The Highlander (21 page)

"If I had known ye were a lass of such spirit, I'd no' have asked ye to dance." "And why is that?"

"Because I ken my brother will be in a sulk and looking for a way to pin my ears back for the doing of it. Still, I wouldna trade the experience for a hundred dances with any other lass. 'Tis a pity Jamie met you first."

She scoffed and did her best to imitate his Scots brogue. ' 'And why would ye be saying a thing like that, Niall Graham, wi' yer brother betrothed to marry the fair Gillian?"

"I'll not be betting my best horse on that race," he said. "Gillian isn't the right woman for Jamie and he knows it."

"Is that a fact?"

The look in his gaze was light and teasing, yet his tone was serious. "Aye. You are better suited to him."

"Give me one reason you would think that."

"You give a man room to breathe, and yet you are not as shy and modest as the average maid," he said. '"Tis something that would please my brother."

"Then I shall work on acquiring more maidenly reserve," she said, "and hang your brother."

Niall threw back his head and laughed, then he grabbed her and spun her around once more before he led her back to the table. She did not miss the openmouthed stares the Grahams directed at them as they threaded their way through the tables.

She was making good use of her fan when the music of a more sedate song began, and Sophie asked Arabella if she intended to dance.

"Not for a while. I always eat too much at these gatherings," she replied, "and now my laces are too tight."

"Dinna fret," Fraser said, whipping out his knife. "I can cut them with my dirk and ease yer suffering."

"And what will ye be doing about my humiliation when my dress falls off, ye big lout?" Arabella asked, and everyone laughed.

More wine was poured and Sophie, feeling warm, comfortable and uninhibited, stole a glance in Jamie's direction. She saw his dark head bent next to Gillian's red one, as if he was listening intently to something she said, with his face close enough to her bosom to see down to her toes.

Niall followed her gaze and put his arm around her, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I hate to see a lassie pine, so if it's a braw lad ye be looking for, I don't think you can do any better than me."

Bran cuffed him on the head. "She isn't looking for a braw lad, but a man, so that leaves you out. Now, if it is a man you are needing..." His chest, she noticed, expanded greatly at this point. "You need look no further than me."

Fraser, who had been studying her for some time, asked, "How was your time at Danegaeld with Jamie?"

Sophie laughed. "Cold. It took a week for me to get warm. I did find the hunting lodge quite accommodating. I would love to see it in the summertime."

"And Jamie? How was he toward you, lass?"

' 'He never seemed to forget he was the chief of the Grahams and laird of the castle, and he had a poor memory for recalling I was neither a Scot nor a Graham."

The sparkle in Fraser's eyes told her that he approved of her, even before he said, "I've been waiting a long time to see a lass with the fire to match his."

"I doubt my fire is of any interest to your brother, for he seems to go out of his way to dampen it whenever he has the chance," she said. "I don't think he is aware I'm in the room.

He is otherwise occupied, in case you have not noticed."

"Oh, he is aware all right. It's just that Jamie is most observant when he appears the least interested."

Someone was playing the pipes, a lively tune, but not as lively as the galliard. A few couples got up to dance. Niall took her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. "Come on, lass, and I'll teach ye how to dance the Highland reel."

Fraser grabbed Arabella and followed them. "We'll make it a foursome reel."

Sophie laughed through almost the entire dance, and found the circular figure of the reel to be quite beautiful, the gliding steps easy to learn, although everyone seemed to be doing different ones—and that was part of the magic of it all.

So, she simply threw caution to the wind and joined in the fun.

It was much later, when exhaustion set in, that Sophie realized Scots danced until they were worn out. Having almost reached that point, she realized she needed to reserve enough energy to walk back to her room.

She left the dancing and returned to the table and her glass of wine.

Only once did she venture forth with enough daring to glance at Jamie. He must have been watching her with his cool, moss-colored eyes evaluating and forming comparisons, for quite some time. Even with his face shadowed there was something powerful and moving about him, and she could see the qualities he possessed marked him different from all the other men in the room.

Damne...damne...damne,
she whispered in French.

How dare he be so utterly desirable.

Whenever she looked at him, she saw he was clear-headed and responsive, and even when joining in the merrymaking, he was watchful and ready to deal with whatever happened. She was glad she had had the time with him at Danegaeld, for it was there that she came to know the real Jamie, and saw he could relax.

He just rarely did it.

She knew it did not serve her well to continue her observation of him. Jamie was as lost to her as yesterday.

For the rest of the evening she was content to laugh and clap from her chair, save for one time when Fraser would not take no for an answer and pulled her back out to dance with him and the others.

Once the dance was over she returned to her chair and watched while the others danced until they could dance no longer. When the celebrating was over she felt an odd sort of euphoric sadness, and realized that she would never know if it was Jamie or the wine that prompted it.

_Fourteen

There's a snake hidden in the grass.

—Virgil (70-19
B
.C.),
Roman poet

When Vilain Rogeaux returned from his afternoon ride his butler announced he had a visitor waiting in the parlor. "He said his name is Mirren MacDougal. He claims he is in the service of William Arthur Wentworth, the Duke of Rockingham. He said he was certain you would be familiar with the duke."

Vilain nodded. "I will change clothes, and then I will see him in the library."

Vilain wondered why a Scot would be in the employ of the illustrious duke, for he knew Rockingham to be a shrewd Machiavellian, an effective secret agent and a spymaster for the crown. He had heard, not too long ago, that there was some sort of falling out between King George and Rockingham but, at the time, Vilain had not been all that interested in something that went on in England.

After changing clothes, Vilain went below stairs to see what Mr. MacDougal had to say.

He did not care for MacDougal's sort the moment he walked through the library door and saw him standing near a map of the world. However, Vilain had learned not to let his first impressions interfere with what was at hand.

"Please, have a seat," he said, and indicated the chair on the opposite side of the desk. "I must admit I am surprised to learn a Scot is in the employ of the Duke of Rockingham, and that he has requested a moment of my time. I am somewhat puzzled by the purpose of this visit. You are aware that I am French and not a Scot?"

"Aye. I heard that ye were a native of France, and have lived in Scotland for the past ten years or so."

"That is correct. Now, how may I be of service?"

"Do you know the Duke of Rockingham?" "I know o/him."

"And do you know that he was betrothed to a cousin of the King of France?" "No, I did not."

"The lass has disappeared and I have been hired to find her."

"I'm sorry, but I fail to understand why you have come to me," Vilain said.

"The duke has learned that his betrothed fled France on a ship, the
Aegir,
which was bound for Norway. During the great storm a month ago the
Aegir
ran aground on the rocks beneath Monleigh Castle."

It was starting to come together now, but Vilain did not let on. "Yes, I remember. Everyone was lost. Belongings and bits of the ship washed ashore for two weeks after the tragic event."

"The duke feels his betrothed did not die along with the others, since hers was the only body that was not found. He has hired me to contact everyone within a sizable radius of the shipwreck, to see if anyone has any knowledge of the lass."

"Do you have a name?"

"The name she used was Sophie d'Alembert."

Vilain nodded. "The name means nothing to me. So, tell me, what is it that you would like me to do?"

"The Duke of Rockingham is offering a sizable reward for any information about the survival of his betrothed, or information concerning her whereabouts. The King of France has also offered a large reward."

"I see. Well, I do thank you for sharing this with me. If I should come across any information how should I get word to you?"

"You can send it to me at the Black Bull Inn. I will be staying there from time to time."

After MacDougal left, Vilain thought back over the events of the past few days. There was little doubt in his mind that the Sophie with no last name, who was brought to Monleigh Castle by James Graham was Sophie d'Alembert. He was not familiar with the iiame d'Alembert, but it was perfectly possible that the family could be related to Louis XV. Bourbon blood could be very important.

Vilain decided that before letting anyone know of Sophie's identity and her whereabouts, he needed to find out just how badly the King of France wanted her. It had been Vilain's dream, since his exile by the king ten years ago, to return to France and reclaim his home and confiscated lands.

Question was, would the king be willing to restore these things in exchange for Sophie?

He decided to accept the Grahams' invitation to dinner tonight.

*
  
*
  
*

There was more dancing in the Great Hall after dinner, but Sophie did not feel the same joy and enthusiasm that she felt when she danced a few days ago.

"Are you certain you don't want to stay and dance some more?" Bran asked. "I could easily dance with you all evening."

"I would like to, Bran, but I think I danced and drank too much the other night. Tonight I am very tired. I think I shall retire early."

"You could drink a glass of wine and watch us dance," Arabella said.

"Thank you, no. Perhaps tomorrow."

"Good night, then," Arabella said, and kissed her on the cheek. "Shall I check on you when I come to bed?"

"Let me walk you to your room," Fraser offered.

"Thank you, Fraser, but there is no need. I have learned my way about and shall have no trouble finding my room tonight. All I need is sleep and tomorrow I shall be fully recovered."

Sophie said good-night to each of Jamie's brothers save Calum, who, as always, seemed content to sit some distance away and watch her through suspicious eyes.

Often she would see him with Gillian, their heads together and deep in conversation. They reminded her of a couple of spies, and perhaps they were, for nothing seemed to escape their notice.

Faith, if she did not know better, she would swear there was something going on between Calum and Gillian. With their matched glares and brooding natures, they seem better suited to each other than Jamie and Gillian ever could.

Still, it was none of her business what went on here, and the sooner she could come up with a plan to leave, the better.

She knew Rockingham would have men looking for her, and more than likely King Louis would have a reward on her head. She would have to keep moving. The thing that held her up was money—that, and the fact she had no particular destination in mind. She would have to find a way to sell some of her belongings, and as for a destination, France and England were out, and so was Norway.