Page 84 of Ghost of the Ton

“I think young Brodie here knows what I get up to most nights. Dinnae ye?” she said. “Why are ye here, lad?”

The young man blushed. “M-Master Hamish said that I was to visit Lady MacLennan to offer my services—he said it was only right, seein’ as she’d been kind enough to treat my arm. But he said nothing about her being taught a lesson.” He glanced about the parlor, his gaze settling on the half-empty shelves and the remnants of the smashed chair in the corner. “What happened?”

“A-an accident, nothing more,” Mia said.

“Master Hamish said it was deliberate,” Maisie said. “But there’s no need for ye to bother. He’ll soon find out who’s to blame, and will bring them to justice. He disnae tolerate such unkindness.”

Mia suppressed a snort and shook her head. “Not even against—” She broke off as Maisie took her hand.

“Surely ye dinnae think Master Hamish would tolerate any unkind treatment of ye?”

When Mia didn’t respond, Maisie’s expression darkened.

“Do ye think he had something to do with this?”

“Why?” Mia said. “Did he say anything to you?”

“No, lass,” Rory said, “other than ye needed help, and though he wanted to give it, ye were too unhappy to accept his help. He said ye needed a friend—a friend that ye could trust.” He took her other hand. “Lass, surely ye didnae think Master Hamish had anything to do with what happened, or”—he glanced at Maisie—“that ye cannae trust him? He’s a good man.”

“Aye, that he is,” Maisie said.

“And kind,” Brodie added. “The best master, or so my da used to say—kinder and fairer than the old laird. And he’d never do anything to hurt ye, ma’am.”

“Then who?” Mia said.

Maisie set her basket on the table and pulled out several jars and bottles. “Will these replace what was broken?”

Mia nodded. “Yes, thank you, but I’ll need to collect the herbs again, and what with winter coming, they’ll be scarce. I count myself fortunate that the calendula salve was untouched, at least, as there won’t be any more flowers until the spring, by which time I’ll be gone.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Maisie said, setting her basket aside. “Ye dinnae suppose it was Iona? Hamish once told me that she smashed six wine bottles when he told her she was too young to drink it. She said that if she couldn’t have it, then neither could he.”

“No,” Mia said. “Iona may be willful, and she dislikes me, but I don’t think she’d do anything like this. She might smash a jar or two in front of me, or in front of Hamish, to gain his attention, but I can’t see her behaving in such an underhand manner as to destroy my belongings in secret.”

“Cannae ye?” Maisie said.

Brodie’s eyes widened. “No!” he cried. “I cannae believe Iona would do such a thing. Sh-she’s unhappy, but she’s not cruel.”

“She’s thrown plenty of cruel words yer way, Brodie,” Maisie said. “But ye’re too sweet on her to think her capable of any evil.”

“I agree with Brodie, Maisie, lass,” Rory said. “Iona’s just a little wild, like all young lasses her age who grew up without the steadying hand of a father. What that lass needs is a husband to take her in hand and tame her wild ways.” He let out a chuckle. “What about ye, Brodie, lad? Surely ye must be old enough to know that yer cock’s not just for pissing.”

Brodie went as red as fire and his lower lip wobbled.

“Rory!” Maisie cried, slapping the ghillie on his arm. “I’ve told ye before, ye shouldn’t speak so in front of Mia. She’s not used to our uncouth ways.”

“I’m only saying what the rest of us are thinking, love.”

Maisie’s eyes widened at Rory’s term of endearment, but she said nothing.

“There’s plenty of lasses hereabouts who’d take Brodie in hand.” He let out a chuckle. “There’s Florrie—her who lives along the valley.”

“What, Campbell’s widow?” Maisie said. “She’s forty if she’s a day. She’d make mincemeat of young Brodie.”

“But she’d teach him a thing or two,” Rory said with a chuckle. “And if Brodie’s needing a son, there’s no sturdier pair of hips in the whole of Glenblath.”

Maisie frowned and folded her arms. “And how would ye know, Rory MacLennan?”

He blushed and shrugged. “Campbell used to tell me how she used to—”