Page 4 of Brazen

Chapter Two

Magnus Forbes squatted on the edge of a fallow field and pulled up a weed, careful to keep the roots intact. Dark soil clung to the rootball in small clumps. That was exactly what he’d hoped for. He shook the soil into his hand, then allowed it to sift through his fingers. It fell in dark, moist clumps to the ground. Nothing compared to the feel of moist, rich earth.

He rose and brushed off his hand. “You were right, Stirling. The land is perfect for farming.”

“Do no’ forget the two hundred acres of prime grazing land,” Stirling said.

Magnus surveyed the trees that dotted the hills beyond the even farmland. Today was an unusually bright November day, but even on days when the sun hid behind cloud cover, which so often occurred, this place would be beautiful.

“Ye say there might be more property for sale to the west?” Magnus asked.

Stirling nodded. “I have it on good authority the owners are interesting in selling.”

“Excellent.” He caught sight of a modest stone estate to the east. The L-shaped mansion stood atop a hill that overlooked what would be grazing hills. His chest expanded. “Is that Barkely Hall?”

“Aye,” Stirling replied.

Magnus liked it. He would plant in the eastern valley’s fifty-hectare flatland.

“Shall we look at the house?” Stirling asked.

Magnus nodded, though he’d already made his decision.

* * *

A week later, Magnus turned in bed and opened his eyes. The sun edging over the mountain peaks was visible above the windowsill. He drew in a breath. When was the last time he’d woken to a quiet morning? He grimaced. Maybe never. No servants raced down the hallway, gripping a newspaper filled with news of the Marquess of Thachton’s latest scandal—or the scandal of his son and heir, who attempted to surpass his father’s reputation as a gambler and rake.

Never again would he wake in the wee hours of the morning to the creak of floorboards as his father or brother arrived home after a night of carousing, or left the house for a dawn appointment. He wouldn’t have to dodge the women his father and brother had ruined. Well, ruined was unfair. His father did have one rule that he enforced ruthlessly: neither he nor his sons were allowed to ruin a virgin. For that much, Magnus was thankful.

Still, when he traveled about Edinburgh, he was forced to avoid half the ladies in Society. He felt certain that was the very reason his mother currently resided in France. Though, to be fair, she had caused a scandal or two herself. His mother and father’s marriage was not a love match. But that was all too common these days.

Now, however, not only did he not have to worry about encountering any of his family’s paramours, he didn’t have to worry about encountering anyone—including the Society ladies who cared more for his money and handsome features than him.

Magnus glanced at the bill for a prize Arabian stallion that sat on his desk near the window. An image rose of the woman he’d planned to marry, Lady Beatrice, her honey brown hair and eyes to match. By now, she’d received his letter of goodbye, along with the Arabian, and a very personal post script that said, I hope he gives you as much pleasure as I would have.

He would never cease to be amazed at how quickly circumstance could change. Two days before he purchased Barkely Hall, he’d learned that Beatrice had been planning to spend his money. Women liked to spend money. He’d learned that long ago. Though it grated that she’d vocalize her plans to the degree that they reached his ears. The worst part, however, had been her observations on what she called ‘his obvious endowment’ and how she planned to ‘ride him like a wild stallion.’

By the time he reached the age of sixteen, Magnus understood his popularity with women—and he enjoyed it. At sixteen, a woman’s desire to ride him like a wild stallion would have been all he needed. Now, however, at thirty-two years of age, he’d hoped for affection, if not respect. Thankfully, unlike his brother, he wasn’t obligated to wed. The stallion had come at a high price, but not so high as he would have paid had he made the mistake of marrying Beatrice.

His belongings would arrive this week. In the meantime, his man of affairs would hire a housekeeper and all other help for the estate, while Magnus hired men to work the fields and purchased cattle that would soon graze his land.

A soft knock sounded, then the door opened and his valet entered. “Good morning, sir.” Neill carried a tray with coffee, toast, and the paper.

Magnus threw back the covers and grabbed the robe from the bench. “Morning, Neill,” he said as he slid his arms into the sleeves. “I think, after today, I will take my coffee and toast in the breakfast room. Things will be quieter from now on, so I see no need to avoid the breakfast room.”

“Very good, sir.” Neill set the tray on the table near the window. “You have received a letter from the Marquess, my lord.”

Magnus glanced at the sealed envelope on the side of the tray. His father “Thank you.”

Neill left and Magnus tied his robe as he crossed to the tray. He picked up the envelope and broke the seal then lowered himself into the seat beside the table.

Magnus,

Duncan and I have just returned from France. I am pleased that the purchase of Barkely Hall went well. Have you spoken with Mr. Lorne about the purchase of cattle? Stirling is acquainted with him. I am sure he will be pleased to make an introduction.

We will visit you in a month or so when you have had a chance to settle in.

Your mother sends her regards and asks that you write. Please do so.