Kilgannon (9 page)

"Aye," he said, his eyes lighting up. "Do ye want to see it?"

"Won't that compromise me further?"

"Not if I don't take ye
below decks
. Besides, Angus and Matthew are there. They can be yer chaperons."

I laughed and waved a finger at him. "Oh, yes, Alex, that would be grand. I'll explain to Louisa that since I did not think it proper to be alone with one man, I was alone with three. I'm sure she'd agree I acted most wisely."

"There's a lot more than three men. The whole crew should be coming back by now."

"Even better. What more fitting place to ensure my reputation than a shipload of men?"

He frowned, his disappointment obvious. "Yer right. I canna take ye there." He glanced around. "Well, I'm hungry. Surely there's a place we can eat without me having to marry ye first."

"We wouldn't want that." "Not before I eat."

"Let's go toward Westminster," I suggested, "At the worst you can get something from one of the street vendors."

He grinned as we walked away. "Aye, that should impress ye fully, no? We could stand on the side of the street and eat with our hands. Yer fine Robert Campbell would do the same, no doubt."

"Alex, he's not my Robert Campbell, and I don't need to be further impressed. You are quite impressive as is."

"Oh, aye? Well ..." For once he was speechless, and I laughed as we threaded our way through the crowded streets.

"I did it to you," I said.

"What? What did ye do?"

"Made you speechless. You do it to me all the time."

He grinned. "It's fun, no? I like to see yer eyes widen and ye start to speak and then get all red."

"Makes me sound lovely." "Ye are, Mary. With yer dark hair and pale skin it is quite lovely to watch ye change color. I could watch ye all day." He fought his smile. "Or all night." I felt my cheeks redden, and he roared. I shook my head at him with a smile.

We wandered through the streets without direction. I could not think of another man with whom I had been so relaxed. Will, of course, but he was my brother. At one point a carriage came closer than it should have, and Alex grabbed my arm and pulled me into a doorway next to him. Except for that moment he did not touch me at all, but we were comfortable together. We bypassed the chocolate houses where someone might know me and found a small inn that looked respectable. Alex had his food at last and I had tea. I watched the girl pour and looked through the steam at him.

"How exactly am I to explain this to Louisa?"

"Well," he said, tearing a piece of bread off the loaf between us. "Given a wee bit of luck, ye'11 have little explaining to do."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that supposedly Will took ye off and the two of ye will return home together. He'll have more explaining to Betty than ye'll have to Louisa."

"And Will agreed to this?"

"Obviously." He looked at me over his cup as he drank. "Of course, he did threaten to kill me if I touched ye, so ye'll please tell him I dinna overstep myself." I tried not to smile.

And failed. "Aye. Ye laugh, but I respect that. I'd do the same to any man coming after my sister."

"I see." I laughed at him.

"I doubt that ye do, but never mind that now. I've got yer company for an hour or two and I'm content."

"And I yours."

He leaned back in his chair and watched me. "Is that good?"

"Alex, I've sacrificed my reputation for two hours with you."

"I'm worth the sacrifice." He grinned and I laughed again.

"So you say. Now, tell me, when you stuck your head in the landscaper's door, did you say you were my brother?"

"No, I said ye were leaving with yer brother and to please tell the Countess." He took another piece of bread.

"You were masquerading as Will?"

"No." He shook his head. "I doubt that anyone would take me for yer brother. I was masquerading as yer brother's messenger."

"And when Louisa discovers the messenger was a man wearing a hat with eagle feathers, she'll have no idea who it could be."

"The girl dinna even notice me." "Oh, no. Tall blond Scotsmen wearing Highland clothes are an everyday occurrence at a London landscaper's office."

He frowned. "Details. And it's not a hat. It's a bonnet."

"It's a hat." I picked it up from the chair between us.

"Bonnet," he said, and took another bite of bread.

"It matches your plaid."

"This isfeileadh beag." he said.

"Same thing."

"No, nine feet different." At my expression he laughed. "A feileadh mor is a plaid. Eighteen feet long. Ye pleat it about yer waist and throw the rest over yer shoulder. And when it's cold or it rains ye put it over yer head or wrap it about yerself."

"And what are you wearing?"

"A feileadh beag. A kilt. The top is separate. It's easier to wear. I can take the top off and still be decent."

"Well," I said, sipping the last of my tea. "I like it on you. Ye have lovely knees," I teased, mocking his accent. He laughed and stretched out a leg beside the table.

"Always thought it one of my finer points." He nodded toward the door. "It's raining. We'll have to perfect yer story."

I turned to look at the rain. "How will I meet Will?"

"Matthew will bring him to meet us. With the rain we'll have to revise how yer getting home. We have," he said, fishing a pocket watch from the pouch at his waist, "an hour left."

I sat back in my chair. One hour. "How long will you be gone?"

"About ten days, then back for two, then Heave again." "I see."

His eyes met mine. "I'm not pleased about it, lass," he said quietly, "but it was decided upon long ago."

We were silent for a while as he ate. Much as I wanted to beg him to stay, I couldn't, and I searched for another topic for conversation. "Alex," I said at last, "how did you learn English?"

He shrugged. "I was raised speaking Gaelic and English. Some—well, most—of the people in the Highlands speak only Gaelic, but English is the language of power. We spoke English at home."

"And French? How did you learn that?"

"A tutor. And travel. Necessity as well. I spent a year in Paris when I was sixteen. And I trade with France."

"We're at war with France."

He paused, then spoke. "England is at war with France."

"But our countries are united now. It's been five years."

"United, aye, but we're
no’ the
same." He paused, looking at his food, then back at me, his expression guarded. "The Union doesna sit well in most of Scotland, lass. There's many that think Scotland was sold to the English for the money, and I'm one of them. When the Union began we were told that there would be no tariffs on malt and linens and salt, but there are now, and taxes on my land and everything I sell. I have to pay taxes to keep what I already own. It's been a rough few years, with tariffs restricting what I can sell and taxes taking all the profit. Add that to no rep reservation and it's
no’ a
pretty situation. When ye take away a people's livelihood and their say in government and ye rub their noses in it, it's
no’ verra
wise." He took a drink from his cup.

"So what will happen?"

He leaned back against the chair and looked at me evenly. "In the short run, I don't know. In the long run, England will win."

"Why?"

"Well, study yer history. Look at the Romans. Look at what happened in Ireland. What the English are geniuses at is colonizing. Like the Romans. What do ye do when ye want the land and the people to work for ye, but the land's leaders are against ye? Ye buy what leaders ye can. Those ye canna buy ye remove. When more leaders spring up, ye remove them as well, and this time yer harsher in yer reprisals and ye make communication between factions difficult with yer army in the middle. Then ye take away what means they have of supporting themselves. Now, at the same time, ye prevent them educating their bairns, so they are poor and ignorant. Eventually ye win. If not in that generation, then the next. Ye have to have a large military presence, of course, to make it work. If yer lucky, the leaders will fight amongst themselves. That's what happened in Ireland. If the Irish had united, it might have been a different ending. It's the same in Scotland. If the clans do not unite, eventually we'll be defeated."

"But the Romans never took Scotland," I said, trying to remember my history.

"They never took the Highlands," he growled. "They were all over the Lowlands. But yer right, the Scots pushed them back and did the same to the English under Wallace and Robert the Bruce four hundred years ago. But I dinna think we'll see that again."

"What will you do?"

"Survive. That's why I'm in London, trying to find a way to survive. England is too powerful not to deal with. I dinna ken what will happen. The way we've dealt with England before hasna always been successful for Scotland. But that may change. Who kens, maybe some miracle will occur." I felt my eyes widen.

"You think James Stewart will return," I said. He stared at me, his fork halfway to his mouth. "I've not mentioned the man." "But you do think he will return."

His tone was cautious. "Until he's dead, that will be a possibility."

"Will you join him?"

He frowned and shook his head. "I dinna like the man. To tell the truth, Mary, I dinna like anyone in the government, any government." He called for the gill. "Enough seriousness. I've a mind to see Westminster Abbey, and it's near to where we're to meet Will. Does that meet with yer agreement?" When I hesitated he leaned forward. "I'll keep ye safe, Mary," he said solemnly. "Are ye willing to go or shall we stay here until our hour is gone?"

I met his eyes and then smiled. "Since my reputation is in tatters, why not? All we need to do now is meet someone I know."

"Dinna say that. I'd have to marry ye at once."

"We wouldn't want that," I said, shaking my head.

"Oh, no." He laughed and leaned forward, whispering. "I'd have to see yer beautiful face every day. It would be the first thing I'd see when I opened my eyes." He watched me redden and he laughed. "I told ye, it's fun to make ye speechless."

"Alex...." I began, quite flustered.

"Do ye find it a repulsive thought?"

I was saved from answering by the arrival of the girl. Alex pulled his watch out again and consulted it. "That's beautiful," I said, and he handed it to me with a pleased smile.

"I bought it this morning." The watch was a brilliant gold, the case filigreed with an oak pattern, the face white with Roman numerals. Today's date was engraved inside the cover.

"Trenchant and Son," I read, glancing at him. The watchmakers were well known for their quality workmanship. I handed it back to him. "It's lovely, Alex," I said. "You have exquisite taste."

He nodded. "Aye, I do. And in watches as well." He took the watch and put it away in the bag at his waist, his color rising. "I felt like celebrating," he said, glancing up at me.

"So do I," I said softly, and felt my own flush.

"Good," he said, standing and wrapping his half plaid around me with a smile. "Then it's as it should be."

Westminster Abbey was quiet, few people present. I showed Alex around and he was an avid student, asking questions and looking everywhere. He was subdued as we walked through the Lady Chapel where queens Elizabeth and
Mary
Tudor were entombed and where Mary Stuart rested. When we got to the
poets’ alcove
we stopped and I pointed out different poets. I said one of my favorites was John Donne, who was buried at St. Paul's.

"Oh, aye," Alex said. '
No
man is an island, unto himself... Good words to live by." He looked down at the stones as we walked. "My favorite poet isna buried here either. Andrew Marvell. Do ye ken his work?" I shook my head. "I'll give ye part of a stanza, lass." He circled me slowly with a
half-smile
, his eyes dark, his voice caressing me. I stared into space as the words poured over me and felt his gaze on each part of me as he spoke. I'd never felt so aware of my own body, nor had my body ever responded so forcefully. I closed my eyes and savored it.

Had we but world enough, and time.

This coyness, lady, were no crime.

We would sit down, and think which way

To walk, and pass our long love's day....

An hundred yews should go to praise

Thane
eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;

Two hundred to adore each breast,

But thirty thousand to the rest;

An age at least to every part

And the last age should show your heart.

For, lady, you deserve this state,

Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear

Times
winged chariot hurrying near...