by Amy Jarecki
“I purchased him from Sam.”
Janet gaped, looking unamused. “But—”
Robert patted her hand. “I gave my approval this afternoon.”
His wife looked none too impressed. Ciar stood between the overactive tail and Her Ladyship. “You what—?” asked Janet.
Robert gave her a wink. “Not to worry. He’ll manage the trip to Glenmoriston just fine.”
Janet dramatically swept a hand across her brow. “Lord save the rabbits.”
“If he chases them, we’ll put a lead on him. Besides, once he tires, they will no longer tempt him.” Robert prodded his sister’s shoulder. “What say you, Emma? Are you happy with the dog?”
She scrubbed her fingers through Albert’s shiny black coat. “He’s truly mine?”
“Aye, and I reckon he’s as thrilled about it as you are—mayhap more so.” Ciar lightly brushed her hand as he’d always done to let her know where he stood, though now touching her silken skin made his heart skip a damned beat. “Shall we take him for a wee stroll?”
“But the meal is about to be served,” said Janet.
“We’ll just venture down to the river and back. We shan’t be but a moment.”
Emma took his hand and rose as she clutched the lead. “Aye, we must go. Albert will adore it.”
“We’ll save you some pork should it be ready before your return,” said Robert.
Janet waggled her finger at Ciar. “Stay in sight, mind you. No ducking around hedges. Lord only knows what other beasties Emma will fall in love with.”
He gave her a salute. Now she was a married matron, he mustn’t let her get away with too much sauciness. “Yes, m’lady.”
Emma started off in the general direction. “Come, Albert, to the river.”
The dog stayed at her side, looking up at her as if he’d understood the command. Nonetheless, Ciar hastened to catch up. “Are you confident minding the lead?”
“Thus far. At home I’m so familiar with the grounds I ought to be able to take him for walks on my own.”
“You’d like that, would you not?”
“Very much.”
Albert surged ahead, straining the lead and making choking noises.
“When he does that give him a tug and say, ‘come behind.’”
Emma complied. “Come behind,” she said in a stern voice.
“Excellent way to assert yourself and take command. Have you trained a dog before?”
“We had deerhounds when I was a child. Da spoke sternly when ordering them about, and they behaved quite well. He always said a dog responds to one’s tone of voice.”
“Smart of him.” Ciar brushed the tips of his fingers across the ends of the lass’s long tresses. She’d worn them down this eve, pulled away from her face by a jeweled comb—such a simple but bonny style. “Albert walks well at heel for a pup. I wonder if he knows any other commands.”
Emma stopped and gave the lead a tug. “Sit.”
The dog immediately sat and looked up at her, wagging his tail.
She scratched him behind the ears. “Good boy.”
“How about ‘stay’?” Ciar asked.
“Albert, stay,” she said, walking out to the end of the lead, but as soon as she stopped he ran to her.
“You’ll have to work with him on that one.” Ciar moved beside them. “Are you still confident with walking him?”
“As long as the ground is smooth and there are no obstacles between here and the river.”
“’Tis smooth grassland, mowed by Lochiel’s sheep.”
“Then I’d like to walk him. It makes me feel independent.”
“I’m glad of it.”
As he eased beside her, Ciar’s jaw twitched. Independence was something he took for granted. What must things be like for her, trapped in darkness every day? She certainly coped well—better than many sighted people. And she was always so unabashedly happy.
He glanced over his shoulder. He doubted anyone was within earshot, but he checked all the same. “I must apologize about last eve. It was not my intention to put you in a…ah…compromising situation.”
“I ken.” She looked directly at his eyes. Almost. “Though I’m not sorry about it at all.”
With her laugh, Albert started to run, pulling her toward the river.
Ciar followed, ready to pounce on the dog if need be. “Call him to heel!”
“Are we nearly to the shore?”
“Too bloody close to the shore!”
She pulled on the lead. “Come behind.”
But she was too late. The mongrel leaped into the water, tugging the poor shrieking lass along with him.
“Emma!” Ciar hollered, dashing into the swells, watching her falter.
With one more step, he swept her into his arms as she howled. “Are you hurt?”
The lass threw back her head and kicked her legs, laughing outrageously. “N-n-naaaaaay!”
The dog splashed around them, yipping as if he’d just caught a fish.
“I fail to see what’s so funny.” Ciar tightened his grip, raising her beyond the reach of Albert’s splashing. “You could have been completely doused.”
“But I wasn’t. Did you see us? It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.”
“Och aye, terrifying for me.”
“Oh? I thought you were a braw chieftain, afraid of nothing.”
“Aye, except young dogs hauling blind women into a raging river.”
“The current doesn’t seem bad.”
“You wouldn’t think the same if he’d pulled you all the way out to the middle. And there are rapids yonder. You could have been hurt.”
She thwacked his chest. “And here I thought you had an adventurer’s sprit.”
He gave her a look and then burst out laughing himself. Of all the men he knew, he was the most likely to go on an adventure—mayhap barring Kennan Cameron.
“See? I believe this is the most fun I’ve had since…” A wicked expression crossed her face as her teeth coyly bit her bottom lip. “Since last eve.”
Ciar glanced down. Must her face be so radiantly beautiful? God, if Janet and Robert weren’t surely watching, he’d kiss Emma again and again…and again. “Och. Fun, aye? We are standing in knee-deep water and Albert has wound the lead around my legs so tightly if I take a step we’ll both crash into the river.”
“Bad Albert.”
“He’s wagging his tail.”
“Ha!” Emma giggled again. “Whatever should we do?”
“Unwinding is the only option.” He pulled her tightly against his chest. “Are you ready?”
“To spin?”
“You want to spin, aye?” he asked, whirling in place to the sound of her jubilant howls of joy while the water dog barked and splashed.
“Leave it to you to make a simple stroll to the river complicated,” boomed a humorless voice.
Stopping, Ciar instantly recognized Grant’s deep bass. And he sounded about as amused as a vicar pontificating Sunday’s sermon.
Ciar took a step toward the shore, except his ankle was entwined with the dog’s lead. Stumbling, he cradled Emma as he twisted to protect her from hitting any rocks. Down he fell while they both hollered.
Kersplash!
Something hard jabbed him in the backside as water doused them both. Howling with laughter, Emma squirmed, her elbow smacking him in the jaw. Ciar straightened his arms, keeping her above the water. “I have you.”
“Yes, you do,” said Robert. “Far too much of her, I’m afraid.”
“Let go of the lead,” Ciar said, gaining a foothold and standing.
Emma was still laughing as he set her down on the shore. “Oh, my heavens. Naughty dog.”
“Dog?” asked Grant.
“Aye.” She twirled in place, throwing up her arms. “I love him!”
Ciar blinked for a moment, then looked to the dog, who was now standing in the water, innocently wagging his tail—albeit much slower than before. Oh, aye
, the lass loved her new pet. Not Ciar, of course. “He’s a Saint John’s water dog. Should have thought of that before venturing to the river.”
Robert’s jaw twitched. “And you couldn’t keep him under control?”
“I was leading him,” said Emma. She shook her finger, though it wasn’t clear at whom. “And do not always be so overbearing, Robert. I’ll train Albert, and by the time we reach Glenmoriston, he’ll be the most obedient dog in the Highlands.”
Grant looked between them. “Well, the pair of you are soaked to the bone. You’d best—”
“Lairds!” hollered Livingstone as he ran toward them at full tilt. “Grave news.”
Ciar stepped forward, his fists jamming into his sodden hips. “What has happened?”
“It’s the queen. She’s dead. Lochiel just received word from Fort William.”
“Good God,” Ciar said, sliding his fingers over the hilt of his dirk. From here on out he’d need to be armed and on alert. “It begins.”
“The news grows worse,” said Livingstone.
Ciar eyed him. “Out with it.”
“George of Hanover has been named her successor.”
Chapter Seven
Seated at the table in Lochiel’s solar, Ciar rubbed his temples while he listened to his friends voice their disgust at the prospect of being ruled by a king who’d never set foot in Britain.
“Gentlemen.” Ciar pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. It was well past time for the evening meal, and most every man at the table would need to rise early next morn. “It is time we take matters into our own hands. We must ride at once to unite the Highland armies.”
“Do you mean to start a rising?” asked Lochiel.
“I mean to find out exactly who supports us and who does not. And, aye, if we cannot right this wrong peaceably, then we’ll have nay choice but to take up arms.”
Chisholm nodded emphatically. “Someone must cross the channel and speak to James.”
“Mar will do it,” said Lochiel. “My son and I set sail for London on the morrow.”
“Isn’t he away with his bride?” asked Grant.
“Aye, but I ken where to find him.”
“Very well, but the rest of us must ride at dawn,” said Ciar. “Grant, you take the road to Inverness. MacRae, head for Skye and the isles. Gordon, the Northwest. Murray, take Perth to Dundee. I’ll go west and start at Spean Bridge, and ride down through the southwest Highlands.”
Lochiel rocked back in his chair. “That’s bold of you, Dunollie. Stay clear of royalist Campbell lands. The lot of them can’t be trusted.”
“I intend to.”
“But what of home and hearth?” asked Stewart. “I border Campbell lands. I wouldn’t put it past them to attack Castle Stalker.”
Ciar rubbed his palm over the pommel of his dirk. “I aim to send my men to Dunollie and keep the peace there. The news will be spreading through Scotland like a brushfire. I expect there will be rioting across the kingdom if we do not stop it straightaway.”
Grant scowled. “The imposter from Hanover will learn what a riot is if he dares to cross the channel.”
“That’s why we must act immediately.” Ciar pushed to his feet. “I’m planning to leave tonight since summer days are long. Mind you, if we wait until the man is crowned, it will make dethroning him far more difficult.”
* * *
After the announcement of the queen’s passing, the rest of the clans moved to the great hall while the chiefs met. The roast pork was served, but Emma could scarcely eat. Obviously, the news meant everything would change, and just when she was growing accustomed to Achnacarry—and all the people—especially one person in particular. Especially when the gathering was supposed to continue a few more days.
The tension in the hall was as tight as a harp string. “Whatever is taking them so long?” asked Betty.
Janet’s knife tapped her plate. “If I ken Robert, they’re strategizing for war.”
“God save us,” Emma said. Albert growled and moved against her leg, his posture rigid. “What is it, boy?”
Just as she posed the question, footsteps resounded from the stairwell.
“At last,” said Janet. “There’s Robert now.”
“Where’s Dunollie?” Emma whispered to Betty.
“They’re both heading this way, and their expressions are as grim as a pair of men attending a funeral.”
“We are riding this night,” said Robert. “Each chieftain is to take sections of the Highlands and unite the clans. My dear, I want you to remain here until I send for you.”
“Here?” Janet asked.
“Traveling right now is too dangerous.”
Albert wagged his tail, gently brushing Emma’s calf. By the dog’s change in attitude, she guessed Ciar might be near. Interesting how the pup could alert her to things.
“Miss Emma.” His gentle voice rumbled beside her as the laird took her fingers between his rough palms. “I did not want to leave without saying goodbye.”
“Must you go tonight?”
“Aye, time is of the essence. I’ll sleep at the inn at Inverlochy and meet with any allies who happen to be in town, then on to Spean Bridge.”
She squeezed his hands, desperately wanting to say something to make him stay. “It seems like madness. Does it really matter to us who sits on the throne?”
“Aye, lass, it does very much. We’ve bided our time whilst James’s sister was in power. After all, Anne is of Stuart blood. But to usurp James, the rightful heir, a man born in Britain no less, and put a foreigner on the throne is an outrage.”
“Aye,” Robert agreed. “And if we thought Anne’s unfair taxation polices strangled us, we’ll be doubly strangled by George. I ken it clear to my bones.”
“The English lords in parliament have already run too many families into poverty,” said Janet.
Emma knew quite well about the unfortunate. They couldn’t make enough mittens, scarves, and gloves to keep them all warm in winter. Nonetheless, she squeezed Ciar’s hand. “But if it is nay safe for us to travel, what of you? Should you not stay here as well?”
He tugged her hand, drawing her closer. “It is kind of you to think of me, but my responsibility allays any danger.”
“Och, Dunollie can take care of himself like none other,” said Robert.
Emma’s heart hammered beneath her kirtle. Don’t go! “Promise me you will have a care.”
“I always do.” He kissed her hand, his lips warm and lingering longer than necessary. “I will miss you.”
Heaven save her, she missed him already. When would she ever see him again? What if there was a civil war? He might be injured or worse. “I want to help.”
As he released his grip, she reached out and brushed her hand over his wrist. His skin was covered with downy hair, and it was all she could do not to rub her fingers across it over and over again.
“You must take care of Albert. Teach him well. Mayhap one day he can become your companion so it will not be as frightening to leave Glenmoriston’s doors.”
“He’s already helping me.”
Ciar gently patted her wrist. “I’m nay surprised.”
“I shall order some white silk,” said Janet. “The women will make roses for those loyal to the cause to wear on their lapels.”
“Excellent idea,” said Betty.
“Aye,” Emma agreed. But her heart was breaking. If only she could do more than sit safely within Achnacarry’s walls and make silk roses. If only she could find a way to be of help to Ciar. And Robert, of course.
“Will you come see us?” she blurted, not caring if she was being forward. “A-after things have settled.”
“I hope the occasion to visit Glenmoriston comes sooner than later. After all, you promised to show me the falls, remember?”
“How could I forget?”
“We must go,” said Robert. “Whilst daylight remains.”
Emma took Albert’s lead and walked to the
door with her brother and the man she wished she could marry. “Be safe, both of you.”
Robert kissed her cheek. “Take care of my wife,” he whispered in her ear. “She’s expecting a bairn come late winter.”
Emma gasped. “Truly?”
“She thinks ’tis bad luck to announce the news too soon, but I thought you ought to know.”
“Thank you. Am I the only one?”
“Aye. She has not yet told her lady’s maid.”
“Very well, I shall keep it to myself.”
“Just do not let her grow overtired.”
“Of course not.” Emma kissed Robert’s hand. “Ciar?”
“Aye?”
She pulled her kerchief from her sleeve. “Take this for luck.”
He slowly drew it from her fingers. “Thank you. I will cherish it.”
“We must be off afore my sister gives away her heart as well as her kerchief.”
Emma affected a smile, though she knew it was a sad one. Evidently, Robert had no idea she’d already given away her heart. And she feared she’d never see it again.
Chapter Eight
We are alone, are we not?” Emma asked as she carefully negotiated the library, a cane in one hand and Albert’s lead in the other.
“Indeed we are.” Janet was writing a letter, and the scratching of her quill paused. “The castle seems too quiet with the men gone.”
“I think ’tis ghostly.” Albert stopped before Emma’s cane hit the leg of a chair. She altered direction. “But since there is no one else here, I wanted to confide that Robert told me you are expecting.”
Janet said nothing for a moment. “I suppose I should not be surprised.”
“Not to worry, he swore me to secrecy. However, he felt it best if someone knew. In case…”
“I’m glad of it, I suppose.”
“Do you think we’ll be home by the time the bairn arrives?”
“Oh, heavens. I do not expect to remain at Achnacarry for more than a few sennights.”
“I hope you’re right. I miss Glenmoriston.” Though not half as much as I miss Ciar.
“Bless it, my quill broke,” said Janet. The drawer to the writing table jostled. “This is locked. Why on earth would Da lock the silly drawer?”