Anne here, and today I'm interviewing Mary Jo about ONCE A LAIRD, her final book in the "Rogues Redeemed" series, which was based around five men held captive in a cellar in wartime, facing execution as spies in the morning. Of course they escaped and lived to tell some wonderful tales. (Ramsay was using the name Chantry at that time for various sneaky reasons.)
Once a Laird is about Ramsay, who made the biggest impression on me in Once a Scoundrel, where he was instrumental in freeing three ladies from a harem in Constantinople after they'd been taken hostage by Barbary pirates. I've been waiting for his story ever since.
There have been some lovely reviews of Once a Laird." Here's one from Booklist:
"In the latest splendidly crafted addition to her Rogues Redeemed series, Putney (Once Dishonored, 2020) brilliantly utilizes all of the key elements her readers crave—engaging characters, an expertly evoked setting, an intriguingly different story line, even a quintessential cat—and the result is another exemplary-in-every-way romance.” – Booklist
A 5 star review from Huntress Reviews:
"I have not read such a wonderfully descriptive story in quite a while. I was hooked on the very first page. The author describes the people so well that when Duncan passes away, I was near tears. The character of Signy may be the artist, but Mary Jo Putney paints vivid pictures with her wording. I could clearly see the landscape, cliffs, and ruins in my mind. I found it to be utterly breathtaking. Romance, duty, and some danger blend together perfectly. This tale will keep you awake long past your bedtime. I cannot express how much I enjoyed this novel."
Detra Fitch of Huntress Reviews
Anne: Since the death of his fiancée twelve years ago, Ramsay has traveled in far flung lands, following his passion for antiquities and working undercover for the British Embassy in the diplomatic "special operations" section — in other words as a spy/troubleshooter. But now his grandfather is dying, and the time has come for Ramsay to return home to the small Scottish island realm of Thorsay, and take up his duty as the new Laird.
What does Ramsay find when he arrives on Thorsay?
Mary Jo: Ramsay has a lot of ambivalence. Though Thorsay is as familiar as the palm of his own hand, he's been away for a dozen years, researching ancient ruins and writing articles and living a very different life. He'd promised to return to take up his leadership role and he's not one to turn away from his responsibilities, but he isn't sure how well he'll fit into his old life. He rather expects to be bored. He's not. <G>
Anne: Signy Matheson, our heroine, is the younger sister of Ramsay's late fiancée. She's twenty-seven, single and no pushover. Tell us about Signy.
Mary Jo: Signy is another one who takes her responsibilities seriously. She'd come from Norway as a child with her widowed mother and older sister, and all three of them were teachers. After the deaths of her mother and sister, she's taken in by Duncan, the old laird, and she became his right hand woman as his health declined. She's virtually running Thorsay when Ramsay returns, but she's had to put aside her own dreams of traveling and seriously studying art. She'll help Ramsay settle in, but she craves the freedom to leave and see more of the world.
(The image below is from the Hoxa Tapestry Gallery in Orkney, which features the tapestries, rugs, and paintings of the mother and daughter artists Sheila and Jo Thomson. Their marvelous work is the inspiration for Signy's art.)
Anne: My Milly-dog was very pleased that there was a heroic dog, Fiona, in the story, and a horse, Thor, which she thought was a very nice change from the apparently ubiquitous cats. (Sorry, she's a bit cattist.) <g>
Mary Jo: Silly Milly! Hasn't she ever heard that "Dogs drool while cats rule?" <G> That
said, Fiona is a very fine dog. The ubiquitous cat in this case belongs to the Laird and is a large gray tom with one eye. Naturally he's named for Odin, the one eyed chief of the Nordic gods. He's modeled after my own much missed Grady the Grey. (Though Grady had two eyes as you can see in the picture on the right. He was a great cat!)
Anne: Now to research. Many writers have to research from books or on line — you did yours in person. Tell us about your inspiration for the Thorsay Island setting, and the archaeological finds that take place in the book.
Mary Jo: I also do much of my research from books and online and if possible, talking to people who have had real life experience of the subject. But a couple of times I've been so struck by a place I visited that I just had to conjure a story that fits that setting.
The first time was visiting Portugal, which inspired Once a Soldier. This time it was visiting Orkney. We had great weather and a great guide, and to add to the fun I was traveling with Pat Rice and both of our husbands. (On the left is a picture of me by one of the Standing Stones of Stenness. These monoliths were just there, right by the road!)
Orkney is the site of an amazing number of Neolithic ruins. There were stone monuments and tombs and ancient dwellings all over the place. Most notable is Skara Brae, the most complete Neolithic village in Northern Europe. It was discovered when a storm swept away a chunk of sandy coastline, an event I shamelessly stole for my story. I also borrowed from the real Sutton Hoo ship burial, which is in Suffolk, England. Given Ramsay's interest in ancient artifacts, I had to give him enough to keep him interested!
Anne: I really liked your author's note at the end of the book, too. And if people are interested in reading more about your travels in Orkney, there are two wench posts here — one from Mary Jo and one from Pat.
Could you give us a short excerpt from Once a Laird, please?
Mary Jo: This is from the very beginning of the story:
Chapter 1
British Embassy
Constantinople
The letter was dirty and folded, not surprising considering how far it had come. Ramsay was reluctant to break the seal because he had a strong suspicion what it would say. He was right.
The letter was addressed to Kai Douglas Ramsay and said tersely:
Kai,
Time to stop playing around and come home, laddie boy. Your grandfather is dying. He may be swilling ale in Valhalla by the time you get this. You know the price you promised to pay for your footloose wandering. Now the bill has come due.
Signy Matheson
Skellig House
Mainland, Thorsay
Scotland
Of course it would be Signy who was writing him. Only islanders he’d known as a boy would call him Kai. Signy had become his grandfather’s deputy as well as being the head schoolmistress in the islands. Ramsay smiled a little, remembering her as a knobby-kneed girl with a tongue that could flay a whale when she was in a critical mood. She was the younger sister of Gisela, his first and only love.
His smile faded. After laying the letter on his desk, he moved to the window and gazed out at the domes and minarets of Constantinople, which were visible above the walls that surrounded the British Embassy compound. He’d spent five years here, the longest time he’d lingered anywhere in his wandering years.
His official position was Under Secretary for Special Projects, a vague enough title to cover his various nefarious activities. With all the layers of history in Constantinople, he could spend a lifetime here and barely scratch the wonders of this city and this land.
It was hard to imagine a place more different from the far northern islands of his homeland. But Ramsay had always known his time here was limited. He might have stayed in Thorsay if Gisela hadn’t died suddenly of a fever when he was finishing his studies at the University of Edinburgh. The pain was so numbing that he’d been unable to bear the thought of returning to the islands.
His grandfather, the wily old devil, had known how Ramsay would feel. After giving the news of Gisela’s death, the laird had said that Ramsay could feed his wanderlust until his grandfather died or was near death. Then he must come home to assume his responsibilities as Laird of Thorsay
Ramsay has seized on the proffered bargain, both because he couldn’t imagine returning to Thorsay with Gisela gone and because he’d yearned to visit distant lands and study ancient ruins. He’d had a dozen years of that freedom and had managed not to get himself killed, though it had been a near-run thing more than once.
That led him to thoughts of a certain cellar in Portugal where he’d been held captive with four other men as they drank bad brandy and waited to be executed at dawn. But the five of them had worked together to escape and made a pact to meet up again after the war if they survived. Now Napoleon was gone for good, exiled to a bleak rock in the South Atlantic to rule over the seabirds, and perhaps that reunion would be possible.
How many of the men who had been in that cellar were still among the living? They’d all been leading risky lives. When Ramsay traveled through London on his way home, he could check for letters at Hatchard’s Bookshop, which had been their chosen venue to exchange information.
Ramsay forced his wandering mind back to practical matters. Though he’d wished this day would never come, he’d been mentally preparing. It was time to make the long journey through the Mediterranean, west around the Iberian Peninsula, then north through the English Channel and North Sea to Thorsay.
The three island groups north of Scotland were due west of Norway, closer to Oslo than London. Orkney was visible, barely, from the northernmost coast of mainland Scotland. Thorsay lay beyond, and far-flung Shetland was most northerly. All three archipelagos were inhabited by tough, stubborn islanders whose first language was Norn, a Scandinavian dialect. Over the centuries, Gaelic-speaking Celts had also settled on the islands, and even a few English. No wonder the Thorseach, the people of his islands, were good with languages.
* * *
Ramsay’s voyage home benefited from fair winds and was swifter than expected. The light became bluer and the winds more chill as he traveled north. By the time he reached London, Constantinople was only a distant sunburned memory.
He spent several days in London attending to business and staying at Thorsay House, which was owned by the Laird of Thorsay. The Browns, the couple who maintained the house, hadn’t heard that the old Laird was dead, so perhaps Ramsay’s grandfather was still holding on.
Thorsay House served as a way station for traveling Thorsayians. Ramsay found that he’d just missed a favorite cousin, Kendra Douglas, who had taken refuge in the house after a disastrous scandal. As a girl, she’d been a lively little thing. He’d taught her and Signy Matheson and several other younger children the basics of fencing.
He stopped at Hatchard’s and found a trove of letters from the Rogues Redeemed of the Portuguese cellar. Impressively, they all had survived the wars, and while he was in London, he managed to dine with one of the men, named Hawkins, and his intrepid wife, Lady Rory. Then he set sail again, first to Edinburgh and finally, on a small coastal trading vessel, the last stretch to Thorsay.
Ramsay spent much of this last leg of his long journey in the bow of the boat, feeling an unnerving sense of homecoming. The silvery seas and austere scattered islands seemed to be bred into his bones despite his reluctance to return.
When the vessel finally moored at the pier below Skellig House, Ramsay left the deckhands to unload his luggage. Personal possessions were few, but there were a fair number of the best ancient artifacts he'd found.
Impatiently he climbed the hill to the Ramsay family home. Skellig House was a low sprawling stone structure designed to stand against the fiercest winds off the North Sea. In the distance beyond, he could just see one of the circle of towering stone monoliths erected by the ancient inhabitants of these islands.
Nothing seemed to have changed in the dozen years since he’d left. His pace quickened as he wondered whether his grandfather still lived.
As he approached the entrance to the house, the door swung open and someone stepped out, his gaze turned toward Ramsay. No, not a man but a tall woman—that was clear from the way the wind shaped her gray gown around an undeniably female figure. The same wind rippled her blazing red-gold hair like a banner of war.
She brushed her wind-whipped hair from her face and said in a voice colder than an Arctic gale, “What took you so long, Kai?”
He stopped dead in his tracks and stared. In the years he’d been gone, bony little Signy Matheson had become a damned Nordic goddess!
Anne: Thank you. Mary Jo is giving away a copy of Once a Laird to someone who leaves a comment or answers this question: which would you rather visit — Constantinople (now called Istanbul) or the Orkney Islands in Scotland, and why?
You can buy Once a Laird from Amazon or from this universal link, which will take you to the e-retailer of your preference.