A Time & Place for Every Laird by Angeline Fortin (reading comprehension books .txt) 📗

protect his knuckles fromfurther injury. He had seen the understanding in her eyes when shehad come into the garage, had seen the empathy, and would bewilling to wager that she had done the same on more than oneoccasion – as odd as that might seem. Rarely had he seen a womandriven to violence, at least not the sort that wasn’t dispensedjustly or unjustly upon the nearest male. It was yet another thingthat made Sorcha so unique.

“No, I didn’t,” was all she said beforelowering her eyes to his plate. “How did you know what the punchingbag was for?”

“I dinnae ken what it was when we firstarrived yesterday, but I saw in yer periodicals an article onboxing,” he explained. “There were portraits of the bag inuse.”

Sorcha considered that with a nod andchanged the subject. “How are the pancakes?”

Hugh mouthed the foreign word to himself ashis gaze returned to his plate as well. “Tasty. Thank ye again forall that ye hae done.” The pair of pancakes were consumed within afew more bites, hardly putting a dent in his hunger, but Sorchasurprised him by bringing over another covered plate, raising thelid to reveal a pile of a half dozen more.

Lifting his eyes back to hers, he found thejeweled tones dancing with laughter even if her expression remainedas solemn as ever. “After dinner last night, I anticipated thatyour appetite might be more akin to an elephant’s, so …”

The words trailed off with a shrug but thatbit of humor brought the color back to her cheeks, until Sorcha wasonce again radiating the life and energy that had seemed barelycontained the previous day. Contained until he had subdued thatenergy with his own idiocy.

Hugh found he didn’t wantto see that light die in her eyes again. “Elephant?” he scoffedgood-naturedly. “My aunt always likened me tae a small herd ofcattle or a wolf, though everyone knows that the last wolf inScotland was shot by a Mackintosh in Invernesshire nae more than adecade past.” Hugh paused, his humorfading, as did Sorcha’s when they both realized what he had said. Awry smile twisted his lips. “A decade, a few centuries.’Tis all the same now,is that nae true?”

Sorcha offered a tight, sympathetic smile.“Time is what we make it, Hugh. Some quantum physicist said thatkind of tongue in cheek, but more than anyone, I think it appliesto you now.” She took her plate to the sink while he continued toeat and rinsed the platter before setting it aside. “I took theopportunity this morning while you were … uh, out exercising to doa little research on the history of Scotland so I could answer yourquestions better than I did yesterday.”

Raising a brow, Hugh did his best to lookinterested though his stomach knotted with dread when shehesitated. It wasn’t a good sign. “Go ahead. Ye can tell me nowwhat I would hae seen wi’ my own eyes if I had stayed. We lost thebattle, aye?”

“Yes,” Sorcha said.“George I stayed on the English throne, but the government waspretty shaken by what had happened. I read on one site that theforces in Scotland made up of Highlanders, who most in Englandconsidered a backward people—their words, not mine—had ‘anill-equipped, ill-prepared, and often ill-ledarmy’ but that it was one that had won many battles. It seemed tobe something of a surprise to them.”

“For hundreds of yearsthey underestimated the determination of the Hielanders,” Hugh saidin answer to her unspoken question. “And then what happened? Goon.”

Still, she bit her lip hesitantly beforecontinuing. “The government wanted to punish those responsible forthe rebellion. I guess that meant the lairds, because they tookaway all their power, trying to do away with the clan system. TheHighland lairds forfeited their lands and legal rights …”

Hugh straightened at that. “Bah, a lairdisnae a laird because of his wealth and land! Ye cannae just takethe title away and make it so!”

Sorcha nodded in agreement. “One historiannoted that a laird was something more personal to the people than atitle alone, but the government fought pretty hard to make theclans disappear. They passed a law making it so the Highlanderscould not carry weapons. They outlawed the broadsword, the playingof the bagpipes, and the wearing of Highland clothes or plaid foreveryone except soldiers serving the Crown.”

Anger curdled in Hugh’s belly for hispeople, for Highlanders like himself who had been suppressed by theSassenach. Appetite gone, he pushed his plate away. “Dinnae tell methere were nae executions,” he said bitterly. “The Sassenach love agood execution.”

“There were some,” Sorcha admittedhesitantly.

“The Earl of Cairn?” Hugh asked. “Was he oneof them?”

“Not that I saw,” she answered, and Hughreleased a sigh of relief. “On the bright side, forty or fiftyyears later, most of the restrictions on the suppression of theScots culture were lifted, giving back the right to wear the kiltand all that. Most of the lairds got their land back, as well.”

“Then what?” he asked. “Do the Sassenachrepress us still?”

“No, not really. Scotland is its owncountry,” she said, inexplicably twitching the index and middlefinger of each hand in the air as she said the word “country.”“Scotland and Wales regained some control of their countries abouttwenty years ago but are still technically a part of the Union.They are part of Great Britain along with England and Ireland. Ahundred years after Culloden, Scotland boomed during the IndustrialRevolution. There was shipbuilding, mining, I think it said, andthey were major exporters of linen. The Queen has a castle atBalmoral. There has even been a prime minister or two fromScotland.”

Hugh grunted at that. The advancement ofpoliticians from his land was nothing to brag over. It washeartening to know that his country had prospered over time, thoughHugh knew that the years immediately following the revolution wouldhave been the worst of his life if he had still been there. Hedidn’t know whether to be saddened or cheered that he had missedthem.

“Are you all right, Hugh?” Claire askedsoftly when Hugh continued to wallow in silence. He must bemiserable after what she had told him. Certainly it was not what hewould have liked to hear.

“Aye, Sorcha,” he murmured. “I was justthinking about what was