Highland Storms Read Free Page B

he’d saved by allowing them to board his merchant ship before the Redcoats caught up with them.
    ‘ Ailsa’s not in good health and I haven’t heard from her in ages. But there is a factor, yes, Colin Seton,’ he said now. ‘He sends me regular reports and the income that is your due. I’ve kept it for you and I’ll hand it over before you leave. Lately, however, there hasn’t been so much as a farthing and Seton’s letters are full of tales of woe. The tacksmen are insolent, they don’t pay their rents, the sheep and cattle are dwindling in numbers, the house has needed repairs, the crops are failing … The list is endless and as a result he’s asking me for money instead of sending any. I want to know why.’
    ‘ Isn’t it possible he’s right though? I mean, the Scots have suffered since the forty-five and I’ve heard tell there’s a lot of hardship. Why not at Rosyth?’
    Killian shook his head. ‘My grandfather ran it with an iron fist. It’s always been prosperous and in my youth, when he was teaching me all about it, he showed me that even during hard times, Rosyth ought to do reasonably well. Some losses are always to be expected, certainly, but not to this extent. I’m telling you, there’s something seriously wrong. I want you to get to the bottom of it.’
    ‘ Very well. I suppose it’s no worse than sitting around here brooding. And the whisky is good, I hear.’
    Killian shot him an impatient look, his blue eyes darkening with anger. ‘This is serious, Brice. You’re the new Lord Rosyth, it’s your concern.’
    ‘ Me, a Scottish laird?’ Brice almost laughed. He hadn’t been to Scotland since he was a boy and considered himself Swedish through and through, despite his father’s antecedents. Even though he’d known about it, becoming the next laird had always seemed like something that was too far away to bother thinking about.
    ‘ It’s not a laughing matter. The oldest son always inherits and that’s you, whether you like it or not. Sooner or later, it would have been yours. It’s a very important position, but one which brings with it responsibilities. A Highland chief is almost like a father to his clan – less so now the accursed new English laws are in place, but the people will still expect things from you. And Scotland is beautiful. Who’s to say you won’t like it and want to stay? You used to love it there as a boy.’
    Brice snorted. ‘Right now, going back to bed sounds more appealing to be honest.’ He caught another dark look from his father and held up his hands. ‘But fine, if you want me to go to Rosyth, I will. Just tell me what to do. Shouldn’t be that difficult.’ He knew his father was trying to help him forget about the recent marriage débâcle and to a certain extent he’d succeeded. Thanks to Killian, Brice now had a purpose and an excellent excuse for leaving Sweden. The more he thought about it, the more he realised it was a good thing.
    ‘ Right. Then let me tell you my plan …’
     

Chapter Three
     
    Edinburgh, August 1754
     
    Brice stepped off one of his father’s merchant ships at the port of Leith and looked around with interest. He hadn’t set foot in Scotland for nearly ten years, but Killian had been right, he remembered now how much he’d always liked it here. In fact, there was no denying he felt almost as at home as he did in Sweden. The voices all around him spoke in a mixture of tongues, mostly Scots, Gaelic or English, but he understood them all for the most part, although his Gaelic was a bit rusty. He’d spent some time at Rosyth House every summer until the age of twelve and by mixing with the local children he soon picked up their speech.
    He stood still for a moment while his mind adjusted to the unaccustomed sounds. He was sure the Gaelic would soon come back to him and he’d be fluent again in no time. He had an ear for languages since his mother had spoken to him in Dutch, his father in English and Scots,