Highlander Mine (13 page)

“Knox?” the soldier goaded lightly, elbowing him.

Still Laird Mackenzie did not respond. His gaze remained riveted on...well, on the thin film of a garment I happened to be wearing and all that it failed to conceal. “What...” he stuttered.

It was all frightfully rude, I thought. “If you don’t
mind,
” I began, then looked around for Hamish. “Hamish?”

My nephew appeared from around the side of the building, clutching my dress, which he handed to me as he walked over, his eyes remaining locked on the men. He addressed them sunnily, seeing nothing out of the ordinary here at all. “Laird Mackenzie,” he greeted. “I was showing Amelia your swords. I simply
cannot
believe how many there are. ’Tis an outstanding collection indeed. If you’re in need, I just know I’d make an excellent apprentice. I could help sharpen the weapons until they’re the most lethal in all of Scotland.” To me, he said, “I was right, Ami. The door opens from the outside. I checked. I could have let you out that way.”

I could have saved myself this irritation and embarrassment? Why hadn’t that occurred to me before? I cursed myself for being not only dim and overly curious but also half naked.
Damn it all to the fiery pits of hell!

I didn’t realize I’d spoken my oath aloud until the smirking guard said, “What was that, uh...milady?” As though he thought the address somewhat misplaced. Never mind that it was; this only fueled my indignation.

My tone was, regrettably, somewhat stirred. “What I
meant
to say is that if you wouldn’t mind at least turning your back while I dress, I would live out my days in state of eternal gratitude for your
abounding gentlemanliness.
Sir.”

By this time, I had managed to hold the dress up against myself as a shield of sorts. The barrier did little to unstun the eternally composed Laird Mackenzie, whose flummoxed shock was quickly turning into a grand source of amusement for his officer. Through a smile, the officer nonetheless gave Hamish a clear command, “Lad, that arsenal’s off-limits unless you’re accompanied by a soldier.” To his laird, he said, “Knox, I realize your self-imposed sentence has taken its toll—a less scrupulous man would have crumbled many times over by this point—but let’s give the lass a moment to make herself presentable, shall we? Then you can intimidate her into all manner of confession and otherwise,” he said, winking at me amiably.

Laird Mackenzie snapped out of whatever variety of bewilderment he’d been mired in. He glared at me. “That won’t be necessary,” he grumbled, and without so much as a backward glance, he turned and walked off.

“Stormed away” would have been a more accurate description, in fact.

The jovial officer gave me one last grin before following his laird. “I don’t know who you are or what in God’s name you’re doing, but you’ve well and truly ruffled Laird Mackenzie’s unruffleable feathers. Well done, lass. ’Tis about time.”

With that, he took his leave.

CHAPTER FIVE

K
ATRIONA
’
S
CHILDREN
WERE
surprisingly delightful. Edward was a boy of ten years of age, bright-eyed and dark-haired, and eager to learn. He was quieter than Hamish, and more serious in demeanor, but they struck up immediate conversation. If Edward had ever entertained an interest in the military, he was thoroughly discouraged in this pursuit by Katriona—which she pointed out to me before I was to begin. “The children’s father was killed in battle,” Katriona said. “I will not allow my son to follow his footsteps into the bloody ravages of war and an early grave,” was what she had to say on that topic. Edward seemed content to follow this particular guideline and had expressed an interest in farming. “He is being trained to be an overseeing farmer,” Katriona explained to me. “A landowner who will experiment with new technologies and agricultural practices. He needs good counting skills and the ability to speak well, to the groups of people he will lead and instruct when his education is complete.”

Katriona had very definite plans for her children, which I was to do my small part to help them achieve during my short stay and my very temporary assignment.

Greer was a girl of eight years of age, with fair hair and dark eyes. She did not smile upon our first meeting and, apparently, was somewhat headstrong. “She’ll marry well, of course,” commented Katriona. “She must learn etiquette, French, calligraphy, as well as discipline and reserve. These are skills she has not yet mastered.”

“I have,” was Greer’s somewhat surly reply. I could see Katriona’s disdain in her, but above all, I could see a contrariness that I could relate to. I had learned this long ago: to find common ground with my students. It was the first step toward building a successful relationship. Learning their interests would help me inspire them, by offering them information they could use to build upon those interests.

“You look very disciplined to me,” I said. “Sit with me under this apple tree, and tell me what you’d like to learn first.”

I had requested to spend the first lesson out-of-doors, in the orchard, where I could get to know the children in a more relaxed setting. I would teach them in the mornings, and they would be otherwise occupied, with apprenticeships and play, in the afternoons. “We will meet you at the midday meal,” I told Katriona.

She looked a little taken aback by my undisguised dismissal. But she obeyed my roundabout request and took her leave.

The morning passed quickly. I learned that Greer’s passion was drawing, she enjoyed French and one day wanted to be an artist. She didn’t care about marrying well, or etiquette, and she had an active dislike of discipline. “We’ll avoid it at all costs,” I told her. “And we can decorate your calligraphy work with your drawings.”

By the end of the morning, Greer’s hand was latched in mine, Hamish had taught Edward seven Latin verbs and we’d recited the multiplication tables four times.

I, I could admit, was in my element. The day was bright, Hamish was safe and happy and he would spend his days of the foreseeable future learning and playing and training at the one thing he was passionate about. I was earning money and pursuing a lifelong goal, and I was doing it honestly, without need to cheat or to steal. There was real satisfaction in gainful employment, I already knew, and was glad I could be useful in this way while getting one step closer to rescuing my sister.

This was the one looming dark cloud on my horizon: my return to Edinburgh, where I would have to seek out the only person in the world who truly terrified me in order to ensure that my sister was not being held against her will, or worse. At this moment, she would be afraid. Afraid of the wrath my escape had brought upon her. Afraid for the life of her husband, her sister and her son.

As I had been afraid. To the very depths of my soul.
I could make you plead, you realize. For mercy.

Something about the fresh, misted air of Kinloch eased the restlessness that had always been a part of my character. When I found her, I could convince my very urban sister, with her visions of civility and sophisticated comfort, that we didn’t need to cling to the tatters of a life that had died a long time ago. That there were new frontiers to explore that were luxurious but at the same time wild and free: no better combination existed, as far as I knew.

Of course, the undertaking was daunting. I would be alone. I knew I could steal rides from hay wagons as we had done on our northbound expedition, but I was not looking forward to the bumpy rides or the sleepless nights. Or the hunger.

Edinburgh itself would be another story completely. I would need to hide, to seek information, and if I was unable to find any, my last resort would be to confront Sebastian Fawkes himself. This was a scenario that haunted my dreams. He would be waiting for me. He knew that my sister and I shared a close bond and that at some point, I would attempt to find her.

He also knew I was wily. Wilier than he had first given me credit for.

And I doubted he would make the same mistake twice.

I knew his plans for me, and I knew what lengths he would go to in order to prove his upper hand. Power fueled him like a drug and had gained him the fear and respect of much of Edinburgh’s underworld. I understood that, unless I used every weapon of intelligence, stealth and craftiness in my limited arsenal, he would have me.

I always get what I want.

A light chill crept up my spine at the thought of him. The icy touch of his fingers as he trailed them up my arm before I could flinch back from him. The heat of his appraisal that had then, and even now, repulsed me to my bones. I would give in to him if it was the only option. I had already resolved to sacrifice myself in this way. If such a sacrifice would save Cecelia’s life, then so be it. My sister’s life was worth more than my happiness.

I was glad Hamish would be well protected and far away from whatever confrontation took place. My trip would be lonelier, but that hardly mattered. His safety was paramount.

And so my thoughts trod as a little girl held my hand while she drew pictures in the summery air with the daisy she held in the other. The boys climbed trees and sparred with long sticks. In the muddle of dread over my own uncertain future, I took strength from my nephew’s laughter and the pollen-speckled rays of the warm sun.

We returned to the manor and took our midday meal with Katriona, Christie and Ailie. Laird Mackenzie was nowhere to be found. I was glad of this. My humiliation over being gawked at as though he were a starving man and I the banquet had faded, but I wanted to keep my distance from him nonetheless. He was a distraction I could neither afford nor endure. Our meetings had so far been fraught with all manner of the absurd. Just the thought of running into him again had me on edge. I made a point of keeping my clothes thoroughly buttoned and my pockets appropriately empty, just in case. He was as stealthy as those jungle cats I’d read about; you never knew when he might suddenly appear out of thin air.

“Since your possessions were stolen, Amelia,” Ailie said, “I wondered if we could gift you with some new gowns. Since you have only the one you’re wearing.”

“There’s no need—”

“Please, you must let us,” interrupted Christie. “We have so many. Ailie’s a seamstress, and she’s not satisfied unless each and every man, woman and child in the entire keep is immaculately dressed. I’m afraid you really have no choice in the matter. She’d love to fit some of the gowns for you, and you won’t hear the end of it if you refuse her. She’s obsessed and very bossy. Please oblige her, for all our sakes.”

“I have several I think would be perfect,” Ailie continued, as though the matter had already been agreed to and ignoring her sister’s comments altogether. “Blue to match your eyes, and a green one, too.”

“She’s very talented,” added Katriona, whose manner seemed to have softened toward me somewhat. Maybe she had found my way with her children more satisfactory than she’d hoped. There was an unevenness to her warmth, though, that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “Even the Edinburgh designers were asking her for advice.”

“I didn’t realize it was you who made these gowns,” I said. “I admired your designs the very first time I saw the three of you. In the tavern.”

“Then you simply must agree to a fitting,” said Ailie, eager. “Please,” she added. “Are you finished with your meal?”

And so it was, I was whisked to the sisters’ large private chambers, which had an adjoining workroom, where there were dozens of garments in various stages of completion. Katriona had taken her leave to attend to the activities of her children.

“I was thinking this one,” said Ailie, holding one of the gowns up to me.

“Try it on, Amelia,” urged Christie.

I did, and Ailie busied herself making adjustments, pinning and sewing with the talkative assistance of Christie. “You’ve such a lovely figure, Amelia. So feminine. I’d wager the men of Edinburgh chase you.”

Aye, they do,
I thought but did not say.
I’m often propositioned at the gaming tables with suggestive offers. And at least one murderous ganglord has placed a handsome price on my capture and ownership.
“Not particularly.”

“Well,” she said, “I can assure you the Highlands men will.”

“Christie, hold this,” said Ailie, perhaps so used to Christie’s chatter than she barely noticed it.

“One Highlands man in particular seems to have noticed you quite a lot,” Christie said, a comment I could not respond to as I was currently being cinched into my gown with some insistence. Had Knox Mackenzie noticed me? I remembered our first meeting, under the apple tree. I was inexperienced in every way except one. I could read the look in a man’s eyes as easily as words in a book. He’d more than noticed me. His guarded fascination was encrypted into his every glance. And in his den, the charged connection as I’d pulled on his golden chain, drawing his princely face close to mine. The challenge and emotion. As for the incident in the barracks; aye, he’d noticed me. There was little doubt about that. I almost smiled as I remembered his stunned, speechless stupor. The almighty laird lost for words. A first, perhaps. I couldn’t help feeling a tiny flicker of accomplishment.

“I...I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” I protested inarticulately. Even now, as I recalled our shared enthrallment in his private quarters, I felt the lingering effects of Knox Mackenzie’s masculine charisma in a most secret, fluttering place. Even so, as much as I might have liked to let my urges lead me where they may, I was resolved to ignore whatever whimsical allure the laird might have held for me. It was entirely possible that my journey southward would not allow me to return this way again. I hoped that it would, of course, but the dangers of my mission could not be understated.

“I’m referring to Laird Mackenzie, of course,” continued Christie. “Wasn’t it obvious at the midday meal, Ailie? He couldn’t tear his eyes away.”

Ailie smiled calmly as she worked, reading my unease. “He might have just been taking a professional interest in our new and very interesting guests.”

“Nay,” insisted Christie. “There was much more to it than that.” She had reclined on one of the big fur-strewn beds, propping herself up on one elbow in a relaxed, girlish pose. She really was lovely, with her sparkling, youthful air and easy smile. Her hair fell around her shoulders in radiant waves. “He’s very intrigued by you, Amelia. Even if he hasn’t yet admitted it to himself. We all know how self-controlled our powerful brother is. And it’s the first time I’ve seen cracks in his armor for...well, for some time.”

“I was terribly saddened to hear of his loss,” I said. “Of his wife and child. ’Tis an unimaginable tragedy.”

“Aye,” Christie replied. “That was a dark day indeed. One of the darkest this clan has ever known.” After a pause, she asked gently, “Who told you of that?”

“Kn— Uh, Laird Mackenzie himself,” I replied. “He mentioned that he had lost them. Two years ago, he said.”

The sisters exchanged a glance.

“He doesn’t often speak of it,” Ailie said quietly.

“He doesn’t
ever
speak of it,” Christie amended.

“I had asked about the ring he wears around his neck,” I explained.

These details seemed highly intriguing to Ailie and Christie. There was a pronounced thread of concern to Ailie’s interest, although Christie’s manner was lighter, almost gleeful with the information I had offered. “Knox keeps that ring well hidden,” Christie said. “However did you get him to even reveal it to you?”

“I... He had leaned down to pick something up that had dropped,” I said. “It fell free of his shirt. I saw it and I asked him about it.” Nothing untoward in those events as I described them. Nor even as I recollected them. An innocent conversation, that was all it had been.

“What else did he say?” Christie asked, curiosity lighting up her face.

Before I could reply, Ailie began to speak. I thought she might reprimand her younger sister for being overly inquisitive, but instead she said, “Amelia, I hope you don’t mind our questions. It’s just that Knox has been acting...out of the ordinary since you arrived. We have his best interests at heart, of course. And yours.”

“Aye,” added Christie. “We suspect it might have something to do with his reaction to you.”

Their kindness and their clear concern for their brother made me want to open up to them, to help them in any way I could. “I’m sure it’s nothing to do with me,” I said. “Except perhaps that I seem to annoy him beyond belief. He’s probably just anxious to be rid of me. And he won’t have long to wait, fortunately for him. I’ll soon be on my way.” It sounded abrupt, the way I’d worded it. “Once my relatives are located, that is,” I added.

“It will be wonderful when they’re found,” Ailie said. “After all you’ve been through, it’ll be nice for you to find your kin once again.”

“I wonder who they’ll be,” Christie said. “Or if they might be neighbors of ours. Wouldn’t it be grand if your relations turned out to be the Munros, perhaps, or the Macintoshes? Looking at you, you really could be a Munro, couldn’t she, Ailie? Practically everyone in the entire clan has red hair of some description. The Buchanans, too, come to think of it.”