Chapter Twenty-Two

“Emily! Lady Woodhaven!”

Ian was calling her name. She gave Devon a cursory look, then turned and practically ran down the path she’d just taken. It would not do to have Ian finding his brother in a compromising position. Especially not with Neal Cameron’s sister. Emily didn’t even want to think about the consequences of that.

“Lady Woodhaven! Are ye out here?”

His voice sounded louder, which meant he must be heading toward the garden. She slipped through the archway and took a deep breath as she smoothed her skirts. “Yes, Mr. MacGregor, I am here…” She hurried toward the front of the castle, colliding with Ian as he rounded the corner. His large hands went around her waist, steadying her.

For a moment, she reveled in their strength. “I…came out to get a bit of fresh air.”

Ian dropped his hands. “I saw ye leave and thought something might be amiss after Campbell walked away so abruptly.”

Had he been watching her? From across the hall? She had thought him engrossed with Breena… The thought that he was not all that enthralled sent a pleasant little shiver through her.

“Are ye cold?”

Without waiting for an answer, Ian removed his frock coat and settled it over her shoulders like a cape. The warmth was comforting, as was the faint, male scent of him. She pulled it closer. “Thank you.”

For a moment, he held her gaze, then let it drift to her lips. Instinctively, she moistened them, tilting her head as he lowered his, brushing softly across her mouth.

“Would ye like to stroll in the garden?”

Reality returned with a jolt. The garden. Drat it all. Devon was in there. As much as she wanted to have the privacy—and definitely more kissing—she couldn’t take the chance of Ian finding his brother.

“I… It is a little chilly out here. Perhaps we should go in.”

Ian narrowed his eyes slightly, then he straightened. “As ye wish, my lady.”

Emily cringed at his formal address, all too aware that he’d taken her suggestion as a personal rejection. But what else could she do?

Ian was silent as they walked around to the front of the castle and mounted the steps to go in. He stopped once they were inside the Great Hall and bowed slightly. “If ye’ll nae be needing my coat…?”

“Oh! Of course.” Since he didn’t attempt to remove it from her, she slipped it off, realizing as she did so that Glenda was glaring at them from not far away. Good heavens! The girl probably thought that they… Emily felt herself blush as she finished the thought herself. It would have been nice if it had happened. Very nice. But it hadn’t. Reluctantly, she handed Ian his coat. He slipped it on just as the musicians started an allemande. On impulse, she laid her hand on his arm.

“Will you dance with me?”

He eyed her warily, probably wondering what kind of a game she was playing. And it was a game of sorts, but not one in which she made up the rules—she would much rather have been out in the garden folly at the moment—but she couldn’t let Ian walk away thinking she had purposely turned him down. She smiled, wishing she were more of a natural flirt like Lorelei.

It still must have had an effect because, after a bit of hesitation, he smiled back. “Aye, if ye like.”

“I do. They are playing an allemande.”

They joined the others on the floor, forming two lines of couples, and extended their paired hands forward as they paraded the length of the Great Hall and back with a series of three steps and a pause. What Emily liked about this dance was that their hands were together throughout.

When the music finally stopped, Ian didn’t release her hands immediately. Instead, he studied her. “Do ye ken what ye do to me, lass?”

Warmth flowed through her that had nothing to do with the exertion from the dance. This was when she should flirt or act coy, but she had never liked such silliness. “I think I do.” When his eyes widened slightly, heat seeped into her face, but she went on. “You affect me, too.” They were standing at the far end of the hall near a door and she glanced at it. “Where does that lead?”

“I suspect into a hallway to the kitchens.”

She gave him a tentative smile. “Would it give us a moment of privacy?”

He grinned. “It might. Would ye—”

“Ah! There ye are!”

Emily turned, not particularly surprised to see Glenda hurrying toward them. The girl had watched them rather sullenly from the sidelines as they danced. Hopefully, she hadn’t heard what had just been said.

“What is it?” Ian asked, a trace of annoyance in his voice.

She didn’t even spare Emily a look. “Ye must come quick. Neal has accused Devon of trifling with his sister and they are about to fight!”

Ian swore under his breath, then gave Emily an apologetic look as he turned away. “We will finish this conversation later.”

Emily silently said a few choice words as he left. Of all the moments to be interrupted. And her trying to protect Devon had been for naught? She looked after Ian for a moment, then followed.

The altercation had moved into the bailey. By the time she got there, Neal and his father were standing beside Margaret who, somehow, looked miraculously well put-together, given the state of her undress when Emily had last glimpsed her. Even her hair was in place… Emily let her gaze slip to Devon. Where had he acquired the skills to be adept at serving as a lady’s maid? Perhaps she didn’t want to know.

At the moment, his fists were balled and he’d assumed a fighter’s stance, even though Ian, Carr, and Rory were all trying to restrain him. He shook them all off and glared at Neal.

“Ye are calling your sister a liar?”

“I am calling ye one!” Neal growled. “I’ll nae have a MacGregor sniffing around my sister’s skirts.”

Margaret frowned. “I told ye, Devon did nothing improper.”

Emily looked down quickly to conceal her surprise. Nothing improper? A woman with her bodice down around her waist, stays undone, and a man with his shirt already out? That wasn’t considered improper?

“I doona believe ye.”

His sister punched his arm. “All we did was go for a wee walk.”

Emily looked up at that, only to find Devon watching her. There was nothing apologetic in his look nor was it pleading. He simply stared, almost as if defying her to say something about what she had seen. Then he looked away.

Neal rubbed his arm. “Ye were in the garden with him nae an hour ago, weren’t ye?”

His father stepped forward. “By God, if ye took liberties with my daughter, I’ll see ye—”

“If I may?” Emily interjected. She looked around the group, pasting on what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Whatever had transpired between Devon and Margaret, the girl certainly wasn’t crying foul which, in Emily’s mind, put the matter to rest. “I happened to be taking the air in the garden earlier, about that time actually, and no one was up and about.” It wasn’t a total lie…the two hadn’t been standing.

“There ye have it then,” Ian said. “Surely ye will take the word of Lady Woodhaven?”

Neal made a disgruntled sound while his father sighed. “For now.”

Carr nodded. “Then I suggest we go back inside before Argyll decides we are all still barbarians.”

That seemed to break the tension. As they made their way toward the entrance, Devon swung his gaze back at her, eyes narrowing slightly, before he turned around to join his brothers.

…

Ian waited a good fifteen minutes until the Camerons showed no more inclination to escalate things, then he signaled to his brothers that they needed to talk. He left through the very door that he and Emily had been going to use to seek some “privacy,” only that privacy was meant—he hoped—to have had a satisfying lustful ending. How ironic that the subject for this discussion was also lust.

Carr appeared a moment later, accompanied by Devon who wasn’t looking quite as angry as Ian thought he should.

“Where’s Rory?”

“He wanted to wait a minute to make sure nae one followed us.”

“Good point.” Although Ian didn’t want to stand around in the hall where servants were sure to be coming through, he also wanted to make sure their temporary departure was not noticed. It felt like minutes passed before Rory finally entered the hallway.

“This way,” Ian said. “If I remember, there is an office of sorts off the kitchen that the housekeeper uses.” Luckily, the door was unlocked. He motioned them through, checking to make sure no servants had seen them. Then he closed the door, leaned against it, and looked at Devon.

“What?” his brother asked.

Ian was holding on to his temper by a thread. “Doona play me for a fool. What transpired between ye and the Cameron lass?”

“Ye heard Margaret. Nothing improper, she said.”

“I ken what I heard her say. I also ken that ye said nothing.”

“There was nae need.” Devon shrugged. “If her kin willna believe her, why should they believe me?”

“Her kin is nae here,” Carr pointed out. “Your kin is. Answer Ian’s question.”

A corner of his mouth quirked. “Why, brother, ye ken ’tis nae honorable to kiss and tell.”

“’Tis nae the time for jest, brother,” Carr replied. “Did ye take advantage of the lass?”

“Nae.” He grew defiant. “I took only what Margaret freely offered.”

“Jesu!” Rory exploded. “Are ye a complete eejit?”

Devon drew his brows together. “Only a fool would turn down what she asked me to do—”

“Lucifer’s horns!” Somehow Ian managed to keep his voice down. “If ye got her with child, ye will have to—”

“We did nae go that far.” Devon looked at each of his brothers. “Ye have my word on that.”

“Still. If ye had been caught in a compromising position, ye would have had to marry the lass,” Carr said.

“And we would have had Camerons for kin,” Rory added. “Ye want that arse of her brother to be a part of us?”

“That is nae going to happen,” Devon shot back. “I told ye, there will be nae bairn.”

“Thank God for that,” Ian replied. “And thank God nae one saw ye in the garden.” “Aye.” Carr nodded. “Had there been a witness, ye would be in deep trouble.”

Devon was quiet for a moment. “I suppose I would.”

It wasn’t like his brother to acquiesce so easily, but they’d already been gone long enough. “We’d best get back to the festivities.” He gave Devon a warning look. “I hope ye learned yer lesson.”

To which his brother didn’t reply.

…

Emily watched as Ian disappeared through the door at the far end of the hall, followed by two of his brothers. In another minute, Rory left as well. She suspected they were going to give Devon a stern dressing down, but at least he didn’t need to admit to more than he wanted to. Guilt niggled at her for telling a lie, but the consequences of his behavior would have had far more serious repercussions if she had admitted the truth. Besides, if she hadn’t been so naïve to think an animal had been hurt in the folly, she wouldn’t have stumbled across the tryst in the first place. Neither Devon nor Margaret were innocents, obviously, but it truly was not her business.

“What has you so contemplative, my dear Lady Woodhaven?”

She turned abruptly to see Lord Bute standing a few feet away. She’d been so wrapped in thought that she hadn’t heard or seen him approach. Not that she could tell him what she had been thinking about.

“I must apologize, Lord Bute. I fear I was simply woolgathering.” She dipped a quick curtsy. “How good of you to attend the ball.”

He made a small bow. “Well, one does not often refuse a duke’s invitation.”

Emily smiled at him. “I suspect, as a former prime minister, you would be allowed.”

He smiled back. “I always enjoyed your quick repartee, my lady.”

She gave him a droll look. “You may be the only one, my lord.”

“Certainly not. I daresay many enjoyed your wit.”

“Other than Albert, of course.”

“Then he was more the buffoon than I thought him,” Lord Bute said. “And forgive me for being blunt.”

Emily shook her head. “I prefer that you be honest, even if it is blunt.”

He gave her a thoughtful look, all trace of lightheartedness gone. “Actually, that is the reason I am here. I wanted to talk to you about the bill my son is going to propose.”

“Do you mean about reinstating the MacGregor name?” Emily hoped her tone sounded casual. “I think that is long overdue.”

He studied her. “Do you?”

“Of course. It is rather ridiculous for an entire clan to be proscribed for events that began during Mary, Queen of Scots’ reign.”

“Well, there have been other incidents over time,” he answered. “For example, Rob Roy did not exactly add accolades to the family name.”

“I suppose not,” she acknowledged, “but I am learning that cattle-reiving is somewhat of a Highland tradition.”

“It is, at that.” He smiled and then he sobered. “But more importantly, you need to know how reinstating the MacGregors to their full status may affect you. Specifically, the deed to your holdings.”

Emily frowned. “King George issued the decree for that deed himself.”

“And I am sure he meant for you to keep it.” He hesitated. “But there is the chance that once the MacGregors are restored, they will ask for the deed to be revoked.”

She frowned. “Do you mean…all of it? The castle and the lands?”

“I do not know that for certain, but it is a possibility that you should be aware of.” He reached over to pat her hand. “I wanted you to know.”

She stared after the earl in stunned silence as he left her side. She would lose everything. Her sisters would not have a Season next spring. They wouldn’t even have a home if she lost Strae Castle. Surely, Ian wouldn’t do that. Then the reality of the situation struck with the force of a tidal wave.

It might not be Ian’s decision. He would be the official head of the clan once more and he would have to do what was best for the clan. She understood that.

But what was best for Clan MacGregor probably didn’t include three Sassenachs.