Chapter 6 #2
Spittle flew from his lips as he leaned across the bar. “Let me guess, some farmer’s wife needs help with her brats? Some merchant needs a maid? Ye think that’s better than what I’ve given ye? The roof over yer head? The steady wages?”
“The roof over me head is me own cottage that I pay for meself,” Ava shot back, her own temper fraying. “And the wages are barely enough to survive on, as ye well know.”
“Ungrateful wench!”
“The lass said what’s goin’ to happen. That’s the end of it.”
Noah stood there, Esther’s hand clenched tightly in his, resembling an ancient Highland warrior who had wandered into the wrong century. His expression was as stern as stone, with dark eyes that fixed on Malcolm with a stare powerful enough to make grown men reconsider their life choices.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Every head in the tavern turned.
Ava spun around, her temper blazing. “I told ye I could handle this!”
“Aye, and ye were handlin’ it fine until he started threatenin’ ye.” Noah’s gaze didn’t leave Malcolm’s face. “I didnae like his tone.”
“I can fight me own battles!”
“No one’s sayin’ ye cannae.” Now Noah looked at her, and something in his expression made her breath catch. There was a protective fury there, simmering but burning. “But ye work for me now. And I daenae allow anyone to threaten what’s mine.”
The possessive note in his voice sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine.
“Who the hell are ye?” Malcolm demanded, though his voice had lost some of its bluster.
He might not recognize Noah’s face, but he clearly recognized authority when he saw it.
“Noah MacGregor,” Noah said it simply, without elaboration.
He didn’t need to elaborate.
The color drained from Malcolm’s face so fast that Ava thought he might actually faint. “Me... me Laird. I didnae... I wasnae...”
“Ye were threatenin’ one of me employees,” Noah said, his voice dangerously soft.
The kind of soft that was more terrifying than shouting.
“Tellin’ her she’d never find work again if she left.
Raisin’ yer voice to her in front of a room full of people.
Refusin’ to accept her resignation.” He took a single step forward, and Malcolm actually stumbled backward into the shelves behind the bar.
“Is that how ye treat all yer workers, Malcolm? Or just the ones ye think have no protection?”
“I... nae, me Laird, I would never.”
“Ye just did.” Noah’s hand moved to rest on the dirk at his belt.
“So here’s what’s goin’ to happen. Miss Harris is goin’ to work her shift today, as she generously offered.
Ye’re goin’ to pay her everythin’ ye owe her, in addition to an extra week’s wages for the inconvenience and the public humiliation ye just subjected her to.
And ye’re goin’ to thank her for her three years of service. Understood?”
Malcolm’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish. “Aye… aye, me Laird. Of course. Whatever ye say. I didnae mean any—”
“I daenae care what ye meant. I care what ye did.” Noah’s eyes were like flint, hard and unyielding.
“And if I hear ye’ve been spreadin’ tales about Miss Harris, if I hear ye’ve been bad-mouthin’ her to other establishments, if I hear ye’ve done anythin’ to make her life difficult, ye’ll answer to me personally. Are we clear?”
“Crystal clear, me Laird. Crystal clear.”
“Good.” Noah turned to Ava, his expression softening just a bit. The granite melted enough to reveal the man underneath. “Do ye still want to work yer shift today, lass? Or would ye rather leave now? The choice is yers.”
Ava’s emotions were a tangled mess.
Part of her was furious that he’d interfered; she’d handled difficult men before, and she didn’t need rescuing like some damsel in a ballad.
But another part, a part she didn’t want to acknowledge, was.
.. touched. When was the last time someone had stood up for her like that?
When had anyone ever defended her honor, protected her interests, treated her like she mattered?
Never. The answer was never.
“I’ll leave now,” she said, proud of how steady her voice came out despite the chaos in her chest. “I need to go to the orphanage next.”
“As ye wish.” Noah looked around the now-quiet tavern, his eyes sweeping over the surprised patrons with clear disdain. “Esther and I will be at the market. Come find us when ye’re finished."
“Ye daenae have to wait for me. I can make me own way—”
“We’ll wait.” It wasn’t a question or a suggestion. It was simply a fact, stated with the absolute certainty of a man who’d made up his mind and wouldn’t be swayed.
Then he was gone, leading Esther out of the tavern and leaving Ava standing in a room full of shocked faces and one thoroughly chastened tavern master.
The silence stretched for a heartbeat. Two.
Then the whispers started.
Malcolm cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’ll take care of the rest here.”
“Thank ye.”
As she moved to leave, she could feel dozens of eyes on her. Hear the whispers spreading like wildfire through the crowd.
‘Did ye see that? The Laird himself came for her!’
‘What’s a tavern maid doin’ workin’ for MacGregor?’
‘She must be somethin’ special for him to defend her like that...’
Great.
By tomorrow, the whole village would be talking about how the Laird himself came to her defense. The gossip would spread through the territory like wildfire, becoming more elaborate and scandalous with each retelling.
She should be mortified and worried about her reputation and what people say.
Instead, all she could think about was how Noah had said “what’s mine.”
Like she mattered.
It was a dangerous thought—a foolish one.