The Scottish Lord’s Secret Bride by Raven McAllan Page B

On a matter pertaining to one of my employees,’ he said very precisely. ‘Here is my card.’
    The man grinned. ‘Ach, m’laird, I ken fine who ye are. I’m from up the glen from Kintrain. Andy Graham. I’m helping oot whilst ma da is ill. I’ll be telling him you’re here. Come awa’ in and wait oot o’ the cold.’ He ushered them into a pleasant room with a view of the castle from its windows. ‘It’s a bitty chilly the day. I’ll be finding you a wee dram while you wait. I’m thinking it might be an awfy while afore yee’s seen.’
    ‘I bet he gets hell…or whatever for speaking like that to visitors,’ Fraser muttered out of the corner of his mouth once they had a dram each and a plate of shortbread on the table between them. ‘It must be hard for those who aren’t from around here to understand two words in ten.’
    ‘Ach, dinnae be thrawn,’ Morven said with a creditable attempt at the man’s accent, then bit back a grin. ‘It’s easy…’ She chuckled. ‘No it isn’t, I’m sure I only got the gist of what he said. Any more and I would have needed you to translate.’ She looked up at the mantel clock. ‘We’ve been here over an hour. Is it a conspiracy to make you humble?’
    ‘Or give us time to appreciate where we are? I have no idea. I’ve heard that the minister in charge here is a good man, but a stickler for all things proper.’
    ‘So you said, ah…’ Morven broke off and pinched his wrist. A tall dark-haired man with a severe expression approached them.
    ‘And what can I do for you, my lord?’ The tone was not exactly welcoming. The man’s grim countenance matched the tenor of his voice exactly. ‘Out of your area are you not?’
    Fraser groaned. Of all the men it could be it had to be Struan Davie, one of the few people who held Fraser in contempt for going abroad. Davie was old school, and thought a laird needed to stop on his major lands whatever the needs elsewhere. Which was probably why his estate had not flourished as well as Fraser’s had. Fraser had no compunction in asking for help when needed, or being a hands-on employer. He doubted Davie knew one end of a hay rake from the other.
    Why Davie was now working for the presbytery Fraser had no idea, but he was not who they needed to see. Nor was Fraser prepared to give him any information about their business. The man had never been known for his discretion, and he doubted he’d changed over the years.
    ‘Not at all, Davie, just looking after the needs of my people.’ The other man flushed. It seemed he’d forgotten just what Fraser’s title and role in the area was.
    ‘Your pardon, my lord,’ Struan Davie said stiffly. ‘I’ll take you to the office now. Both of you?’
    Fraser nodded. ‘Both of us.’ His tone held a note of finality that no one would be stupid enough to ignore. Luckily, he thought, Davie heard it and paid heed.
    ‘This way then.’ Davie turned on his heels and stalked back the way he came. Fraser looked at Morven.
    ‘Shall we?’
    Morven shot him a concerned look and nodded. Fraser did his best to convey reassurance, even though he felt none of it. Maybe this was not going to be as easy as he thought?
    It all went downhill from that moment. The cleric they wished to see was away on church duties and his relief was neither pleasant nor helpful. The relief cleric would, he asserted, need the names of those concerned to be able to advise them. The glint in his eye spoke more of inquisitiveness than a desire to help. Fraser had been courteous, and firm. No names could be given, until, he said, he had the permission of those concerned.
    On that note they had left the man and had a happier hour examining the church of the Holy Rude, so Morven could see how it had been divided to allow opposing preachers to hold services at the same time. She told him she could have lingered longer in there, it was a beautiful, peaceful place, but Fraser had looked at the sky and said they ought to get