Chapter Twenty-One

Emily gazed around the private dining room at Kilchurn Castle. It was nothing like the one at the MacGregors’. Unlike their round table that seated only a dozen or so, this long, polished mahogany table could seat nearly two score, and it was near full this evening.

The Duke of Argyll sat at the head, with the Earl of Bute to his right and his brother Henry to his left. Since they had obviously followed English etiquette, as the dowager Countess of Woodhaven, she was seated above the salt, which put her next to Gavin Campbell. Directly across from her sat the head of Clan Cameron, a man with piercing eyes and steel-gray hair and, apparently, the only member of his regiment, apart from a daughter, who was sober. Thankfully, other than his somewhat-foxed son Neal, who was seated beside him, the others had been relegated to the Great Hall with other visiting clans for the evening meal. Ian’s brothers and uncles had been sent there as well. Ian had been invited to the private chamber, albeit at the far end of the table. Even though the position was not one of prominence, she thought it boded well for the clan’s recognition that he was included.

Hopefully, she would have an opportunity to talk with the earl later, since there had been only flurried greetings earlier.

“I am so glad that you were able to attend.” Gavin leaned slightly toward her. “And I must apologize for not calling on you as I said I would.”

“That is quite understandable,” Emily answered. “I realize how important it is to get the harvest in.”

“There is that,” he agreed, “but I was called away to Inveraray and only just returned two days ago.”

That caught her interest, since Rory had reported the dragoons going there. “It must have been important business to take you away at such a critical time.”

He smiled. “I assure you that it was.”

Drat. Was he going to play cat-and-mouse? Emily smiled back. “I hope it was not dangerous?”

He held her gaze. “Dare I hope you would be concerned if it were?”

She returned his look. “Of course. Dragoons were spotted passing by Strae Castle, not very long ago, heading south.”

Gavin looked disconcerted for a moment, then he shrugged. “The general at Fort William probably sent them on a mission.”

Or maybe your uncle did, she thought, although she didn’t voice the words. However, she’d spent five years in London Society observing how gossips gleaned their information. “But what kind of mission, do you suppose?”

“I… It could be any number of things. Highwaymen. A clan dispute. Cattle-reiving, even.” He kept his smile in place. “These are the Highlands, you know.”

Emily gave him a wide-eyed look that would have done Lorelei proud. “Forgive me for not understanding—I am still learning about Highland ways—but are those not trivial matters? I thought—and I may be wrong—but are the dragoons not here to ensure there are no more uprisings or rebellions?”

He nodded. “That is one of their duties.”

“I have not heard any such rumors.” She touched his arm briefly. “Surely, nothing nearby?”

Gavin looked at his sleeve where her fingers had been and then put his hand over hers for a moment. “I have not heard any rumors, either.”

She withdrew her hand as casually as she could. Obviously, this conversation wasn’t getting her any useful information, so perhaps it was best to change the subject. She knew the dragoons had stopped at Inveraray and that some of them had ridden south toward Bute, but had they gone there? That was the real information she wanted.

“Well, since the earl is here, I might ask him later if he has heard of any disturbances that we might be concerned about.”

Something flashed in Gavin’s eyes, but it was gone quickly and replaced with another smile. “I was not aware that you knew the earl.”

“Oh, yes,” Emily answered with her own smile. “We met on several occasions when my husband was still alive.” She didn’t add that on those occasions she was usually paying off markers. “It will be good to renew our acquaintance.”

Gavin’s smile wavered, but before he could respond, the younger Cameron spilled his wine. Unfortunately, most of it landed in Juliana’s lap, since she’d been seated next to him.

“You bloody oaf!” She stood and started blotting the stain on her skirt with a napkin to no avail. “If you cannot—”

“What did ye call me?” He rose, too.

“Juliana.” Emily gave her sister a warning look. Conversation had stopped and everyone was watching.

Her sister chose to ignore her. “I called you a bloody oaf.”

He looked nonplussed, his face turning momentarily white before reddening. Out of the corner of her eye, Emily saw Ian disengage from a woman who had been holding on to his arm and push his chair back. She didn’t have time to consider who that woman was other than she was very pretty. She just hoped Ian would reach Juliana before Neal turned violent.

“Ye called me a bloody oaf?” he repeated as if his ears had not heard correctly.

“I did and you are…umph!” She didn’t finish as Ian pulled her out of harm’s way.

“Ye’ll nae strike this woman, Cameron,” Ian threatened, “or ye’ll answer to me.”

Neal blinked, as if considering the fact that he might actually be harmed, and Emily sighed. Foxed as he was, it would take only a mere push to put him on the ground. She could probably do it herself, so she hoped Ian would restrain himself now that the immediate danger was past.

And then Neal Cameron did the strangest thing. He laughed. Laughed. As Ian raised a fist, he held both hands up. “Ye misunderstand, MacGregor. I’ve nae met a woman who dared to call me an oaf. Let alone a bloody one.” He wobbled a little, then gestured toward Juliana. “I think she will make me a fine wife!”

Juliana stared at him, speechless for once. Then her eyes narrowed and she made a sound very much like a hissing cat before turning and running from the room.

His father yanked him into his chair. “Shut yer mouth.”

His son just grinned. “Aye, a mighty fine wife.”

…

Ian switched his focus to Emily, who’d gotten up and was hurrying out of the room after her sister. If the look of distress on her face hadn’t been so dire, he would have laughed at the pure fury on Juliana’s as she’d stormed from the room. He suspected it didn’t have to do so much with her ruined gown as it did with Neal’s announced intention. Of course, the man was well into his cups and probably wouldn’t remember a word he said, but Juliana’s indignant reaction was near priceless. Ian doubted even Rory could have goaded her into such a temper.

“I daresay our entertainment has begun.” Gavin took a sip of wine. “And quite impromptu as well.”

Ian turned his attention to him. What had Campbell been talking to Emily about that, judging from how often she’d smiled at him, had entertained her? He’d been sitting too far away at the other end of the table to be able to hear what was said. It hadn’t helped that Breena Buchanan had managed to seat herself next to him and had not stopped talking. It had taken him less than five minutes to remember why he’d ended his very brief courtship of her a year ago. The lass chattered more than a cluster of squirrels amassing acorns.

Still, he didn’t need to hear the exact words to know that Gavin Campbell had been flirting with Emily. He had actually put his hand over hers. Ian felt a muscle in his jaw flex as he tried to ignore the fact that she had actually touched Campbell first…and had she leaned in just a little bit? Breena had plucked his own sleeve about that time asking, with a pout, if he was paying attention. He was, but not to her.

The Cameron laird looked up at him. “Do ye have another point to make?”

Ian very much would have liked to make another point, only one directed at Campbell to leave Emily alone. But he was drawing attention to himself now that the wine episode had passed. Neither Argyll nor his brother had made any attempt to intervene, although they were watching from their end of the table, as was Lord Bute.

He sighed. If there was one person here tonight that he needed to curry favor from, it was the former prime minister. Getting into a verbal altercation with either the young Cameron or Gavin Campbell would only make the MacGregors seem more like outlaws. Certainly, it would not help his cause in any way.

“Nae.” He looked at the blurry-eyed son. “Just a bit of advice, though.” He doubted the man would remember, but he felt an obligation to Emily’s sister. “Miss Caldwell tends to mean what she says. If I were ye, I’d let that fish swim away.”

Neal winked at him. Or attempted to, anyway. Because of his inebriated state, it looked more like he’d gotten something caught in his eye. But his next words were clear, so he wasn’t quite as drunk as Ian thought.

“I do like reeling in a fightin’ fish.” He grinned rather crookedly.

“How interesting,” Gavin said.

…

“I cannot go back in there!” Juliana stopped stomping around the room that served as a ladies’ retreat and looked at Emily, Lorelei, and Fiona, all of whom had followed her out. “Have a carriage brought around. I am going home.”

Emily took a deep breath. “Remember that our host is the Duke of Argyll. He might consider it rude for you to leave.”

Lorelei looked at her, horrified. “Surely not after her gown has been ruined!”

Fiona tilted her head. “The stain could be removed if we could get some cold water and soap.”

“Then she’d have to walk around in a wet gown,” Lorelei said.

“’Tis better than to have it ruined.”

Juliana rolled her eyes. “The dress does not matter that much. I simply do not want to have anything more to do with that nasty man.”

Fiona nodded. “Neal Cameron is right spoiled, he is. Likes to have his way, since in Scotland, he is still considered the laird’s son.”

“Well, he will not have his way with me,” Juliana answered.

“Doona fash,” Fiona said. “My brothers will protect ye.”

Juliana gave her a skeptical look. “All your brothers?”

“Well, truth be told, I am nae sure about Devon.”

“Or Rory,” Juliana said drily. “He’d probably be more than happy to give me to that bloody oaf.”

Fiona laughed. “Ye have that all wrong. Rory despises Neal.”

Juliana shrugged. “All the more reason then, I would think.”

“Why does Rory not like Neal?” Emily asked before her sister could start to rant on.

“’Twas a girl. Three years ago at a gathering of clans, Rory had his heart set—or at least his eye—on a neighboring MacFarlane lass. When Neal realized it, he decided to win her away.” Fiona paused. “A proscribed MacGregor didna have much chance against a Cameron.”

“If she was that shallow, then Rory should count his blessings,” Emily said.

“Och, aye. He didna pine for long.” Fiona paused once more. “But the lass came to Rory the next day with bruises on her arms and told him Neal had raped her.”

Emily could practically hear the silence around her. “What happened?”

“Nothing. When Rory went to confront him, he denied it and said the girl was lying. His father vouched for him.”

“So nothing came of it?”

“She didna get with child and the laird of Clan MacFarlane let it go.” Fiona sighed. “Right pretty she was, too.”

Which reminded Emily of the woman who’d been sitting next to Ian. She was pretty, too. Could it be the same woman? “Is the girl here tonight?”

Fiona shook her head. “Her father married her off to a Hamilton widower of some years who needed a young wife to look after his eight children. They moved to Glasgow.”

Emily felt empathy for the girl. She hadn’t had to take care of a nest of children and her father would never have forced her into marriage, but the results had been similar.

“Are there no MacFarlanes here tonight then?”

“I doona think so.”

“I noticed two or three other ladies seated at the table. Are they all Campbells?”

“Nae,” Fiona answered. “one is Neal’s sister, Margaret, and the one sitting next to her is her cousin.”

“And the other?” Emily finally asked when it seemed Fiona was not going to volunteer any information on the woman seated next to Ian. His sister looked uncomfortable, and Emily felt a sudden chill.

“That would be Breena Buchanan.”

“And who is she?” Lorelei asked.

Emily silently blessed her sister at that moment. Lorelei no doubt was just curious, but it saved her from having to ask the dreaded question.

Fiona fidgeted with her sleeve. “Last year, Ian paid her some attention.”

Juliana glanced at Emily, then at Fiona. “It seems he still does.”

Emily felt her face heat and quickly looked down to smooth her skirts. Trust Juliana to be so blunt. And yet…she wanted to know if it was true.

“Nae, Ian is only being polite tonight,” Fiona answered. “He decided she was nae the one for him shortly after that.”

Emily fussed with an invisible wrinkle and wondered if he’d told Breena. She certainly didn’t act as though she’d accepted it.

Quite the opposite.

…

By the time the trestle tables had been put up and the benches set aside to make room in the Great Hall for the actual ball, Emily’s nerves were frazzled. A carriage had been brought around for Juliana, since she was adamant she did not want to see or speak to Neal Cameron again. Fiona’s revelation about Breena hadn’t helped, either, especially since the woman was clinging to Ian when Emily finally reentered the hall.

“Is all well?” Gavin asked as he joined her.

No, she wanted to say. While she’d made Juliana’s apologies to the duke, Neal Cameron had overheard and said it was a ridiculous excuse. Before Emily could stop her, Lorelei had then picked up a glass of wine to toss on him. His reflexes were quick for a drunk and he blocked her hand, which unfortunately resulted in the contents spilling onto Lorelei instead. She was now accompanying Juliana home in quite a high temper. Alasdair had gallantly offered to escort them. Emily only hoped he’d still be on speaking terms with her sisters when that journey ended. But Gavin was obviously waiting for an answer.

“As well as can be expected given the unusual circumstances.”

“Most unfortunate for your sisters,” Gavin replied. “Cameron can be quite the oaf, indeed.”

That was the mildest word Juliana had used. While they were waiting on the carriage, she’d added others…lout, cad, swine, buffoon, and cur to name just a few. Perhaps it was just as well she had gone home, since Emily was quite sure the Duke of Argyll would not appreciate her inciting a brawl.

“The music has started.” Gavin broke through her reverie. “May I have the first dance?”

She could hardly refuse, since this was his home. As she laid her hand atop his offered arm, she saw Breena tugging Ian along, and an unfamiliar sharp pain shot through her. Regardless of what Fiona had said, it didn’t look like Ian was making that much of an effort to decline. At least it was a country reel, which would keep them separated much of the dance.

The dance was livelier than those in London, but she picked up the steps quickly enough. She passed Ian several times throughout the turns and twirls and each time their hands touched, however briefly, a tingle ran up her arm. It was not a reaction she had with any other. She wondered if Ian felt it, too. His whisky-colored eyes seemed to darken each time they met.

A good half hour passed before the music finally stopped. Emily was hot and out of breath, although none of the Scots women seemed to be affected. Obviously, they were used to dances lasting four times longer than what she was accustomed to, but it also made her aware that life in the Highlands required a certain amount of fortitude.

“Would you care for some refreshment?” Gavin asked. “There are several beverages to choose from, if you care to walk over.”

Emily glanced toward the far end of the hall where a table had been set up. Ian and Breena were standing near it, and the last place she wanted to be was near them. Before she could politely decline, a servant hurried over and whispered something to Gavin. He scowled slightly, then turned to her.

“You must forgive me. I have a matter to attend to.”

“Of course.” At the moment she was so relieved, she didn’t even care what that matter might be. “I will just take some air.”

He moved away, talking in low tones to the servant. Turning, Emily left the Great Hall and went down the steps to the courtyard. The evening breeze was cool, which felt wonderful on her overly heated skin. Rounding the side of the castle, she entered the gardens through a stone archway and stood for a minute, inhaling the scent of heather lining the walkway.

Several oil lamps suspended on metal poles cast dim light into the shadows. It did not appear to be a manicured garden like the ones on English country estates. Various shrubs and bushes were scattered about, but in the center two chestnut trees towered over a folly similar to the one at Glen Strae. Hearing the strains of music begin again, she decided it would make a good refuge so as not to endure another rigorous dance. And she had no desire to watch Ian with Breena.

She was near the entrance to the folly when she heard a low moan coming from inside. It was followed by another, slightly louder. A whimper. Good heavens! Was an animal hurt? Emily rushed up the three steps and stopped so abruptly she nearly toppled over.

No animal, save for human ones and certainly not hurt at all. In her foolish quest for privacy, she hadn’t considered lovers might be trysting. And not just any lovers.

Devon glared up at her, a half-naked Margaret Cameron in his arms.