Return of the Scot (Scots of Honor #1) - Eliza Knight Page 0,5

convince him that reversing the sale without the funds readily available to compensate him would be in the man’s best interest. That part proved harder to imagine than the many ways he would torture Gille for his treachery.

“Then we discovered the sword gone,” Mungo said, and Lorne realized he’d missed what the man had been talking about.

“Why would he take it?”

“We all thought to put at his new residence.”

But Lorne didn’t believe it. Nay, his brother wanted to make sure his betrayal hit Lorne hard. Selling the family seat was a knife to the throat, but stealing the family relic was twisting that knife. But that didn’t make sense because, at the time, as far as everyone knew, Lorne was dead.

Lorne gritted his teeth. He’d left one hell only to fall into another.

2

One week later

Edinburgh, Scotland

Jaime leapt to her feet at the sound of a knock at the door, followed by her butler entering the drawing room.

“Miss Andrewson, pardon my interruption.”

“Aye, MacInnes?” She wiped at her lips to make certain she didn’t have any stray crumbs.

“There is a gentleman here to see ye, my lady. He has asked me to give ye this.” He held out a silver tray with a crisp white envelope on it, addressed to “Sir Jaime Andrewson.”

Sir? She rolled her eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time some ignoramus thought her to be a man.

“He does no’ know I’m a woman?”

“Nay, miss, and given he did no’, I have yet to correct him.”

Thank heavens for small favors. “What would I do without ye?”

MacInnes nodded, his lips twitching into the only grin he’d give her. The man had been with her family since she was a lass, and she looked up to him as though he were an uncle rather than her servant.

She took the envelope, running her thumb over what looked like a hastily scrawled script.

“Shall I wait for your reply?”

Jaime hesitated. “He is downstairs?”

“Aye. ”

“Please wait, then.” Breaking the unstamped seal, Jaime pulled out a card that said “Lorne Gordon, Duke of Sutherland.”

“Impossible.” Jaime swayed on her feet, grabbing the back of a chair to steady herself. She lifted her gaze to MacInnes. “Did ye recognize him? Or is it an imposter?”

MacInnes nodded. “’Tis the former Duke of Sutherland. Well, the rightful duke, I suppose.”

“How?”

“A miracle?” MacInnes kept his face blank of any expression.

“There is no such thing as miracles. Men do no’ die and come back to life, MacInnes. He was never dead. The entire thing has been a great farce played on all of England and Scotland, which I would no’ put past him, given his propensity for falsehoods.”

MacInnes did not answer but patiently waited as she resumed her pacing, the card crumpled in her fist.

He was supposed to be dead.

Jaime stared down at the letter in her trembling hand, trying not to toss it into the fire.

How in Hades could a dead man be paying her a call?

Why now? Dead for two years, and just as she was about to complete what she’d been working toward, he’d decided to show his face.

Oh, dear heavens—had her sister run into him? Jaime had gifted her sister and nephew Dunrobin Castle a week or so ago, and they’d left right away, though she still held the deed in a locked drawer in her office. Had poor Shanna been subjected to a specter? Was that why her sister had failed to report on the castle in the Highlands? She’d sworn to write Jaime as soon as they arrived. That had been days ago.

Jaime paced her drawing room, certain she would wear a path into the beautiful silk Persian rug in light blue, gold and rose medallions.

Lorne Gordon, the Duke of Sutherland—former duke—alive? No. His title had been given to his half-brother upon his death. She’d read all about it in The Edinburgh Advertiser. The only Duke of Sutherland was Gille Gordon.

There had been some kind of mistake. Lorne was supposed to be dead. She scoffed.

This was a cruel trick. A scam from someone jealous of her. Someone who wanted her out of the way, perhaps to sabotage all she’d worked for these past years. MacInnes was getting older; his eyes must have deceived him.

Without a doubt, purchasing the Highland castle had been about revenge. Revenge against a dead man who’d scorned her family. She’d felt satisfaction in holding the deed to his home. Despite her motivation, the move had brought about something else—her plans to build a great port in the north to expand the Andrewson