Highlander Mine (20 page)

“I wish we didn’t have to lie, Ami,” Hamish said. “’Tis harder than I thought it would be.”

I did, too. So very much. But wishes, I’d learned long ago, were like clouds in the sky. Untouchable, wispy and more often than not, a sign of stormy weather when you were hoping for sunny skies.

After wiping both our tears away and smoothing his hair, I squeezed Hamish’s hand and called to Greer. “We’d best return to the manor,” I said. “Gather all of Edward’s belongings, Hamish. Every last one. To return to him at once.” To Greer, I said, “And we can show your mother your calligraphy and the complicated sums of your brother, which were perfect.” Already I’d improved his accuracy; at least maybe that counted for something. And today I’d encouraged Greer to do her drawings on a clean sheet of parchment, to leave her writing page unadorned, a detail that would please Katriona far more than the artistry, regrettably.

None of it, likely, would be enough. But problems were best faced head-on. And so we began our walk back to the manor.

As we emerged from the orchard, a large, fine carriage was being pulled down the lane by a team of black horses. These were flanked by a large number—ten or more—warriors on horseback. Both the men and the carriage were heavily decorated with a bright red tartan. I knew little of the clan tartans, but Hamish had been studying them and he anticipated my question. “Munro,” he said.

We watched as the carriages pulled up in front of the manor. Footmen assisted several women who disembarked. Ailie, Christie and Laird Mackenzie were on hand to greet the visitors, and it was then, without being seen, that I led the children through the side door, to deliver Greer to her mother, deal with the situation at hand and retire to my room for the evening.

* * *

T
HE
PROCEEDINGS
DID
not go especially well. While Edward and Hamish reconciled immediately after Edward’s possessions had been returned to him, this was not before he had recounted Hamish’s entire offence to his mother, in meticulous detail. Edward, while not a particularly outspoken boy, was, when pressed to do so, indeed fairly eloquent. And thorough. And Katriona was now convinced, as she had wanted to be all along, that our history was rife with the lies we had so carefully attempted to conceal.

“I knew it from the minute I saw the two of you,” she proclaimed. “Something was remiss. First the dice and now this. You’re hiding something, Amelia, and I want to hear of it. Now. How did Hamish learn his card skills? Edward said he could shuffle, and deal, and practically predict the next card to be dealt as though he’d been doing it all his life.”

That’s because he has.

“There was a small gang of misfits that lived around the corner from our house,” I said, scrambling for anything that might sound believable. But I was tired. My lies didn’t sound convincing, even to myself. “Sons of one of my father’s patients. ’Twas all fairly harmless. Just a game. It won’t happen again, I can assure you of that, Katriona.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

Our eyes met. I wondered how I appeared to her. Still windblown. Still filling out my gown too snugly, despite Ailie’s expertise; the food at Kinloch was beyond reproach and I had been eating well. Still creamy-skinned with a light dusting of freckles across my nose. It was true that Katriona had become less antagonistic during the week, as we had discussed the children’s schedules and the small improvements they made in their lessons each day. I had believed she was genuinely pleased with my work and I thought she might, under different circumstances, have liked me to continue. That now might have changed, however, depending on her decision regarding Hamish’s second mistake.

And I wondered about her association with her laird. I remembered the discussion of the women in Lachlan’s cabin. They’d insinuated a connection. An interest, at least on Katriona’s part, and one that might not be returned by Knox himself. I wondered if this had caused her disappointment, and her crossness. And I wondered if she suspected
our
fragile yet fiery attraction. Jealousy could, to be sure, be coloring her opinion of me.

It didn’t matter, either way. She could have him. She could comfort him once I was but a distant memory.

And so, after smoothing the situation as artfully as I could, I returned to my guest chambers. The matter would be discussed with Laird Mackenzie, Katriona pointed out, when he became available. Only then would a final verdict be given.

Hamish had gone to the boys’ quarters, with Edward, where he now spent most of his nights.

I was glad for the quiet.

I spent some time writing a letter to Hamish that I’d been working on, to explain to him the reasons for my departure and to do my very best to convince him that he must, under no circumstances, follow me. He must wait for me here at Kinloch until I returned, which I promised I would do. It was more than possible I would not be able to keep this promise, but sometimes lies had to be spun to keep loved ones safe: this was hardly a newfound revelation.

Outside, the bustle and excitement of more arrivals could be heard. I went to the window and I could see the approach of two more carriages, of different clans clearly marked by their varying tartans. Already, the late afternoon was alive with music and conversation, and the frivolity of friends meeting again to talk, eat, drink and share the news of the Highlands.

Frivolity that I would take no part in.

I could admit that I wouldn’t have
minded
a dose of fun and laughter. But it was best if I kept to myself. I had to consider the growing list of topics I needed to studiously avoid in the presence of various members of the Mackenzie clan, including the debacle of Hamish’s card tricks and the infinitely more humiliating fiasco down by the loch’s edge with the venerable, arrogant, devastatingly appealing laird. Even as my mind skimmed the memory, already I felt a light flush heat my face, and elsewhere, and a swooping flutter in my stomach.

Nay. I couldn’t take part in any festivities where
he
would be present. I would be offered ale, most likely. I would be expected to introduce myself and tell my story, over and over, to the people I met. Questions would be asked. And all the while, he would be watching me. Those lightning-bright eyes would rove the curves of my body, lingering in indecent places that he had already touched. And
tasted
.

The flush heated further, to a soft, centered ache lightly pulsing with sweet, tantalizing need.

A knock at my door made me jump.

Two servants, wheeling a steaming tub full of bathwater. “Christie has sent a bath for you, milady,” one of them said. I opened the door to let them in and the bath was wheeled into my chambers.

“And a dress prepared by Ailie,” said the other, laying a cream-colored gown on the furs of my bed. “They request that you be ready in an hour to attend the gathering in the grand hall.”

“I’m not attending the gathering,” I said.

“Christie was quite insistent, milady,” one of them said. “Would you like assistance with your bath?”

“Nay, I—”

“Very well, then. We’ll be back to collect the tub when you’re ready. Just hang this ribbon on the outside of your doorknob when you’ve finished.” One of the young women handed me a looped blue ribbon. Yet another clever detail of the Mackenzie housekeeping. Before I could protest further, the women left, closing the door behind them.

The bath, in fact, looked exceptionally inviting. The water had been scented and the steam filled the room with a humid fragrance. I could bathe and then send a message to Christie and Ailie with the women when they came to fetch the tub.
I
could be quite insistent, too. And I simply could not attend the gathering. My urges were too unruly, my responses too unpredictable. I didn’t trust myself in the company of Knox Mackenzie: it was as simple as that. My conversation with Hamish had invigorated my urgency to return to Cecelia. I decided that if Katriona didn’t pay me tomorrow, I would just have to do without it. I would spend the next day avoiding him, being as unobtrusive as it was possible to be.

The hot water felt heavenly. I scrubbed my hair and my body with the small cakes of rose-scented soap that were perched on a fitted wooden shelf. I luxuriated until the water began to cool, and then I rinsed myself clean. Drying myself, I decided to just
try
the dress. Not that I’d be needing it tonight, but it was beautifully made, as all of Ailie’s creations. The fabric was a thick satin. Fitted and soft, it clung to my plentiful curves like a second skin. Instead of buttons, it was designed to wrap and tie at the side of the waist, cinching a flattering shape. It was cut revealingly and designed to gently support, showcasing my breasts like a pillowy offering. The dress was beautiful, aye, but it was bordering on scandalous. It might not have appeared that way on a more slender figure, but on me, it was a dress that would no doubt get attention. Very
unwanted
attention.

No matter. I wouldn’t be getting anyone’s attention here, behind the closed doors of my private chambers. I left the silky-soft gown on, nevertheless, as I brushed my hair until it was wavy and glossy. I remembered to place the ribbon on the doorknob, and as I opened the door to hang it there, I saw Christie walking down the corridor toward my chambers. I nearly scurried back in and closed the door, hoping she hadn’t yet seen me.

“Amelia!” she exclaimed. “I’m so pleased you’ve put it on. I specifically chose this one for you. Isn’t it perfect? Let me see you.”

I had no choice but to allow her to enter my chambers. She circled me, taking in the spectacle of me. “My brother,” she said gleefully, “will simply not know what has struck him.”

“Oh, nay,” I countered. “I’m not going to the gathering, Christie. I’ve got some work to do.” Of course, I couldn’t reveal that I was writing a letter to Hamish. “Preparing the children’s lessons for next week.”

I wondered if she’d heard yet of Hamish’s swindling, and was not surprised when she said, “Oh, you simply
must.
Don’t worry about the child, Amelia. We all know there are many layered mysteries to the both of you. Personally, I think that’s part of the appeal. I only wish
I
was so mysterious. Regrettably, everyone in this clan knows everything there is to know about me and every member of my family for generation upon generation. Where’s the fun in that?” She chattered happily as she fingered a long curl of my hair. “Trust me when I say you simply will
not
want to miss this evening’s revelries. I’ve got good reason to believe that something
very
exciting is about to happen. Involving my dear sister, Ailie, and a certain impending heir to the lairdship of the Munro clan.”

I remembered Knox speaking of him. “The one named Magnus?”

“Indeed it is. I’m sure...” She paused, appearing to exercise control of her pronouncement, which was clearly requiring effort on her part. Her blue eyes spangled. “Well, I shouldn’t yet say exactly what will take place tonight, but I know it’ll be worth your while. And Knox has asked me to summon you. He wants you to speak to Magnus, regarding your kin. I believe he’s already received word from messengers he sent to several neighboring keeps in search of information.”

I had been told this would be done and I had done nothing to stop it, but still, this information, so cheerfully delivered by Christie here and now, was somewhat distressing: that people were going out of their way to seek out my fictional family was shameful of me. I had instigated their search and I felt more than a pang of regret over my frivolous lies. I wished now that I had never had the need to deceive these kind, hardworking people. I silently cursed Sebastian Fawkes. It was
his
fault, all of it. All the fear and sadness and lies. The despair turned then, into something else. Anger. Resolve.

I remembered why the dishonesties had been necessary.

Hamish.

Keep him safe, Amelia. Please. I beg you. Do whatever it takes to keep him safe.

A light knock signaled the return of the young women who would remove the tub. As soon as the door opened, Christie grasped my hand and began pulling me down the hall in the direction of the grand hall, where the festivities were already underway.

* * *

T
HE
GRAND
HALL
was crowded and colorful, populated by big, tartan-clad men and beautiful women. I was struck immediately by the vast difference between this gathering and the ones I was used to: a gambling den full of downtrodden scoundrels seeking luck in all the wrong places. These people, in contrast, were wealthy and noble and looked the part. They were at the height of their game, or, more accurately, they were the pinnacle of what every Scot aspired to be, even the city dwellers, in a roundabout way. Even if they weren’t aware of the deficiencies in their cramped, crowded lifestyle, any urbanite would surely desire
this
kind of freedom, splendor and armed, guarded superiority if given half a choice. I know
I
did.

Alas, I was not being given half a choice, nor any choice at all.

I supposed, in fact, I was wrong about that. I
did
have choices. But I would not be able to live with myself if I abandoned my sister. Not knowing whether she was alive or dead, imprisoned or hungry, ill or alone, was not an option. Already I had taken longer than I would have chosen to secure Hamish’s safety. I was becoming restless with thoughts of my impending journey, and my mind was only partially focused on this scene I found myself in, surrounded now by Highlanders of all descriptions. In general, they exuded an air of health and fitness, with their suntanned faces, their shiny weapons and strong-limbed deportment. The light of day was beginning to fade now and the room was festively lit with torches and candles. An inviting fire burned in the large fireplace even though the evening was mild. The crowd convened in convivial clusters, and the ale flowed. A long table along one side of the hall was being laid with plate upon plate of sumptuous food. The feast would soon begin.