speak to her then. Please don’t ask her if she’s enjoying herself. I made that mistake the other day there when I saw her laughing with one of the castle wenches and she snarled at me. We’re slowly reconnecting. She’s had a hard time, these past few years, not having me around to give her a balanced perspective on life. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“I wouldn’t worry, John, she seems a sensible gel to me. She’ll fall for your charms, just like her mother did. Talking of which, how is Bea?”
“Neurotic as ever, getting married to some Spanish count, who’s penniless and adrift in America, looking for a rich divorcee to suck dry.”
“Well, at least you managed to keep your bloodline going through Saba. Okay, she isn’t a son, but from what I saw of her downstairs, it won’t be long before those fine childbearing hips of hers are spitting out small Dukes like barley from a pea-shooter.”
“I had a welcome home party for her recently. All the local families and their eligible sons were there. Some of them were clearly useless and inadequate, but there were a few possible candidates. She spent the whole evening verbally destroying them and tearing them apart. I was affronted by her performance. Lord Radcliffe’s eldest boy left the room in tears and insisted on going home early.”
“She’s young, John. I understand that she’s only fourteen…just a young filly. Give her a year or two and you’ll be strapping a bridle on her to slow her down. You’ll see.”
“So, what’s happening with you, Frank? Are you still a socialist then?”
“You know me, John. Someone has to stick up for the working man. I know everyone can’t be equal, but at least they’re entitled to a champion fighting on their behalf.”
Chapter Thirteen
There wis a strong breeze coming in fae the west that wid help them heid alang the Kyle towards the River Shin, Innes hid telt him, as they pulled aff the canvas that covered the rowing boat, which sat camouflaged under a birch tree, surrounded by broom.
“Right, Paul, after three, laddie. Three,” Innes grunted, lifting his end, hauf running towards the water line.
When Innes telt him that they were aff tae catch a salmon, he’d assumed that it wid be wae a fishing rod or line.
“Now, why would I do a stupid thing like that for?”
“Er, Ah don’t know…noo, let me think. Aye, Ah know…because maist people catch fish wae a fishing rod or line?” he’d replied, sarcastically.
“The trouble with you town folk is that you’ve no style or respect. Anyone can catch a fish with a rod or line. Me? I like to get more involved, be less passive and more engaged with the art of hunting. More hands on, is how you would describe it. It gives you a sense of being the hunter-gatherer, rather than sitting on your soft townie arse with a cigar in one hand and a book on fishing in the other. Aye, hunter-gatherer, that’s what I’m talking about, laddie,” Innes hid chimed, as Whitey rolled her eyes tae the ceiling fur the seventh time in as many minutes.
Innes hid showed him the route that they’d be taking oan an auld map that he’d taken doon fae behind some ae Whitey’s jars. He’d found the map years earlier, blowing aboot in the wind when he wis oot poaching.
“Chased it for about two miles over hill and burn, I did, before it got stuck up a tree. I had just got my mitts on it and the branch I was standing on gave way and I plunged twenty feet to the ground.”
“Six feet,” Whitey corrected him.
“Anyhow, once I got the bloody thing down and spread it on the ground, I never learned anything that I didn’t already know, would you believe?” he mused.
Paul followed Innes’s dirt-ingrained finger as he traced their route. The River Shin came doon fae Loch Shin up at Lairg. Fae Lairg it heided doon
“I wouldn’t worry, John, she seems a sensible gel to me. She’ll fall for your charms, just like her mother did. Talking of which, how is Bea?”
“Neurotic as ever, getting married to some Spanish count, who’s penniless and adrift in America, looking for a rich divorcee to suck dry.”
“Well, at least you managed to keep your bloodline going through Saba. Okay, she isn’t a son, but from what I saw of her downstairs, it won’t be long before those fine childbearing hips of hers are spitting out small Dukes like barley from a pea-shooter.”
“I had a welcome home party for her recently. All the local families and their eligible sons were there. Some of them were clearly useless and inadequate, but there were a few possible candidates. She spent the whole evening verbally destroying them and tearing them apart. I was affronted by her performance. Lord Radcliffe’s eldest boy left the room in tears and insisted on going home early.”
“She’s young, John. I understand that she’s only fourteen…just a young filly. Give her a year or two and you’ll be strapping a bridle on her to slow her down. You’ll see.”
“So, what’s happening with you, Frank? Are you still a socialist then?”
“You know me, John. Someone has to stick up for the working man. I know everyone can’t be equal, but at least they’re entitled to a champion fighting on their behalf.”
Chapter Thirteen
There wis a strong breeze coming in fae the west that wid help them heid alang the Kyle towards the River Shin, Innes hid telt him, as they pulled aff the canvas that covered the rowing boat, which sat camouflaged under a birch tree, surrounded by broom.
“Right, Paul, after three, laddie. Three,” Innes grunted, lifting his end, hauf running towards the water line.
When Innes telt him that they were aff tae catch a salmon, he’d assumed that it wid be wae a fishing rod or line.
“Now, why would I do a stupid thing like that for?”
“Er, Ah don’t know…noo, let me think. Aye, Ah know…because maist people catch fish wae a fishing rod or line?” he’d replied, sarcastically.
“The trouble with you town folk is that you’ve no style or respect. Anyone can catch a fish with a rod or line. Me? I like to get more involved, be less passive and more engaged with the art of hunting. More hands on, is how you would describe it. It gives you a sense of being the hunter-gatherer, rather than sitting on your soft townie arse with a cigar in one hand and a book on fishing in the other. Aye, hunter-gatherer, that’s what I’m talking about, laddie,” Innes hid chimed, as Whitey rolled her eyes tae the ceiling fur the seventh time in as many minutes.
Innes hid showed him the route that they’d be taking oan an auld map that he’d taken doon fae behind some ae Whitey’s jars. He’d found the map years earlier, blowing aboot in the wind when he wis oot poaching.
“Chased it for about two miles over hill and burn, I did, before it got stuck up a tree. I had just got my mitts on it and the branch I was standing on gave way and I plunged twenty feet to the ground.”
“Six feet,” Whitey corrected him.
“Anyhow, once I got the bloody thing down and spread it on the ground, I never learned anything that I didn’t already know, would you believe?” he mused.
Paul followed Innes’s dirt-ingrained finger as he traced their route. The River Shin came doon fae Loch Shin up at Lairg. Fae Lairg it heided doon