The Duke’s Scottish Lass: Brethren of Stone Read online

  Placing his head in his hands he took a deep breath.

  Allister cleared his throat. “Forgive me, my lord but--”

  “Just Stone, Allister,” he said without looking up.

  “Stone,” Allister continued. “The funeral for the lost minors is tomorrow. Are ye going to attend?”

  “Of course,” he answered. “Their loss is my loss.” He shook his head, thinking of all the women who had lost their husbands. Twenty widows. Tomorrow, he’d count the children. “Have we started the school in that province?”

  “Yes,” Allister searched through the pile. “And a teacher has already been hired.”

  “Good,” Stone ran his hand through his hair again. It was overlong, but he’d worry about it later. “I’d also like to give each of the widows a sum for their loss. Help them find their way.”

  “That is not required,” Allister gave him a questioning look.

  He nodded. “I ken, but it’s the right thing tae do. Those men gave their lives to us. If I’m reading these books correctly, the mines make us more than farming, milling, or fishing combined.”

  “It’s true.” Allister paused, clearing his throat. “And I think it’s noble. But I am worried, especially with you being the new lord, that other people will attempt to take advantage. Widows and women claiming to be widows will arrive at your door in droves, looking for a gift.”

  Stone sighed. The farmers had already tired that trick. “I’ll deal with the consequences when they come. I won’t let people’s bad behavior keep me from doing what is right.”

  Allister sat back in his chair, giving him a smile. “That is what will make ye as good a lord as yer father.”

  Stone shrugged, staring at the papers in front of him. “I dunnae ken about that. I dunnae ken about any of this.” There was so much he needed to learn, to understand to do right by these people. His father hadn’t taught him nearly enough. Not that his father was to blame. They had both assumed Stone had years to learn all he needed.

  When Allister didn’t respond, Stone looked up at the man. Allister’s gaze cast to the ceiling. “I could stay for a time if ye’d like. Help ye with the transition.”

  “I couldnae ask that of ye,” Stone replied but he had to admit it was a welcome thought. Someone who was intimately acquainted with the assets and earnings of his father’s, well of his, holdings would be a great asset.

  “I’m offering, ye’re not asking.” Allister replied. “Besides, my house is too empty without Fiona. I do not relish going back.”

  That was something that Stone could understand. “If yer sure I wouldnae be putting ye out then I would love to have ye stay. If, however at any point ye want to go, ye can.”

  Allister shook his head. “It’s unlikely. Perhaps I’ll sell the house so that I might purchase a residence--”

  “Dunnae do that.” Stone replied. “I’ve a beautiful cottage by the water, right here on the property. Ye could stay in yer own quarters. Or, if ye prefer, I have several properties in the village.” He understood Allister’s feelings having just suffered his own loss. But once Allister sold the house, it would be difficult to undo. This didn’t seem the time to make rash decisions. Advice he would note for himself. “Give it time before you let go of the house. Ye dunnae want to do something ye’ll regret.”

  “Thank you, Stone,” Allister said. “Now I will have to face Eliza with the news that we are staying.”

  Stone mentally cringed. Of course Allister staying meant Eliza would stay. While that fact shouldn’t bother him, it did. “She won’t be happy?”

  Allister gave a shake of his head. “Strong willed and high minded like her mother.” A sadness pulled at the corners of Allister’s mouth. “I miss her.”

  “I ken.” Stone did. And he had no idea how to ease this ache.

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  Tammy Andresen lives with her husband and three children just outside of Boston, Massachusetts. She grew up on the Seacoast of Maine, where she spent countless days dreaming up stories in blueberry fields and among the scrub pines that line the coast. Her mother loved to spin a yarn and Tammy filled many hours listening to her mother retell the classics. It was inevitable that at the age of 18, she headed off to Simmons College, where she studied English literature and education. She never left Massachusetts but some of her heart still resides in Maine and her family visits often.

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