Free Seduced by a Rogue by Amanda Scott Page A

evenly, Fiona said with a sigh, “Life is most
     unfair to women, I think.”
    “Even
women
are sometimes unfair to women,” Mairi said a little tartly. “I am sure that Phaeline believes I shall
never
find a husband.”
    “She has certainly hinted as much,” Fiona said. “One wonders how she expects the situation to change when it is
her
determination to produce a son that prevents any eligible man from learning what your fortune may be.”
    “Well, for all that she has been the only mother I’ve known and has, I think, been a dutiful mother to me, I think she would
     prefer to see me married and gone.”
    “Mayhap she would, but she will not say so,” Fiona said. “I suspect that one thing keeping her from insisting Father
find
you a husband is that it would force him to offer a large tocher. You’d have to have enough so that suitors would not mind
     so much if Mam does succeed at last in giving him a son.”
    “I don’t have any suitors.”
    “So we
must
persuade her to arrange for us to meet eligible men. Mayhap she would let us hold a feast here after Easter,” Fiona added
     with a thoughtful air.
    “Fee, you might as well admit that you are just scheming to invite William Jardine here. You must not even dream of such a
     thing!”
    “Well, if I am not to think of Will Jardine, then you must swear never to think of Robert Maxwell again,” Fiona said. “In
     time, I do think I can persuade Father to engage more kindly with the Jardines and thus make friends of them. Even if he does,
     though, he will never agree to let you marry a Maxwell.”
    “But I don’t
want
to marry him,” Mairi said. “I’ve no thought of marrying anyone yet. Nor will I until I meet a man with whom I could bear
     to spend my life.”
    She meant what she said. Her thoughts might now and again—without effort—turn to Robert Maxwell. But although he might be
     handsome and display reassuring strength and undeniable charm, he was no less an enemy, and he had behaved arrogantly when
     they’d first met. So that, she told herself, was that.
    Since leaving Dunwythie Mains, she had missed it more each day. During the sennight they had spent there, her father had behaved
     as if she and Fiona were important to him and useful. He had exerted himself to explain things, and to introduce them to his
     steward, his bailie, and others who might aid them—if it ever came to that.
    He had also promised to introduce them to neighboring landowners in days to come. Instead, he was traveling hither and yon
     to talk to other men about the sheriff’s threat, leaving his daughters at home with Phaeline.
    Mairi felt as if, after a week of pretending to be an adult, she had returned to her childhood. Fiona was right, she decided.
     Their life at Annan House was boring. If she had an ounce of spirit, Mairi told herself sternly, she would not stand for it.
    She would
do
something about it.

Chapter 5
    R ob stepped out of Trailinghail Tower into the yard late Friday morning to find the knacker Parland Dow dismounting from his
     horse.
    As Rob went toward him, an orange-and-white ball of fluff pursued by one of his hounds shot across the yard and up his leg.
     The dog saw Rob and skidded abruptly to a halt, tail wagging, tongue lolling. Rob bent to pat its head.
    The kitten, climbing to Rob’s shoulder, looked down and hissed.
    “Hush, cat,” Rob said as he ruffled the dog’s ears.
    He had feared for the kitten’s life at first but only until he saw that the fearless little beast was able—with the aid of
     only one or two roared commands from him—to inspire the same respect in his dogs that it had inspired in Gibby. The cat apparently
     viewed the dogs as playmates if not as rather large, amusing toys, so Rob had relaxed his vigilance.
    The hound trotted after him as he went to greet the knacker.
    “I did hear at Dumfries about the wee gift Herself gave ye,” Dow said, nodding toward the kitten as they shook hands. “I see
     ye’re