Highlander Mine (11 page)

“Aye,” he said distractedly.

“There’s the call now,” said Marin.

Everyone went momentarily silent. In the distance, the sound of a horn could be heard. Once. Twice. A third time. “That’s the signal that the noon meal has been served,” explained Fionne.

Lachlan blew his wife a kiss, a subtle gesture that was meant only for her but that was nevertheless savored by all. Several of the women sighed.

“Let’s go,” Lachlan said to me, somewhat gruffly.

I bid the ladies farewell and followed him.

“You have a beautiful family,” I said to him as we walked back past the barracks.

“Aye,” he muttered, still mired in sweet memories, already pining perhaps for the company of his wife. But then, he turned his head to look at me and said, “Thank you. I am fortunate.”

“And deserving, I’m sure. You’ve been very kind to me and I appreciate it,” I told him. It was true and I wanted him to know that.

He didn’t reply, but as we continued on our way through the idyllic rambling pathways of the orchard toward the manor, there was a lightness to our companionship that felt richer than it had even moments ago. There was something meaningful about recognizing and acknowledging that a person was trustworthy, and decent, and that an inkling of that trust might be returned.

We approached the Mackenzie manor. The double doors of the grand hall were opened to the warm breeze and I could see and hear that the hall was crowded, already filled with people enjoying a good meal and the camaraderie of their clan. The sounds of laughter and conversation filled the sunlit air.

It took my eyes a few moments to adjust to the relative dimness of the interior space after the brightness of the day. Lachlan led us to a table where Christie, Ailie and Katriona were seated, near the end of a long table, among others. I noticed then that there was a tall chair at the head, empty.

At that very moment, Laird Mackenzie entered the hall through the door at the far end, followed closely by Hamish. Laird Mackenzie’s eyes scanned the room, searching. As soon as his eyes found me, his gaze bore into me, unrelenting. I was struck once again not only by the size of him but by his shape. His shoulders were broad and he held himself as though he were the king of the world but that the weight of his responsibilities required strength he had to summon from the deepest corners of his soul. His face, as he watched me, was not friendly but stern, serious, uncompromising, assessing.

I walked toward him, remembering what Lachlan had said: that I should be returned to Laird Mackenzie’s care. When Lachlan had mentioned it in his cottage, I had not been particularly pleased by this pronouncement, but now, under the watchful heat of Knox’s gaze, I found I was breathless and quietly excited. I couldn’t be sure about this, but something about his expression suggested he’d been thinking about me, and seeking me out. If the superiority of him goaded me, the superior
ness
of him enthralled me. He stood there like a masterpiece. He was easily ten times more radiant than anyone else in the room. And all this with a scowl on his tanned, distinguished face.

As I drew closer to him, our eyes remained locked. It was an intense, charged response. I remembered the connection between Lachlan and his wife I’d just witnessed. Whereas that glance had been one of affection and love,
this
was alight with challenge—defiance in the face of heavy authority—and mutual curiosity. Not only curiosity, but a strange, unexpected
relief.
I could read it in his expression as I could feel it in the layered tumult of my own emotions: I was glad to see him. My eyes and psyche were thrilled somehow by the vision of his arresting arrival.

I stood close to the fireplace, which was unlit owing to the mildness of the day, unsure of where I was supposed to sit. He had not moved and was now several feet away from where I stood. His eyes did not leave me. And his scowl did not soften. This hardness in him, studded with arrogance and advantage, ruffled me. I felt out of place in this grand, polished setting, with its servants and banquets and picturesque views. But I was good at pretending.

Or at least I had been until recently. Irritatingly, something about the presence of Knox Mackenzie seemed to undermine my controlled, dramatic prowess. I did not look away from him, but I took an unsteady breath.

“Laird Mackenzie,” I said in greeting. My polite respect, even to my own ears, sounded somewhat overdone. “I trust your meeting with my brother went well, and offered you more information than your rather disappointing conversation with me.”

His eyes narrowed, but I thought I detected a glimmer in their light gray depths. “Let’s just say he offered the information much more freely than you did.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“He’s a bright spark,” he said. “I believe he’ll make an eager student in the barracks.”

The comment reassured me to such an extent I smiled in spite of myself, breaking our aloof little standoff, or whatever this was. Not only would Hamish be protected and entertained, but he would be learning a valuable skill, and one that would challenge him, make him happy and most important, equip him. He might even forgive me, eventually, for leaving him. “I thank you for that. I know he would be very willing.”

“I am always in need of young recruits that might strengthen my future army,” he said. His remark struck me with its arrogance. I almost laughed at the innate loftiness of him. I held back my laughter, but I believe my smile might have curled into the mildest of smirks. He noticed, of course, as eagle-eyed as his attention was. And he reacted with a retort that found my smirk fading almost instantly.

“At least, that is, until we locate your long-lost relatives. The cousin of one Michael Taylor, a surgeon from east Edinburgh who died only a month ago. I will send out messengers on the morrow, to see what information we might be able to gather.”

Hamish had done well, if our interests were still to fabricate as many details of our history as possible. My father’s name had not been Michael, but Robert. He had not been a surgeon, except in extreme, dire situations, but a general practitioner. Our home had not been located in east Edinburgh, but in the northern quarter. And he had not died last month, but ten years past. I remained silent, both in an attempt to keep my expression smooth and also because I was experiencing an unfamiliar pang of guilt.
I will send out messengers on the morrow.
Lachlan or someone like him. A posse of men with wives and children who would rather be spending their days with their loved ones than prowling the hills in search of information that would—unbeknownst to them—never surface.

I found myself saying, “Laird Mackenzie, please.
I
will search for my father’s cousin. Please don’t trouble yourself—”

“You?”
he interrupted sharply. “Alone? What do you intend to do, lass? Take a stroll across the Highlands knocking on doors?” His mouth twitched in admonishing amusement. But he didn’t smile. His voice grew quiet, so low it was almost a murmur. “In
that
dress?”

I looked down at my dress. I hadn’t realized it but my shawl had shifted and was not covering me as adequately as it possibly should have been in such noble company. I adjusted it somewhat indignantly. His constant mockery was nothing short of infuriating. “If that’s what I must do, then so be it. I had hoped to find some gainful employment to pay my way,
Laird
Mackenzie. That is my intention.”

He scowled at my barely disguised insolence.

“What about the
bandits?
” he said softly, and his eyebrows rose briefly at the word as he uttered it, as though emphasizing his suspicion on the subject. A subject, to be sure, I now wished we had never, ever dreamed up.

I lifted my chin in a small movement of dissent, but I did not reply.

Knox Mackenzie seemed to read my silence as another win. He studied my face with sanctimonious satisfaction. Then, as his eyes remained locked on mine, he said, “Come. Sit. Have some food.” Overly commanding, once again, but this time I was glad for the change of subject. I was also interested to see that he was placing a chair next to his own. Not only that, but he had repositioned his own large chair at the head of the table to the side, just slightly, to fit me next to him and also to make a space for the stool he put next to my chair, for Hamish.

This act seemed significant: that he would displace his own kinglike position at the table to make way for
me,
for us. A few other people seated at our table also noticed. This caused several in the group to study me, and the laird, more closely. Katriona was among them, and I wondered at the comments I’d overheard at Lachlan’s house
. I don’t blame her for trying. I just don’t think it’s a good match.
This suggested she had designs on Knox Mackenzie but that the relationship had not gone according to her plans. I had no thoughts on this. I, certainly, was no competition for a cultured woman of her standing, nor did I particularly want to be.
You’re lying to yourself,
my own internal contrariness said.
You want him. You want to kiss him and touch his hair. You want to feel his mouth and his hands on your body—

Nay. It wouldn’t do. I would remain aloof. I would focus on the task at hand, that of securing a small amount of money that would pay for my way back to Edinburgh or at least some food along my journey.

Laird Mackenzie gestured for me to sit.

“To what do we owe the honor of Laird Mackenzie’s esteemed presence today, brother?” said Christie, who had been one of our keenest observers throughout the shuffle of chairs. “You usually only join us for the evening meal.”

He appeared mildly provoked by the question. “I can enjoy the company of my clan and the offerings of our cooks during the day occasionally, can I not, Christie?”

Christie and Ailie both looked at me, and at the placement of my chair, which Laird Mackenzie was holding out, waiting for me to sit, in a gentlemanly courtesy. They exchanged a loaded glance, both smiling, and Christie replied, “Of course you can. Whenever you like, Knox.” Whereas everyone else in the Mackenzie clan clearly deferred to their venerable laird, Christie’s role was one of playful instigator. She was not intimidated by him in the least and the dynamic between them was one of good-humored mischief, on her part at least, and mutual affection.

Katriona was also watching Laird Mackenzie, but her expression was far less amused.

Hamish ran inside, joining us, absentmindedly grazing my shoulder with the light touch of his fingers as he sat. I could see that Laird Mackenzie was interested in both of us, in the way we interacted: anything that might give him more clues as to our characters and our mysteries.

Christie, however, was not yet finished goading her older brother. To me, she said, “Knox is not always so attentive to guests, Amelia. I daresay my brother is intrigued by your city origins, is that not so, Knox? We don’t get all that many visitors from Edinburgh—”

“Speaking of Edinburgh,” Knox said, decisively cutting her off, speaking to the group in general. “I didn’t hear how your trip went. Did you accomplish everything you set out to do?” He sounded bored by his own question, as though he couldn’t care less about the trip or the tasks, nor could he recall what the tasks might have been.

“Actually, nay,” Christie offered without hesitation. “I mean, we were able to find the fabrics we needed for Ailie’s designs, and in more variety than we expected. But Katriona was not so lucky in her pursuits.”

“’Tis true, unfortunately,” Katriona agreed. She was lovely, I thought, if somewhat severe. Her dark hair was almost black, and shiny. Her skin was flawless. If she had allowed an inkling of humor or liveliness to permeate her manner, she would have been all the more appealing. As it was, she seemed relentlessly dour. I remembered another comment made by the women in Lachlan’s cabin.
She, too, is grieving.
If she had designs on Laird Mackenzie, I reasoned that she must have lost her husband, as he had lost his wife. She had reason, therefore, to be saddened by this. I made a point of trying my best to like her, and to sympathize with whatever her hardships might have been.

Knox glanced at her blankly, distracted. His distraction seemed to displease her. “I had hoped to secure a teacher for my children,” she said to him. Her tone suggested she had told him this before, and that she was miffed that he had forgotten.

“And you weren’t able to?” he replied vaguely.

“Nay, alas. ’Tis surprisingly difficult to find someone who has the required qualifications,” Katriona commented. “And etiquette.”

“Several of the young women you interviewed seemed very good, to me,” Ailie said. “But we know you’re exceptionally particular when it comes to your children, of course. As you have good reason to be.”

Katriona’s eyebrows knitted together at the memory. “Aye, well, I was hoping to get someone just a bit more experienced than some of those—”

“Amelia’s a qualified teacher,” Hamish offered, through a mouthful of food.

Everyone at the table quieted for a moment, glancing at me. Despite my early elite education, I was qualified to do nothing more than deal cards at a crooked gaming club, and even that had been disputed by some (those who lost), since it wasn’t a role usually fulfilled by a woman. These, however, were details I would refrain from elaborating upon to Katriona. I had been crushed, at first, when I had learned that I would no longer be able to attend school, to train and to one day get qualified as a teacher. The dream had never faded, and over time, I had read every book I could find, on instruction, on method, on every subject from arithmetic to aviation to apothecary. And I had used Hamish as my student. As I had always allowed him his dream of someday becoming a soldier, reading him stories, feeding his fancy, he had likewise encouraged me. He’d willingly let me use him as a test case, obediently completing grammar exercises, taking the little examinations I drafted and then improved.

He knew all my stories. Including my shameful attempts to create a false paper qualification, which had, in fact, fooled several upper-class women into letting me tutor their children. For a few short weeks, I had been able to escape the confines of the gaming scene and work at a real and wonderful profession. But the ruse had ended abruptly when one of the children’s fathers happened to frequent our club. At first the man couldn’t place where he knew me from. He’d offhandedly mistaken me for an extramarital conquest he’d bedded. But then it had dawned on him. I had, needless to say, been fired on the spot. Hamish had been the one to comfort me and encourage me to try again. But secretly, I’d almost given up a little. No one would ever want me teaching their children. I hailed from the backstreets, not the esteemed halls of learning. I could play the part convincingly enough, but it was disheartening at times to lie so constantly, especially to children. Lying could be exhausting. The convolution had the power to test one’s wits.