“Mmphm.” Jamie knew he was beaten, but he wasn’t surrendering just yet. “And how d’ye mean to guarantee their good behavior, a bhana-mhaighister?”

An inaudible but clear vibration that might have been amusement ran through the older ladies, though it vanished in an instant when Harriet turned her head to look over her shoulder at them. When she turned back, her eyes were fixed on me, not Jamie, which gave me a start.

“I’d suppose your wife could answer that for ye, Laird,” she said circumspectly, and let the corner of her mouth tuck in for a moment. Her gaze dropped to Jamie again. “None of the men can cook. But if ye dinna trust what a wife might do to a husband who’s taken the house from over her head and the food out of her bairns’ mouths … perhaps ye can imagine what the brothers and sons of those wives might do to him. If ye’d like me to have my lads come and swear that same oath to ye …”

“No,” he said, very dryly. “I’m no a man to discount an honest woman’s word.” He looked over the crowd, slowly, and sighed, putting his hands flat on the desk.

“Aye. Well, then. This is what I’ll do. I will revoke the letter of banishment—for your husbands—but the contracts I made with them as tenants remain void. And you’ll send your husbands to me, to swear their fealty. I willna have men on my land that may plot against me.

“But I shall write new contracts, between myself and each of you ladies, for the tenancy of the land and buildings ye live in, in witness of the faithfulness of … ehm … of your faithful husbandry of the same.” A definite titter ran through the room, and I smiled, despite the seriousness of the situation.

Jamie didn’t laugh, but leaned forward, fixing each woman in turn with his eyes.

“Mind, this means that each of ye—each one, I say—is responsible for the rents and other terms of her contract. If ye want to accept your husbands’ advice and help, that’s well and good—but the land is yours, not his, and if he should prove false, either to you or to me, he’ll answer for it to me, even unto death.”

Harriet nodded gravely.

“We agree, my laird. We’re most grateful for your kind forbearance—and even more grateful to God that He’s let us save ye from the guilt of putting women and children out to starve.” She dropped him a deep curtsy, then turned and went out, leaving her followers to curtsy to him, each in turn, and murmur their thanks to their speechless, red-eared landlord.

THEY LEFT, MURMURING to one another in excitement and leaving the door open, as they’d found it. A cool breeze came down the hallway, carrying the ghost of lye soap.

I put my hands on Jamie’s shoulders. Hard as rocks, and so were the columns of his neck, under my thumbs.