“Ye’re a banker?” she asked, instantly regretting the doubt in her voice.
He chuckled. “I probably look more like a clerk, but I can assure ye I studied mathematics and law at King’s College in Aberdeen. Partners from the Dutch East India Company came to Scotland to recruit me. We Scots are renowned for managing money.”
The wink and naughty smile that accompanied his jest knocked her off balance. She pondered the reason he was divulging personal details. “Why did ye leave?”
“’Tis a long story,” he replied hoarsely between gritted teeth.
Clearly, one he didn’t want to tell.
His appearance was still a mystery. “My brother says I shouldna judge a man by his apparel.”
When the Guthrie house came into view, he paused and looked into her eyes. “He’s right. I hope ye’ll give me a chance, Jewel.”
She hadn’t said he could use her given name, and wasn’t sure if he meant he wanted to be friends, or more than friends. The sincerity burning in his gaze gave rise to a flush that prickled her nape and blossomed across her breasts. She searched for a safe topic of conversation. “Tell me about yer given name.”
“’Tis one of life’s eternal mysteries,” he quipped with a shrug. “As ye see, I’m nay a redhead. My mother assures me I was born with a mop of black hair. What about ye?”
She’d already allowed him to get too close. “A whim of my mother’s,” she lied, unhooking her arm from his.
Clues
Garnet bestowed a kiss on Jewel’s knuckles and reluctantly delivered her to the Guthrie house.
The scent of her warm skin lingered, but he was no closer to solving the riddle of her name and wasn’t completely certain why he was so preoccupied with the answer. Walking with her, their arms linked, had seemed right—made him feel like a worthy man again instead of a jittery fugitive. The occasional brush of her firm breast against his bicep had only intensified his interest.
She’d seemed as reluctant to part as he, but mayhap his male pride had led him to that assumption. A man liked to think a lass was attracted to him, although the last woman he’d pursued had ended up dead, an innocent victim of his persecutor’s wrath.
He shivered as a cloud stole the warmth of the sun. Those memories were best left in Amsterdam.
Donald and Michael hadn’t yet returned. Loath to spend the afternoon in the Cameron house, he decided to visit the encampment in the meadow. He despised what Murtagh and his cronies had done, but the man was probably worried about the pantomime at the castle. He had immediately sensed the need for subterfuge and come to Garnet’s rescue. Clearly familiar with Jewel, he would know the secret of her name. Better to stay on his good side and give no inkling of the resentment against Glenheath’s atrocities.
Hunger was another consideration. It was doubtful Mrs. Cameron would serve up a satisfying luncheon, whereas tempting aromas were already wafting in his direction.
He hesitated just before reaching the camp as unanswered questions niggled. How was it Jewel and her brother were being escorted from Ayrshire by Highlanders whom they clearly knew well? Who was Jewel? And what of the notion her mother was a thief? He thirsted to solve the riddle, but a nagging doubt warned he might not like the answers.
Gladys Cook prepared a luncheon of smoked ham, cheese and fresh bread. Jewel should have been hungry, but felt frustrated she was no closer to solving the enigma of Garnet Barclay.
“What do ye make of events at the castle?” Gray asked no one in particular.
“I felt badly for Murtagh,” Jewel replied, though she sensed that wasn’t what her brother was referring to. “He really wanted to revisit the cell.”
“I meant the unexpected advent of Barclay.”
“I’m glad he joined us,” Jane chimed in.
“I like him too,” Kate added.
Beatris eyed her girls nervously. “Aye, but he seemed uncomfortable with Mr. Cameron.”
Meaghan snorted, earning a scolding glare from her mother. “’Tis true,” she protested. “Even his own daughters are afraid of him. Maggie told me so.”
Jewel respected her father, and couldn’t imagine fearing him. Something else was bothering her. “He looked ill at ease with his friend, as well.”
“They are a strange lot,” Beatris agreed, “but then what can ye expect from religious zealots? We should be wary.”
Jewel felt a peculiar compulsion to defend Barclay. “I dinna believe Garnet is a zealot. He told me he studied mathematics and law at Aberdeen University.”
Gray gaped. “Really?”
“Aye. The Dutch East India Company recruited him. He recently arrived back from Rotterdam.”
“Hence the foreign clothing,” Gray replied. “Though the quality doesna bespeak a professional man. And the hat—definitely Nederlander!”
“Why did he come back?” Meaghan asked.
Jewel didn’t know, and Garnet had avoided the question. Instinct told her it would be wise not to find out, but she admitted inwardly it was unlikely she would pay any mind to her better judgement. Common sense recommended letting sleeping dogs lie, but her heart thirsted to uncover everything there was to know about the black-haired Highlander named for a red gemstone.
The men nodded greetings to Garnet as he entered the camp, but his arrival didn’t create the same reaction as the first time he’d gone there. It was typical he’d been accepted simply because he was a Highlander.
Murtagh was busy at the spit, so he sought out Jock who was bent over, examining the hoof of a horse’s foreleg. “Can I give ye a hand?” he asked.
Jock kept his head down. “Ken a thing or two about horses, do ye?” he asked skeptically.
“Aye,” Garnet replied. “Especially about the reasons they sometimes go lame when there’s naught wrong with the shoe.”
The auld fella set the hoof down on the packed earth and scratched his head. “What do ye reckon?”
Garnet walked around the animal, then hunkered down and ran a hand over the foreleg. “’Tis inflamed. Ye need to apply compresses or he’ll nay weather the journey north.”
Jock stroked his beard. “Scepter isna used to long days of riding. He’s Lady Jewel’s horse. She might not be making the journey with us, though she’s set on visiting Dunnottar.”
Feigning a lack of interest, Garnet stood. “Nevertheless, hot compresses followed by cold. Then a liniment, and lastly a mustard poultice.”
Scepter whinnied, as if in agreement with his recommendations.
A shout alerted them the food was ready.
Jock repeated the list of treatments as soon as he reached Murtagh.
Garnet expected his opinion to count for very little and was surprised by Murtagh’s reply. “I’ll boil water for the hot compresses. Ye’ll find liniment and the other things ye need in my saddlebags.”
“Ye carry liniment?” Garnet asked, wishing he hadn’t when Murtagh scowled.
“Having spent most of my days as a blacksmith, I’ve seen horses go lame on many a trek. ’Tis as well to be prepared. I’d a suspicion Scepter wouldna be fit enough.”
Garnet had forgotten he was dealing with a veteran of clandestine warfare who’d traversed the length and breadth of Scotland. His assumption Murtagh was a mere cook had also been foolish.
“He’s doctored folk, as well as horses,” Jock chortled, his mouth full of fried fish. “Just ask Colonel Pendray.”
When Murtagh scowled at him, he cringed and shuffled off to another camp stool.
Garnet had just been given another clue, but wasn’t sure what it meant, and why Jewel was keen on visiting a ruined castle near Stonehyve.
Give Me A Chance
After luncheon, Jewel convinced Gray they should press their case with Murtagh about going on to Dunnottar. She hurried to her room where she donned trouzes and shirt. There was no point binding her breasts, since everyone now knew she was female.
A chill settled on her nape when they reached the camp and she saw Garnet tendin
g Scepter’s foreleg. Jock was holding tight to her beloved horse’s halter as he snorted and shied. “Stop that,” she shouted as they hurried to see what was happening. “Ye’re hurting him.”
The infuriating man didn’t even look up. “The hot compress is a necessary evil, unless ye want him to be permanently lame.”
Her throat tightened. She couldn’t bear to see Scepter in distress. “I dinna understand.”
“’Tis an inflammation,” Garnet explained. “I’d wager he’s nay used to long journeys over uncertain terrain.”
Guilt washed over her. She was the one who’d insisted Scepter make the trek.
Murtagh joined them and put an arm around her shoulders. “Dinna fash. Barclay has the matter in hand. Let him heal yer horse or he’ll nay make it to Dunnottar.”
“Ye were right,” she confessed, burying her head against his shoulder. “I was pigheaded…” She looked up at his inscrutable bearded face. “Wait! What did ye say?”
Gray chuckled. “I believe we’re going into the Highlands.”
Murtagh nodded. “Aye, ye are obstinate, but yer father left it up to me to decide if ye journeyed on. He thought ye’d be bored with traveling by the time we reached Edinburgh.”
“Nay,” she exclaimed, hugging Murtagh. “Thank ye.”
“Just one thing I hafta tell ye,” he replied. “Mr. Barclay and his friend are coming with us, as far as Blairgowrie.”
Garnet chose that moment to look up from his task, clearly wanting to see her reaction. Her heart was beating so loudly, she was afraid he could hear. But she was uneasy about his friend. “Donald, ye mean.”
“Aye,” Garnet confirmed as he stood, stroking the gelding’s nose. “Ye needn’t worry. He’s a good man. Think on it—Garnet and Jewel and a horse named Scepter will venture into the Highlands.”
She smiled weakly, wondering how long it would take him to figure out her father’s identity and why she’d given every horse she’d ever ridden the same name. Feeling off balance, she asked, “Do ye think he’ll be recovered sufficiently to travel?”
“I’ll do my best,” he promised. “If ye’ll give me a chance.”
More confused than ever by this second request to trust him, she leaned her forehead against Scepter’s neck and whispered, “Ye’re in good hands.”
Garnet’s answering smile sent tiny winged creatures fluttering in her belly, robbing her of the ability to think of anything but the gleam in his blue eyes. She’d seen that lustful look before in men’s eyes and found it offensive. Now, excited that he clearly found her attractive, she preened and returned his smile, then linked arms with Gray and dragged her brother back to the house.
“Jewel and Garnet and a horse named Scepter,” Gray mimicked when they were far enough away not to be overheard.
Fanning her face with one hand, she glared at him. “Just dinna reveal yer gelding is named Crown.”
“Ye’re like a nervous filly,” he complained. “Why are you worried he’ll find out who we are?”
“Because he’s a guest in the home of Richard Cameron’s brother.”
“I dinna think she’s very pleased I’m to travel with ye,” Garnet said to Murtagh as he stood, satisfied the compress was secure.
“Ye’re wrong.”
“What makes ye believe that?”
“I’ve known Jewel all her life. I watched her grow from a wee babe to the bonnie lass ye met today. She’s drawn to ye.” He winked. “In the way a woman is drawn to a man, if ye get my drift.”
A warm contentment blossomed in Garnet’s heart, but he had to be wary. He’d sworn to kill the man sharing these confidences. “She barely knows me,” he replied.
“The same could be said of ye, but ye’re drawn to her if I’m nay mistaken.”
Garnet couldn’t deny it. “And how do ye ken I’m nay just a philandering ne’er-do-well?”
“Because I’m a good judge of character. Ye’re an honorable mon. I sense ye harbor secrets that in time ye’ll confide to Jewel, and she’ll eventually tell ye what ye want to know about her.”
Gooseflesh marched up Garnet’s spine. Murtagh had seen into his soul.
“Ye’ve a good heart, but be assured I’ll kill ye slowly if ye do aught to harm her.”
Confused emotions swirled in that supposedly good heart. The Highlander had obviously contrived to bring him and Jewel together—an unlikely matchmaker. He shouldn’t feel guilty, but he did and it annoyed him.
“What do ye suppose Cameron and yer friend were doing at the castle?” Murtagh asked.
Garnet knew the question would arise eventually. “Aye. About that. I thank ye for playing along. I admit I was surprised to see them. ’Tis the second time I know of that they’ve gone there.”
“I hope they dinna intend to steal horses from the stables behind the barracks.”
Straight to the crux of the matter, as usual.
“The thought crossed my mind. They weren’t happy to see me.”
Murtagh clamped a beefy hand on his shoulder. “Best keep an eye on yer friend. I dinna trust him.”
The irony that he was the one not to be trusted struck Garnet full force as he watched the blacksmith saunter away.
“Come along,” Beatris insisted when Jewel and her brother reached the house. “There isna much time to get ready.”
“For what?” Gray asked.
“The reception,” Quinn replied. “I came home to fetch ye.”
“I thought ’twas in the evening,” Jewel replied.
Quinn shook his head. “The High Kirk frowns on such events being held at night. Folk should be home with their bairns.”
“I recall Papa telling us something of the sort when he and Mam got married. The banquet was in the afternoon,” Gray said.
Panic seized Jewel as she hurried to the stairs. “But I havna picked out which gown to wear, and my hair…”
“We have two hours,” Beatris replied, following behind Jewel. “Plenty of time.”
Gray rolled his eyes. “Not for my sister. When we were in Whitehall, she took a notion to experiment with the silly beauty spots courtesans stuck on their faces. Took ages for her to get ready, then Mam insisted she peel them off.”
Jewel fumed that her brother had mentioned the episode, but it brought home to her that she’d matured in the year since Whitehall. “I agree ’twas a foolish whim, but…”
Beatris came to her defense. “Naught amiss with trying new things. Ye’ll see the self same patches on some of the ladies this afternoon, but I suspect most of them are covering blemishes. Ye’ve no need to do that.”
“One more thing,” Quinn shouted from the bottom of the stairs. “My responsibilities at the reception preclude my escorting my wife, so I’ll ask ye to do the honors, Gray.”
“But what about me?” Jewel protested as she hurried into Beatris’ chamber, surprised to see the three girls perched on the bed, clearly excited to watch the preparations.
“Quinn thought he’d ask Garnet Barclay to escort ye,” her cousin replied, slamming the door.
“He’s handsome,” Jane said.
Jewel agreed, and in other circumstances she’d be thrilled to have Garnet as her escort, but his clothes…
“Quinn’s hoping he’ll accept the loan of a great kilt.”
Garnet eyed the tall, well-dressed man making his way towards the encampment followed by a youth laden down with plaids. “Who’s this?” he asked Jock.
“Mr. Guthrie.”
His curiosity grew when Guthrie paused to speak with Murtagh and both men looked his way, clearly discussing him. He strode to shake hands with Beatris’ husband. “Garnet Barclay,” he said. “Ye’ve a bonnie family.”
“Quinn,” Guthrie replied. “Aye. I’m a lucky mon.”
Garnet’s throat constricted unexpectedly. He’d hoped to sire a family in Amsterdam, but that future had been cruelly torn away. He didn’t know what awaited him at Blairgowrie.
He frowned at the clothing in the youth�
��s arms.
A hint of nervousness flickered in the visitor’s eyes. “I would consider it a favor if ye’d escort Lady Jewel to a reception at the castle this afternoon. I canna escort my wife since I work for the Privy Council and I have duties, so I asked Gray to escort Beatris, and thus Jewel has no escort, and I thought since Guthrie homelands are nay far from Barclay lands, and both wear great kilts and plaids of a similar Highland weave…”
Garnet narrowed his eyes as the man at last paused for breath. He had an urge to fall to his knees in thanksgiving for the opportunity. Being rid of the Dutch clothing and wearing the plaid of a proud neighboring clan was an unexpected boon; the prospect of entering the Great Hall of Edinburgh Castle with Jewel on his arm filled him with pride—an echo of his former social standing.
The pleasant stirrings in his groin convinced him to accept. “I’d be honored,” he said.
Quinn smiled with obvious relief and gestured to the youth. “I brought a shirt and doublet too. Andrew can be yer valet if ye wish.”
“Use my tent,” Murtagh shouted, leading Garnet to wonder if the blacksmith had suggested him as Jewel’s escort.
“I thank ye,” he told Quinn. “I might need Andrew’s help. ’Tis a while since I wrestled myself into a great kilt.”
Reception
Spending nigh on two hours getting ready for the reception convinced Jewel men’s lives were infinitely less complicated. She knew Gray and Quinn paced impatiently downstairs. It wasn’t the first time she’d dressed for an elegant affair, but her maid never fussed over the preparations as much as Beatris. Her cousin sewed her into the borrowed gown, pinned up her hair and selected the best coif, wadded shoes to fit perfectly, applied a hint of rouge and lipstick, and tried one piece of jewelry after another before deciding none was needed. Jewel marveled that her cousin managed to accomplish all this while getting herself ready at the same time. She admired the way Beatris consulted the three lasses about every aspect of the preparations and showed respect for her daughters’ opinions.
Highland Jewel (The House of Pendray Book 3) Page 7