Read Online In Your Wildest Scottish Dreams by Karen Ranney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Karen Ranney
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their wives and their judgment. Nor did he understand a diplomat’s position was to listen more than speak.
A lesson Lucy Whittaker could learn as well.
Glynis couldn’t wait until the day was over.
D UNCAN M AC I AIN walked to the window and stared out at the mill buildings stretching before him. His great-grandfather had built this empire and it flourished until two years ago.
“You can never forget you hold the lives of these people in your hand, Duncan,” his father once told him. “Every decision you make affects them. You may feel like king of the mountain here, but like leading a clan into battle, your actions have consequences.”
He’d been a boy at the time, amused at his father’s metaphor. Having been the head of MacIain Mill for the last five years, he now realized the comparison was apt. Every change he instituted affected not only himself and his family but the hundreds of people who worked for him.
Having to lay off a third of the employees had been difficult, but he’d originally hoped it would be enough to keep the mill open. They were still doomed, not because of the competition from Manchester or the loss of the contract for wicking. He couldn’t get any raw material. He couldn’t loom nonexistent cotton.
His father had had a way of looking at everythingin the best possible light. “Duncan, my boy,” he’d say, “there’s nothing so bad that you can’t find some good in it.”
He was trying to find something to celebrate in this situation but hadn’t come up with anything. Nor did he have any solutions. Short of sailing to America himself, he was out of ideas. He’d rejected every idea but one because it didn’t produce the one thing he needed: cotton.
For a while he’d seriously contemplated Lennox’s offer of help. If he took money from the other man, it would forever alter their friendship, and he didn’t have all that many friends left.
The idea of closing the mill and turning his back on his family’s business, one he’d learned since boyhood, was anathema to him. He liked that, in busier times, the floor of his office vibrated with the clacking rhythm of hundreds of looms. Their cotton was the finest in Scotland, just as each employee at MacIain Mill, all seven hundred sixty-three of them, were the most dedicated and loyal in Glasgow.
Coming into the mill each day was an indictment, a demonstration of his failure. If he didn’t do something, every single person would be gone, the mill shuttered, the windows boarded up, and the doors chained.
What would his father think of his plan, even now growing more substantial? Something Lennox said had started his thoughts in that direction.
Sometimes, bold action was required. He was a MacIain, a family heralded for their courage.
It was time he acted the part.
G AVIN W HITTAKER stood on the dock, staring at the ship soon to be his. The Raven was the most beautiful vessel he’d ever seen.
Her twin smokestacks were painted gray, her hullthe same color, with a black line indicating where the cladding began. An iron and steel paddle wheeler, she had a length of nearly three hundred feet and an eleven-foot draft. She could carry a crew of sixty-six, had five watertight compartments and four boilers. Fully loaded, she could still outrun anything sailing today.
Wait until they encountered the blockade. She’d fly right past the Union bastards. No one would forget her once they saw her lines or her speed.
Too bad they’d already named her Raven. Gavin would have christened her “Ghost,” because he intended to slip past the Union blockade just like an ethereal being.
His life, his honor, his single-minded purpose, was wrapped up in this ship.
A damned shame so much deception had to be part of the initial voyage. When he sailed from Glasgow, his destination would officially be listed as Bermuda. A few Scots would accompany him to Wales, where he’d rendezvous with his Confederate crew. After their cargo was loaded
A lesson Lucy Whittaker could learn as well.
Glynis couldn’t wait until the day was over.
D UNCAN M AC I AIN walked to the window and stared out at the mill buildings stretching before him. His great-grandfather had built this empire and it flourished until two years ago.
“You can never forget you hold the lives of these people in your hand, Duncan,” his father once told him. “Every decision you make affects them. You may feel like king of the mountain here, but like leading a clan into battle, your actions have consequences.”
He’d been a boy at the time, amused at his father’s metaphor. Having been the head of MacIain Mill for the last five years, he now realized the comparison was apt. Every change he instituted affected not only himself and his family but the hundreds of people who worked for him.
Having to lay off a third of the employees had been difficult, but he’d originally hoped it would be enough to keep the mill open. They were still doomed, not because of the competition from Manchester or the loss of the contract for wicking. He couldn’t get any raw material. He couldn’t loom nonexistent cotton.
His father had had a way of looking at everythingin the best possible light. “Duncan, my boy,” he’d say, “there’s nothing so bad that you can’t find some good in it.”
He was trying to find something to celebrate in this situation but hadn’t come up with anything. Nor did he have any solutions. Short of sailing to America himself, he was out of ideas. He’d rejected every idea but one because it didn’t produce the one thing he needed: cotton.
For a while he’d seriously contemplated Lennox’s offer of help. If he took money from the other man, it would forever alter their friendship, and he didn’t have all that many friends left.
The idea of closing the mill and turning his back on his family’s business, one he’d learned since boyhood, was anathema to him. He liked that, in busier times, the floor of his office vibrated with the clacking rhythm of hundreds of looms. Their cotton was the finest in Scotland, just as each employee at MacIain Mill, all seven hundred sixty-three of them, were the most dedicated and loyal in Glasgow.
Coming into the mill each day was an indictment, a demonstration of his failure. If he didn’t do something, every single person would be gone, the mill shuttered, the windows boarded up, and the doors chained.
What would his father think of his plan, even now growing more substantial? Something Lennox said had started his thoughts in that direction.
Sometimes, bold action was required. He was a MacIain, a family heralded for their courage.
It was time he acted the part.
G AVIN W HITTAKER stood on the dock, staring at the ship soon to be his. The Raven was the most beautiful vessel he’d ever seen.
Her twin smokestacks were painted gray, her hullthe same color, with a black line indicating where the cladding began. An iron and steel paddle wheeler, she had a length of nearly three hundred feet and an eleven-foot draft. She could carry a crew of sixty-six, had five watertight compartments and four boilers. Fully loaded, she could still outrun anything sailing today.
Wait until they encountered the blockade. She’d fly right past the Union bastards. No one would forget her once they saw her lines or her speed.
Too bad they’d already named her Raven. Gavin would have christened her “Ghost,” because he intended to slip past the Union blockade just like an ethereal being.
His life, his honor, his single-minded purpose, was wrapped up in this ship.
A damned shame so much deception had to be part of the initial voyage. When he sailed from Glasgow, his destination would officially be listed as Bermuda. A few Scots would accompany him to Wales, where he’d rendezvous with his Confederate crew. After their cargo was loaded
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