Free Master of Sin by Maggie Robinson Page B

Peartree. It bedeviled Andrew that he had to rely on Caroline’s husband, but he really had no choice.
    Andrew hated to depend on anyone but himself. People were bound to disappoint, if not actually cause despair. He’d learned that at a very early age. His son must never know any fraction of the sorrow he’d experienced as a child. Andrew was all Marc had now, and for once, he would do the right and honorable thing.
    Even here in this Scottish hellhole.

CHAPTER 6
    â€œ W hat is your Christian name, Miss Peartree?” He was tired of thinking of her so formally in his nightly fantasies. It was probably something prosaic, like Mary or Margaret, but he really had to know. It had become something of an obsession for him, but from the looks of her, she still wasn’t going to tell him.
    â€œI have not given you leave to call me anything but Miss Peartree, nor will I,” she sniffed. She crumbled a muffin and handed it to Marc. His son shredded it even further before he popped it in his mouth, fist and all. The boy was blooming and had put on weight under Miss Peartree’s vigilant care. Mrs. MacLaren’s fine, simple cooking helped, too. Andrew was getting somewhat stout himself. It was impossible to tell the effect on Miss Peartree, however. She was dwarfed in her borrowed clothes. Evidently the largest women on the island had pitched in to donate their shapeless cast-offs. If Miss Peartree stayed, he would have to order her something better than the rough homespun that hung from her tiny frame.
    â€œElizabeth.”
    She did not respond except to cut a sausage in thirds for his son.
    â€œCalliope.”
    She pursed her lips. “My mother was not so fanciful, sir.”
    â€œJane, then.”
    She shook her head and ate her eggs. “ Bene, e Marc ? So good.”
    â€œGoo!” his son shouted.
    â€œ Si . Yes. Good.” Miss Peartree’s radiant smile tripped Andrew’s hard heart.
    She pointed to her plate. “ Uova . Eggs.”
    â€œEck!”
    â€œEat yours, love. Mangia .”
    Marc shoveled his spoon into the eggs and got most of the contents in his mouth. “Goo eck.”
    â€œYou’re making remarkable progress.”
    â€œMarc is a remarkable boy,” Miss Peartree said modestly. “He is by far the best pupil I’ve ever had.”
    â€œHow long have you been at this sort of work, Miss Peartree? If you won’t tell me your name, at least tell me your age.”
    â€œA gentleman never asks a lady her age, even if the lady is in his employ.” She blotted her lips on her napkin. Andrew envied the linen.
    â€œAh, but I have the feeling you don’t think me much of a gentleman.”
    â€œIt does not matter one whit what I think, Mr. Ross. I am interested in Marc, not you. And now that you’ve brought it up,” she said, lowering her voice, “I would appreciate it if you did not always look at me so. I thought I made that clear. We are still in our two-week trial period.”
    Andrew feigned innocence. “What do you mean, Miss Peartree? Evalina? Alberta?”
    â€œAs if you’d like to gobble me up like Marc did his muffin.”
    â€œMiss Peartree! I assure you I don’t want to turn you into a pile of crumbs.” Now, to slather her with jam or honey might be a tasty treat indeed.
    â€œAnd I have no wish to be turned,” she said with asperity. “But I do have an idea which I’d like to present to you if you could divert your attention to something serious.”
    Andrew took a sip of blistering hot coffee. Mrs. MacLaren must know precisely what he wanted to do with his tongue and was discouraging him in the only way available to her. “I am all ears, Miss Peartree.”
    â€œI believe it would benefit Marc if he could share his lessons with a few of the village children. They are as ignorant of the English language as he is. Lessons would be more in the way of play, of