Chapter 17
“Did ye hear that, Paisley?”
Findlay Armstrong looked up from his cards—a losing hand, as usual—to see his wife hurrying toward him with unusual energy in her step.
The tavern was half-empty at this hour, just a few desperate souls like himself trying to win back what they’d already lost.
“Hear what?” he muttered, tossing his cards down in disgust. Another loss. Another debt.
“About our darlin’ daughter.” Paisley’s gray eyes—so like Piper’s, though far colder—gleamed with something that made Findlay sit up straighter. “Seems she’s landed herself quite the position.”
“What are ye talkin’ about? Last we heard, she was bein’ taken away by those men to pay our debt.”
“Aye, well.” Paisley slid into the seat across from him, lowering her voice. “Seems there was some sort of raid on that operation. The whole thing got shut down. And our Piper? She got herself rescued by none other than Laird McMahon himself.”
Findlay’s eyebrows rose. “McMahon? That’s—”
“One of the wealthiest clans in the Highlands, aye.” Paisley’s smile was sharp.
“And accordin’ to Mrs. MacLeish, who heard it from her cousin who works in the McMahon kitchens, our daughter is now employed there as the governess to the Laird’s own children.
Can ye imagine? Our Piper, livin’ in a castle, earnin’ a proper wage. ”
“A wage,” Findlay repeated slowly, understanding dawning. “Paisley, are ye thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”
“I’m thinkin’ that we raised that girl for twenty-four years.
Fed her, clothed her, gave her a roof over her head.
And now she’s got herself a fine position with a wealthy laird, and we’re still here, scratchin’ by, drownin’ in debt.
” Paisley leaned forward. “Seems to me, she owes us. Seems to me, it’s time our daughter started supportin’ her poor parents in their time of need. ”
Findlay felt a grin spreading across his face, the first genuine smile he’d had in weeks. “Ye’re right. She does owe us. We’re her parents, after all. It’s her duty to help us.”
“Exactly.” Paisley sat back, looking pleased with herself. “So here’s what we’re goin’ to do. We’re goin’ to pay a visit to Castle McMahon. We’re goin’ to have a nice chat with our dear daughter. And we’re goin’ to make sure she understands that family takes care of family.”
“And if she refuses?”
“Then we’ll remind her what happens when she defies us.” Paisley’s expression hardened. “One way or another, that girl is goin’ to give us what we’re owed. Even if we have to shame her in front of her fancy laird to get it.”
Findlay raised his cup in a mock toast. “To family reunions.”
“To finally gettin’ what’s ours,” Paisley corrected, clinking her cup against his.