The Shepherd's Betrothal (2 page)

“Yes, it would take some time to make the land ready for the sheep. I'll have to remove all the barbed wire and put in sheep fencing.”

“Which brings me to a conversation I was having with Mable last night. We can lower the price a bit since we'll be keeping the house. Or we could lease the property to you for a year or two. Then you can purchase the land if you're happy with the place. And if not, you can simply move on.”

Ian rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I shall prefer to purchase, and the lower price for not including the house and the land around it would be helpful, thank ye.”

William and Ian discussed the details of the purchase and put some notes down on paper for the lawyer who would write out the agreement. Ian stood and offered his hand. “A gentleman's agreement then?” Ian couldn't believe he'd made the decision so quickly but the land felt right, and he would enjoy having the Sanderses as neighbors.

William gave Ian's hand a hearty shake. “Deal.”

Mable smiled. “Wonderful. Will you be bringing a bride?” Mable asked.

Ian's mouth went dry. “If the Good Lord blesses, then perhaps one day.”

“I'll be praying for you,” Mable offered.

William slapped him on the back. “As will I. There isn't anything better than to have a good woman working at your side.”

“Thank ye.”

What else could he say? He certainly didn't want to tell the world about Hope Lang and his broken betrothal. His feelings were still a jumble. He'd been planning to break it off himself, and then she'd done it, which should have come as a relief, but now that he'd laid eyes on her, held her in his arms, something in him had shifted.

Why did he feel so rejected?

* * *

Somehow, Hope managed to get through her chores at the inn after her encounter with Ian McGrae. She'd been helping Grace Arman at the Seaside Inn as a favor to her best friend. Grace had not been feeling well and suspected she might be pregnant.

If only she hadn't lost her job with Hamilton Scott. It wasn't the perfect place to work but it was a good place to start in the business community. Even at a secretary level she was still learning about the inner workings of a business. However, the loss did allow her to help Grace out.

While working at the inn wasn't the type of work Hope preferred, she liked being useful. She had always prided herself on her ability to make good, sound decisions, which was why she'd done so well working for Hamilton Scott and his associates. Until he found fault with her work. Which still didn't make sense to her even these many days later.

Of course, of all the hotels in St. Augustine, Ian McGrae had chosen to stay at the Seaside Inn. Hope had learned who he was the previous day and was planning to introduce herself and try to explain why she'd sent the letter.

With her responsibilities done for the day, she ran home, debating her next step. She felt it was still her duty to speak with Mr. McGrae and explain to him why she wrote the letter to break off their betrothal. But now she was wondering whether he'd even gotten the letter. If he had, why would he be here? If he hadn't, she would have to break it off face-to-face. Oh, could this get worse?

Hope's hands started to shake. Last night she had confessed to her parents that she'd sent the letter. They were not pleased but said they would not interfere with her decision.

Hope nibbled the inside of her cheek. She'd been hoping to receive a letter from Ian stating that he, too, wanted to end the betrothal. Instead he'd come to America.

Her mother walked into the kitchen. “Hope, may I have a word with ye?”

“Of course.”

“Sit down.” Her mother patted the seat of a chair next to the island in the center of the kitchen. Hope sat down and clasped her hands together. “Ye father and I would like you to know a bit more about why we accepted the betrothal of the McGraes with their son, Ian. We were betrothed in a similar fashion.” Hope sat up straight.

“Ye father and I never gave it much thought because it was our way. But we have decided you'll marry whomever your heart, the Good Lord and parents approve of. Ye are an American. We can no longer live in the old ways. At the time, your father and Mr. McGrae thought it best, and Mr. McGrae owed your father in a way that money or words could never satisfy. But after our discussion your father and I have agreed that no such arrangement should have been set so long ago.”

Hope glanced down at her lap then back up to her mother, who had the same green eyes she'd inherited. “Thank you, Mum. I'm going to speak with Mr. McGrae about why I sent the letter. I feel badly that he came all the way to America to marry me…”

“Leave it in the Good Lord's hands, darlin'.” Her mother gave her a light embrace and went to the backyard to tend to her garden. For so long she'd been building up her resentment toward her parents for making this betrothal arrangement and now they were loving, forgiving and supporting her.
How could I have been so wrong for so long?

She shook off her thoughts and remembered the man she'd hurt. Grace had shared that Mr. McGrae hadn't had American currency to purchase meals, and she suspected that he was getting by with only his breakfast for the day, so Hope had decided to pack him a sandwich. Making him dinner was the least she could do to show Christian charity toward him. She'd offended him. She couldn't say that she'd broken his heart, since he didn't know her. No, it was a matter of honor—a commitment to their parents that she'd broken.

She loaded the carriage with the basket of food and headed back to the Seaside Inn.

Ian walked into the backyard and headed for the barn as the sun melted in the west. She watched from the back porch as he looked after his dogs, noting his loving touch upon their heads as he settled them down for the night.

He stood about six inches taller than her own five foot two. He had a sleek, muscular build with brown hair and a square chin, with a short, well-trimmed beard. Earlier she'd noticed how blue his eyes were.

“Mr. McGrae, may I have a word with you?”

Ian turned, and his expression hardened. “What would ye like to say, Miss Lang?”

“I'm sorry you came to America. I had hoped you'd received a letter from me.” Hope trailed off uncomfortably.

Ian inhaled deeply and let the air out slowly, then simply nodded. Gone was the wondrous smile she'd seen on his face the previous day, before he knew who she was. “I did.”

Hope stiffened, stunned.
Then why did you come?
She gathered her resolve and continued. “I would like to explain why I wrote the letter. Actually, I really would prefer not to explain…but I feel you are owed an explanation.” Hope gave him the best smile she could muster and pointed to her basket. “I brought you something to eat. Grace said you haven't had American money and have been only eating breakfast, so…” She let her words trail off.

He looked down at the basket. “Me funds have been transferred into the bank now. Thank ye for the kind offer but I'm fine.”

“May I explain?”

His eyelids slid down over his piercing blue eyes, then he nodded.

“There are a couple of sandwiches, some fruit, cookies and a pint of fresh milk to wash it all down. Please,” she said, picking up the basket and offering it to him.

He accepted it as if it were infested, then extended his hand toward the yard with a forced politeness. “Where shall we sit?”

“There's a table and benches in the garden where Richard and Grace eat some of their meals.”

“Very well.”

Hope stepped forward toward the picnic table and gripped her sides.
God give me strength.
Ian treated his dogs graciously…but her, not so much. She couldn't blame him. “As I said, I wanted to apologize. I'm sorry, there isn't an easy way to put this other than I didn't want to marry you.”

There, she'd said it. It wasn't very pretty but she'd admitted the truth. She had other dreams and desires, including falling in love with a man before she committed to live the rest of her life with him.

Ian gazed at her with those compelling eyes. “Ye letter stated as much. I came to America to begin me new life. I am the third son and as such I shall not inherit much land. In America I am able to have the land me sheep will need. I did not come for ye.”

Hope swallowed, closed her eyes and calmed herself. “I know I'm not doing this well but you have to understand, in America we pick our own spouses.” She opened her eyes. “And, well, I don't…didn't… I guess I don't like being told what to do.” She paused for a moment, collected her thoughts and continued. “I hope you will forgive me for sending you such a letter.”

Ian stared at the basket of food then glanced back at Hope. “Are ye wanting me to marry ye now?”

“No, of course not, no! I'm sorry. I only wanted you to know the truth. My parents didn't know that I'd sent you the letter, and after you arrived I told them, but this does not concern you.”

“I am no longer bound to ye?”

“No, ye are not,” she said, slipping into his brogue, the same as her parents'. “Sorry—you are not.”

Ian smiled. “I trust ye will find a good man one day.”

“Thank you, that is most kind. I never meant to hurt you.”

Ian shook his head. “Ye did not hurt me.”

Hope knitted her eyebrows.
Right, and it snows in Florida.
“What will you do now?”

“I purchased some land today. I'll be working on it for a while and then I'll purchase some sheep. I'm a shepherd.”

“Whose land, if you don't mind me asking?”

“William Sanders's. It's a fine piece of land. It needs work but it has good grassland and roots to feed me livestock. Unfortunately, the agreement doesn't include a house. But the barns and outer buildings will be mine.”

Hope relaxed. He was not as angry or as hurt as she'd expected him to be. “Are those sheepdogs?”

“Border collies. But yes, they work the sheep. Although the Irish sheepdog might do better in this Florida heat. They have less fur.”

Hope stood up. “I'll let you eat your meal in peace. Again, I am sorry.…”

He nodded. “Good day, Miss Lang.”

She could feel the tension in the air between them, but she knew there was nothing else to say. “I'm happy you found some land. God's blessings on you, Mr. McGrae.”

“And on ye, Miss Lang.”

Hope stepped up into her carriage and drove off. A weight had been lifted.

So why did she still feel burdened?

T
he boards in the wagon rattled. Ian slowed the horse down. A two-person buggy with a black canopy approached from the opposite direction, driven by a woman. Ian scooted over to the right. As the wagon drew closer he saw a crown of red hair. Ian's hands tightened on the reins.
Hope?

It had been a couple of days since he last saw her. She was a rare beauty with her red hair, green eyes and porcelain skin. Ian couldn't understand his mixed emotions regarding Hope. She could have been his…but neither of them had wanted the betrothal. Not that he'd confessed his own desire to end it.

The oncoming carriage slowed to a stop alongside his. The woman was not Hope, but an older version of her. This could be none other than Mrs. Sally Lang.

“Good morning…Mr. McGrae?” Mrs. Lang greeted him with a wave and a smile. “Hope told me ye purchased the Sanderses' place.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Lang?” He wanted to ask why she was out here. Was she trying to reactivate the betrothal?

“Aye, I did,” he responded instead.

“It's a fine day.” She glanced at the back end of his wagon. “Are ye buildin' something?”

“A room in the barn for a place to stay on me land.”

“Aye, 'tis a good thing to be close to yer work. I've been out visiting with Rosemarie Hastings.”

“I met her and her husband. They be kind folk.”

“That they be, Mr. McGrae. I won't keep ye. Have a good day.”

“And ye, Mrs. Lang.” She jiggled the reins and the horse obeyed.

Ian turned and watched as she drove past. The Langs were a curious lot. Ian took the reins and commanded the horse forward. Why did Mrs. Lang's apparent ease at conversing with him bother him? After all, she didn't know that he had planned on breaking the betrothal, as well.

Father, I don't understand. Help me get past this. Help me figure out why I'm reacting with such feelings
…

Back at the property, William Sanders came over and gave him a hand unloading the wagon. “The wife and I were wondering if you'd like to join us for dinner this evening.”

“Thank ye, that is most kind, but I'll be working 'til the sun goes down.”

“We can postpone dinner until then.”

“Thank ye. A home-cooked meal would be appreciated. Thank yer wife, too, please.”

William nodded. “What are you working on now?”

“I'm going to fashion a room of some sort in the barn so I won't need to keep paying room and board at the Seaside.”

William Sanders nodded. “I'm sorry the house didn't come with the agreement.”

“Ye gave me a fair price for the land without the house, I have no complaints. But I must be a wise servant with me funds. I shall not be making a profit for a couple of years, so I must be economical.”

William smiled. “You are a smart young man. I wish I'd been as wise when I was your age. Good day, sir.”

“Good day, and thank ye for the help.” Ian went back to work unloading the wagon.

By the end of the day he had put his tools away, washed up and joined the Sanderses in their kitchen for a hearty fried chicken dinner.

“This be some of the best fried chicken I've ever eaten, Mrs. Sanders.” In truth, he'd only had it once before, only just recently in St. Augustine. He was learning about the different foods in the area. “And these black-eyed peas… I've never had the like.”