Chapter 1
“Daenae tell me they’re missin’ again?” Colby Burns, the Laird of Ferguson, exclaimed incredulously. “This is the third time in the four weeks that they’ve been here!”
He felt the sudden onslaught of a headache greater than anything he’d felt before. People used to tell him that having children was a headache, but he could not imagine how bad it was.
“Aye,” Mirren, the headmistress of Ferguson Castle, replied, a spry woman of the age of forty with small, inquisitive eyes that did not miss a single thing in the house. “We’ve been searchin’ for them everywhere, Daphne and I, but they’re nowhere to be found.”
Daphne, one of Colby’s closest guards and trusted companions, was standing in the corner of the chamber, agreeing with every word. There was no one else Colby trusted more in such matters. If anyone could find them, it was the two of them.
“Have ye tried the attic in the west wing?” Colby suggested nervously. He was already late, and this commotion was highly unnecessary. “That was where we found them last time.”
“Nay,” Mirren shook her head. He could tell from the way she was clenching her teeth that she was worried. Following common sense, Colby himself was concerned. “We need to find them. There is a storm brewin’, and if the girls get drenched, they will catch their death of a cold.”
All Colby could do was grunt at that. It seemed that from the moment they arrived at his castle, his troubles had tripled, and that was the last thing he needed right now.
“Maybe that will keep them in one place,” he mumbled angrily. “In bed.”
“They’re wee lasses,” Mirren reminded him, her voice on the verge of scolding. “And they just lost their faither…,” she added, as if he needed any reminder of that.
The news of his brother’s death had come suddenly and unexpectedly, as was the visit of the man who was bestowed with the duty of bringing the girls to Colby’s home, and informing him that from that moment on, he was responsible for their well-being.
He was their caretaker. The thought was preposterous.
Even now, Colby sometimes felt that it was just a bad dream he would eventually wake up from, instead of a cruel trick of fate.
Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled, promising a terrible storm that was nearing them with alarming speed.
He knew that Mirren was right. They had to find the girls, otherwise they truly might catch their death in the cold rain.
Even though they seemed to be little sprites with a mind for causing mischief, he didn’t want anything to happen to them.
However, what enraged him was the fact that for them, this was nothing but a game. They needed a firm hand to explain to them how life worked, but he was not that person. He had other concerns to focus on.
“Well, ye’d better get out there and keep searchin’ for them,” he instructed Mirren and Daphne, who both nodded. “I need to head over to the Pub. Thomas and Dominic are probably already there, waitin’ for me.”
“All right,” Mirren agreed, with a heavy sigh. “Those lasses… liftin’ the entire house on its feet like this. I swear…” She shook her head disapprovingly and Daphne chuckled.
“Daenae tell me it surprises ye?” she grinned. “The lasses are a spittin’ image of their faither when he was a wee lad. Why, he was a sprite worse than all of us together!”
“Ah… daenae remind me!” Mirren’s eyes widened with the shock of memory, much to Daphne and Colby’s joy. “I was hopin’ that with all of ye grown up, there would be some peace around here.”
“Not likely,” Daphne pointed out something they were all slowly coming to realize. “But it’s refreshin’ to have some young blood around here, to make things… interestin’,” she chuckled.
“All right, all right,” Colby could see that Daphne was teasing Mirren, as always, in a playfully respectful manner.
In turn, Mirren seemed slightly annoyed, but the truth was that they both enjoyed their little banter.
That was why they were always such a well-functioning duo.
“Let’s get down to business and find those lasses before the storm arrives. ”
Both Mirren and Daphne nodded, and a moment later, he was left alone.
Colby inhaled deeply, feeling the burden of current events bear heavily upon his soul.
He had not even had the time to mourn the death of his brother properly.
Life had been one urgent affair after another for him, and he felt that the days were slipping through his fingers, like fine grains of sand, never to return.
In this tangled mess, one thing was painfully clear: he needed a wife.
Not because he himself had any need for one.
Love was for those who valued themselves through the eyes of others, for those who needed the adoration of others to thrive.
He was not like that. As a laird, he was respected and feared.
Whether or not he was loved did not matter.
However, what did matter was the fact that the girls were unruly. They needed someone to watch over them, to take care of them, to instruct them. Lord knew that he had no time for this, nor was he made for such an endeavor. That was a woman’s job. And that was why he needed a wife.
Only… where to find one?
He had already considered several women, but after some reflection, he realized that none of them possessed what he valued the most: a motherly touch.
They were all lovely. They were all tender with him.
They were all intelligent. But they simply lacked that inner characteristic a motherly woman had, something that came naturally and was unforced.
He did not see that in any of them and he knew he had to keep looking.
At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Colby’s eyebrows lifted, and his eyes darted in the direction where the noise came from.
“Aye?” he called out, hopeful that someone had managed to find the girls and that at least one problem could be considered taken care of. However, he was not that fortunate.
The door opened, and Kian, one of Colby’s other trusted and loyal guards peered through the half-open door. He had a suspicious look on his face, and Colby could immediately tell that instead of scratching off one problem from the list, Kian was here to add yet another.
“Oh, what is it now?” Colby frowned, gripping the bridge of his nose with the tips of his fingers.
Kian hesitated to say what he came to say, then he finally came out with it.
“She’s here.”
Veronica pressed her ear to the door, trying to listen in. She could anticipate what the laird would say.
“… again?... pestering… not here… go away…”
She could easily make out the words he was saying behind closed doors. After all, this wasn’t the first time she had come to him. He knew exactly why she was here and what she wanted. Unfortunately for him, Veronica was not used to taking no for an answer.
Determined to get what she wanted, she grabbed the doorknob and opened the door. The laird’s eyes widened in shock. He wasn’t expecting her to barge into the chamber like this. Despite appearances, Veronica did possess manners. She simply chose to ignore them when she really wanted something.
Kian immediately turned to her. “Ye cannae do that—” he started, when the laird lifted his hand, signaling him to be quiet.
“It is all right, Kian,” Laird Ferguson said with a heavy sigh. “Leave us.”
Kian shot her an icy glare to signal that her breach of propriety was not unnoticed. Veronica pretended not to pay attention to him. After all, it was the laird she was here for. She waited for the doors to close, then she turned her attention to the man in front of her.
“So, have ye thought over me business proposal?” she asked, trying to sound grave and solemn, although she could feel her heart beating in the very depths of her throat, making it increasingly difficult to breathe.
Their eyes locked. She could not deny that the Laird of Ferguson was a strikingly handsome man.
His eyes were dark brown, which seemed to have a circular frame of speckled yellow when the sun shone directly at them.
She had noticed it only once when she was close enough to him, but now she was at a safe distance, with his writing table separating them.
His black hair was unruly, as if he had not had any time to comb it this morning.
Instead of looking messy, it gave him a disheveled look, with several ebony curls falling carelessly over his forehead.
“I daenae need to think about it,” he finally replied, sounding weary. “I cannae do business with ye.”
“Why nae?” she demanded to know, although truth be told, she could venture a pretty good guess, as he had hinted at it several times before.
He scoffed heavily, turning away from her to walk over to the window.
He looked burdened by something, weary of the world.
She knew that feeling, although she could not imagine what a laird had to worry about when he had other people to sort out his problems for him.
She, on the other hand, had to sort out her own problems, which was exactly why she was here in the first place.
“I’m nae certain if anyone will buy yer…silly little potions and pomades,” he said, gesturing at her with his hands.
“They arenae silly little potions and pomades!” she defended herself furiously. “I’ll have ye ken that I am a respected healer in me village.”
“I have no doubt ye are,” he said, still with that fatigued tone in his voice. “I’m simply sayin’ that I’m nae certain that the sales will prove this. And I am a businessman first and foremost, I willnae give away money as if it’s nothin’.”
“I’m nae askin’ ye to do that,” she reminded him, endeavoring to keep herself calm and composed, but that was easier said than done.
“Can ye prove that this trade will be profitable for me?” he suddenly asked her.
She thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “I think I can.”