If the weather held, they could spend tomorrow at leisure, browsing the stalls and enjoying the food and entertainment provided. This was no small affair, he realized while taking note of the sizeable crowd.
It was obvious that visitors had converged on this spot from all over the country.
He worried about finding a place to spend the night, but the task was accomplished with surprising ease. They found a charming inn on an elegant Melrose square across the field from the fairgrounds, and were settled into their cozy quarters just before dusk.
Syd was delighted and continually cast him breathtaking smiles as they dined in the crowded common room. She had more smiles for him when they retired to bed. “Are you going to dream of me or sheep?” he teased, taking her into his arms, as had become his habit, when she climbed in beside him.
“If I bleat in my sleep, then you’ll know that you have lost out.”
He laughed and kissed her. “Sweet dreams, love.”
“Sweet dreams, Octavian,” she purred and kissed him back.
He knew Syd was happy because she fell asleep right away, her head resting against his chest and her body curled up against his own.
He followed soon after, for there were sheep to be purchased come morning and Syd viewed it as serious business. An entire flock to be purchased, to be precise, and his first chore tomorrow morning would be to acquire them for the Armstrong clan.
Since Melrose was within a day’s ride of Gretna Green, he and Syd were not all that surprised to encounter LairdArmstrong and his men wandering the fairgrounds the following afternoon.
Syd dragged Octavian along as she rushed forward to greet them. “Laird Armstrong! What a fortunate coincidence.” She cast the laird an enchanting smile that did not fail to charm him. “My husband and I were just deciding how best to deliver the sheep to you, and here you are. It is most convenient. Would you be able to take delivery of them right here and now?”
The laird glanced at Octavian, obviously surprised. “Ye bought sheep for us?”
He nodded. “We promised you, did we not?”
“Och, aye. But I seriously did not think an Englishman would keep to his word.”
“I always do.”
Syd nodded. “He always does. He is the most honest man you will ever encounter.”
Octavian grinned, not minding at all that Syd sang his praises. He was no longer surprised by her compliments because there was a traditional side to her that did love and honor him. It was the obeying part she had yet to get right, and he fully expected her to run amok at some point during the fair. There was too much going on and too many people around for somethingnotto happen.
Perhaps he was turning into a mother hen and worrying too much.
Jamie Armstrong had accompanied his laird, another fortunate circumstance because Octavian could discuss hiring workers for the Greenock shipyard contracts now, as well. “Jamie, the manager position is yours if you want it.” He then turned to the laird. “Armstrong, I have a place for nine more workers. Let me be clear, Jamie will be in charge. He will assign each man to his daily task and oversee what they are doing. Any of your men interested?”
The old lord’s eyes widened and then began to sparkle with amusement. “Blessed saints, Thorne. Seems attempting to rob ye was the best thing we could have done. Ye’re keeping to that promise, as well? In truth, I would not have blamed ye if ye could no’ have delivered on those jobs.”
“What say you? Would your men be willing? I need good workers. No idlers.”
Syd, who had been standing by Octavian’s side all the while, now cleared her throat. “Not your son, however.”
Octavian groaned. “Syd, hush.”
She tipped her chin up in defiance. “He was rude, hotheaded, and meant to cause trouble. My lord, I believe your son is best kept with you if you ever hope to mold him into a proper leader. Don’t you agree?”
Octavian put an arm around her waist and drew her up against his side, the gesture instinctively protective because– true to herself– Syd had formed an ill opinion of the laird’s son, was determined not to let him anywhere near those ships being built, and had now insulted the father by telling him that his son was a fool and a lout.
She viewed it as her moral duty to be honest.
At this moment, Octavian thought tact, not honesty, was the better virtue.
That they were notherships nor was it her decision to make, did not stop her from spouting her opinion. This was Syd at her righteous best. “For pity’s sake, Syd.”
While the laird might have accepted the insult quietly, the laird’s son had come up behind her and heard every word.
“A hotheaded lout, am I?” he shouted.
