked with silver, his posture upright. “My lord,” his voice, always pleasant to the ear, soothed Stone now. It was his father’s solicitor, though Stone supposed that Allister McLaren was now his solicitor.

  “Good to see ye,” Stone’s tone changed instantly, softened, mellowed. This man had been a friend to his family since he was a child. Stone walked the rest of the way up the drive, the procession behind him continuing toward the village just beyond.

  “I apologize for not arriving in time for the burial. We’ve had our own circumstances to tend.” Allister’s face pinched in a way that Stone had never seen.

  “Circumstances?” he asked. He knew they must be serious for Allister to have not been here. He’d long been a faithful friend.

  Allister’s brow drew together. “I have lost my wife, I am afraid.” Pain hunched the man’s shoulders.

  “I am verra sorry fer yer loss.” Stone clapped the man on the shoulder.

  Allister shook his head. “Thank ye, son. It’s been difficult fer both of us.”

  Stone noted that Allister said us. He’d used we before.

  A motion at the door of the carriage, caught his eye and he snapped his gaze up, as Allister reached his hand out.

  He first noted her fingers, creamy skin and long, tapered digits gently grasped Allister’s. He let his eyes wander up the slender-sleeved arm to the delicate curve of her shoulder and thin column of her neck. Tendrils of blonde hair were loosely pulled away from her face. And what a face. Delicate petal-pink lips were set off by the ivory of her skin. Her pert little nose wrinkled ever so slightly as his gaze snapped to her large brown eyes.

  “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Eliza.” Allister gestured toward her as she stepped from the carriage.

  She looked back at him and her eyes narrowed as her lips pressed together. He was used to the reaction. “A pleasure,” she replied, her tone devoid of emotion.

  “Eliza, this is Lord Alban.” Allister tucked his daughter’s hand into his elbow.

  Stone gave a nod of acknowledgement. “The pleasure is mine,” he said even as her eyes cast away from his.

  When he was younger, he’d stared at his reflection in the loche trying to understand why people responded so adversely to him. He wasn’t hideous and he prided himself on being fair, responsible, even level-headed. He rarely lost his temper.

  His mother had told him that he had a look of hardness. She didn’t mean it with any malice. She said his father had the same look and it made people wary, afraid. She’d held him close and told him that once people got to know him, they’d see the real man underneath. Just like she had with his father.

  He loved his mother dearly, but that was complete horse shit.

  * * *

  Eliza took a steadying breath. How did one greet the devil?

  Very carefully, she answered herself.

  He looked exactly as she imagined. Like Aries, the god of war, might have. He was a massive man, with giant shoulders and bugling muscles. His face was set in hard, craggy lines that spoke of power and determination. The severe scowl that turned down his lips and pulled at his brow were almost frightening. The only features that softened him at all were his penetrating blue eyes and full curve of his mouth.

  She looked away, not able to stare at them any longer and found that her stomach tingled with nerves. There was something unsettling about him. Most likely his devilish ways.

  Though her father swore he was a good man, she couldn’t help but lend some credence to the multitude of rumors that swirled about this family. Or more particularly, the new Lord Alban.

  They said he was a cruel, hard man. That he would work his tenants to death. He allowed no grievances to be brought before him. He never allowed his colliers freedom from their servitude to him. It made her blood boil to think of such injustices. She suspected the rumor she’d heard in the village that claimed he would take the families’ firstborns to be an exaggeration but now that she’d seen the man, well, she wouldn’t put it past him.

  The former Lord Alban was her father’s single largest client, and his support of her father gave them a life that was beyond comfort, a fact that her father reminded her of as they travelled to this meeting. “You will not be rude, young lady,” had been his exact words.

  She normally wouldn’t have needed such a reminder but she’d resented having to travel for business so soon after her mother’s death. It had been a three-day journey to come from their home in Perth to Lord Alban’s highland estate in Glencoe.

  As if that weren’t enough, the closer they got to their destination, the more people talked of the notorious earl. He was dark, dreary, and dreadful. And while his father had made this land prosperous, they were certain the son would cast them into ruin.

  “Did ye see his glower? A more dour man never walked the earth,” one shopkeeper had said.

  “He’s spoiled and mean,” another had added. “I heard that he refused to
let the farmers air their grievances when they were shorted money by the mills.” The older woman leaned closer. “Kept the money for himself, I’d wager.”

  The other woman had humphed. “I wouldn’t doubt it. I heard that he didn’t even have a proper wake. Removed the mourners from his home. Just didn’t want to feed ‘em likely as not. A disgrace.”

  Eliza had gasped into her glove. This was the man she had left mourning to attend? The rumors had only grown worse the closer they had gotten until she was near livid on behalf of the people here.

  “Let’s all make ourselves more comfortable inside.” Lord Alban pointed through the open gate to the large double doors beyond. “Ye must be tired after yer journey and it has been a trying day for us.”

  “My mum and da are never coming back.” A little girl spoke next to Lord Alban and, for the first time, Eliza looked beyond him to the others around him.

  She swallowed hard. The grief on their faces was far more palpable than Lord Alban’s and some of the younger boys wiped tears from their eyes still.

  A few were dark like Lord Alban, but some were fair and she wondered if they were all his siblings or relations of another kind. They clearly didn’t live in the village or they would have travelled on with the rest of the mourners.

  Lord Alban reached down and picked up the girl, who wrapped her arms and legs about him, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “I ken, lamb,” his voice was completely different, near soothing. Her insides fluttered again and she cocked her head to the side. Surely it wasn’t fear motivating her feelings now.

  A lump formed in Eliza’s throat, her empathy for the child making it difficult to hold back tears. The girl looked like a little angel. Her long blonde hair, cascaded down the dark rough skin of his arm. “Who will take care of me?” The little girl asked.

  “I will, of course.” He soothed. Then his eyes focused back on her and her father. She nearly jumped as their piecing depths collided with hers. “Shall we?”

  He didn’t wait for a response before he strode past them, still holding the child. Eliza attempted to not huff her breath. How rude. She knew she should make allowances because he was fresh into mourning but it was difficult after all she’d heard. And she mustn’t forget, no matter how sweet he had just appeared, she was dealing with the devil.

  Chapter One

  Stone led the way into the house, and into a sitting room where refreshments had already been laid out.

  He was mildly amazed they still had food to share. The mourners having nearly eaten them out of house and home.

  Not bothering with the food, he crossed to the decanter of whisky that sat on its own table. Reaching for a glass, he poured himself a large snifter and tossed the drink back in a single gulp. As he turned he saw Allister’s daughter give him a look of disapproval.

  Let the little chit judge. He cared not. Had she buried both of the parents today? Did she find herself to be head of a family and of the surrounding land? Thousands of people depending on her for their very survival?

  Damnation, he normally didn’t let people bother him so. It was surely the emotion of the day.

  Setting the glass back down, waved his hand and signaled for his siblings to line up. “Eliza,” as he said her name, she nearly jumped. Another ripple of irritation passed through him. “I’d like to introduce you to my siblings. This is Blair,” he pointed to his next oldest brother, “William. The twins are Matthew and Roderick. And then our little sister, Arianna.” He poured himself another glass of whisky. “On behalf of our family, we’d like to extend our condolences for your loss.”

  Eliza gave a stiff nod. “And to ye as well.”

  “If ye’ll forgive us for dispensing with anymore formalities, I think we’d all like to eat.” He gestured toward the food. “Please feel free to join us.”

  “Thank ye,” she said but he ignored it, tipping his glass to his lips.

  He heard her huff then. A little sound of disapproval. He dropped his glass back down and glared at her. It had been one of the worst days of his life and he’d endured enough judgment already. He wouldn’t tolerate it in his own home. But as she opened his mouth to speak, Allister stepped forward.

  “Thank ye fer yer kindness.” He gave a pointed look back at his daughter. “Refreshments sound lovely.”

  Both Allister and his daughter followed his siblings to the buffet of food. As the whisky blazed a trail to his stomach, he couldn’t help but note that his new guest was lovely. Granted she was no better than any of those other letches who had tittered behind their hands at his parent’s funeral but she was stunning.

  He needed solitude. Perhaps a good ride along the sea path, or a swim in the loche. It was still early in the year, but the cold water might shock him back to normalcy. He didn’t involve himself with pretty chits who gave him disapproving glares. His mind was surely muddled.

  He tossed himself into a chair and covered his face with his arm. With Allister here, perhaps the other man could help him with some of the duties so that he might take some time and grieve, perhaps learn what his new place in this world was.

  But for now, he needed some solitude. “Allister, thank ye again for comin’. We can talk more tomorrow, but if ye’ll excuse me.” He didn’t bother with an explanation. He assumed it was understood. He simply rose and left.

  * * *

  Eliza watched him go and tried to refrain from huffing again. Her father wouldn’t approve. The man didn’t seem to have a soft bone in his body. I guess Stone Alban was truly a fitting name. You would think he would have stayed to entertain his guests.

  She had near crossed the country, despite being in mourning, to attend him. She supposed, she hadn’t been required to come. But with her mother gone, she couldn’t see herself staying in that house. Her mother had passed a month ago and it still didn’t feel the same as it had before. It used to be her home.

  Much had changed in the past month. She’d changed. She knew things about the world she wished she didn’t, how unjust it could be, how unfair.

  And she knew what it meant to be without her mother. It still took her breath away and that grief made her darker than she’d been before.

  She nibbled at the food on her plate but her legs were restless after hours in the carriage. Finally, she turned to her father. “Is it all right if I take a walk?” Even from this room, she could see hints of the river the house was built upon.

  “Of course,” her father nodded. “Please stay within sight of the house.”

  She stepped outside and the salty air hit her nostrils once again. The house sat perched at the mouth of a river that led to the sea. Lord Alban had been blessed in more ways than one, she noted. Rich fertile land, was both good for farming and yielded coal. The sea surely provided ample food as well. No wonder the Alban’s were so successful.

  She followed a path to the water and, at the edge of the cliff, looked down at the view of the water. It was breathtaking. But a movement to her left caught her attention. The land continued to rise and on top of a crest stood a Kirkyard. Even from this distance, she recognized the outline of Lord Alban standing by a large stone. He looked like a stone himself, rising out of the earth.

  Without meaning to, she found herself walking toward him.

  As she grew closer, she could see his head bowed, his hands clasped in front of him. She had a sudden pang of regret about the way she’d judged his behavior today. He’d buried his parents today. That entitled anyone to be brisk.

  Not that it changed the rumors swirling about him. But all the same, today, at least, he deserved some measure of sympathy.

  As she drew closer, he didn’t raise his head but his voice called sharply. “What do ye want?”

  She drew in a long breath. Had she just been feeling sympathy for this man? “I came to offer my condolences.”

  He looked up to her then, his gaze penetrating into hers until she did, in fact, cease moving toward him. “Thank ye. If ye don’t mind, I’d prefer to be alone.”<
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  She gave a curt shake of her head and turned to go. But then, she moved back to face him. “I’ll only keep ye a moment. But the day I buried my mother, I didn’t speak for the entire day, I can’t quite recollect, but I don’t think I spoke for several after.” She cleared her throat, these next words a little difficult. “I admire your strength.”

  Surprise lit his face, making it less heavy, handsome even. “Thank ye.”

  With a parting nod, she returned the way she had come.

  Stone watched Miss McLaren walk away, his teeth clenching together. Mostly because he didn’t want to like that woman. He’d seen the way she’d looked at him. Those looks had haunted his dreams as a child and, now that he was a man, he wouldn’t be prisoner to them any longer. Stone froze out any one who treated him with disdain.

  He’d do well to remember the judgement he’d seen in her eyes when they’d first met his. She was beautiful, it couldn’t be denied, and her attempt at kindness might lull him into letting his guard down.

  He looked back at the stone marking his parent’s resting place. How could this have happened? Technically speaking, he knew what had happened. The collapse had begun in one of the mines. Men were trapped and his father had rushed to the mines to help clear the opening. His mother had been awaiting his father when a second collapse had begun. She’d rushed in to save him or warn him. They’d never know.

  Stone swallowed down the lump rising in his throat. He was the keeper of the land, the one everyone was depending on. He wouldn’t cry now or ever.

  Turning away, he began back down the hill. Losing both his parents meant that he had no one to guide him now. Standing here wallowing wouldn’t help. It was best that he begin work.

  He spent most of the afternoon with Allister, going through books and reviewing projects his father had commissioned. Stone’s head ached by the time dinner approached. He only now realized that he hadn’t eaten any of the buffet that had been laid out.