The Highland Chieftain

by Amy Jarecki

  Mairi pictured herself as a prized heifer being led by her sire as they approached the throne. Queen Anne sat holding a scepter, her back so straight, she looked to be laced to an iron rod. Her Highness wore a crown atop swirls of brown locks, looking on with a frown that receded into her double chin. Indeed, the woman had aged in the past year.

  “The Right Honourable the Earl of Cromartie and the Lady Mairi MacKenzie,” the master of ceremonies announced.

  On cue, Mairi curtsied, bowing her head. If only she could drop to her knees and grovel at Her Majesty’s feet and bemoan how poorly her father had behaved toward the man she loved.

  The queen leaned forward with a pinch to her brow. “I say, Lady Mairi, you were formerly engaged to wed Lord Seaforth, were you not?”

  “She was, indeed,” Da said before Mairi uttered a word.

  “I bid you hold your tongue, Cromartie. My question was not addressed to you.” Her Majesty returned her attention to Mairi. “I do hope you will find this royal ball rewarding.”

  Mairi cringed, the weight of her misery sinking to her toes. A quick exit would be my greatest reward. “One can never be certain, Your Highness.”

  “You are a lovely young woman. Many a maid would give their dowries for tresses such as yours.”

  “Indeed, she is bonny, thank you, Your Highness,” Mairi’s father said, a beaming smile stretched across his lips.

  With a flick of the queen’s wrist, they were dismissed. Mairi groaned under her breath. She could hear it now, her father spending the evening boasting about how the queen complimented his daughter on her coiffure.

  The hall was a bustle of lords and ladies standing in circles gossiping, no doubt. Above on the gallery musicians were playing, though the dancing had not yet begun. Mairi searched the faces for someone familiar. She hadn’t attended court often, and friends like Janet Cameron rarely visited London, if ever.

  A familiar face came from the crowd—unfortunately not a welcome face. “My lady, it is ever so good to see you,” said the Countess of Seaforth, grasping Mairi’s hands as if she and Mairi were best of friends, which most certainly was not the case. The last time the two had been in the same room, Audrey Kennet, now the Countess of Seaforth, was kissing Mairi’s intended.

  Completely at a loss for words, Mairi’s jaw dropped as she searched for the woman’s husband. The earl’s formidable size usually made him easy to spot in a crowd, but Seaforth was nowhere to be seen.

  To make things worse, Her Ladyship kept ahold of Mairi’s hands and looked to Cromartie. “I hope you do not mind my absconding with your daughter before the dancing commences.” She raised a fan to her cheek and leaned in. “Ladies’ chat, if you will.”

  Nodding, Da flicked his wrist. “Very well, but stay nearby. I have many introductions to make.”

  Mairi allowed the woman, who by all rights should be her archenemy, to pull her through the crowd to a window seat. Lady Seaforth sighed as if relieved to be on the outer fringe of the throng. “Yours is the only familiar face I’ve seen at this entire gathering.”

  Mairi took a seat beside the countess, still craning her neck and searching the swarm of finely dressed courtiers. “Where is His Lordship?”

  “Alas, Seaforth sailed this very morn with the Earl of Dartmouth.” Huffing, Audrey fanned herself—it was quite a lovely fan, painted with a pastoral scene. “The queen asked him to be part of an envoy to initiate peace discussions with the members of the Grand Alliance.”

  Why must Mairi’s luck continue to grow worse? She needed Seaforth’s influence with her father. Just because he’d intervened to see to Dunn’s release, things hadn’t been set to rights by far. “’Tis a great honor for him,” Mairi said, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice. “I truly hope he is successful in bringing peace to the Continent.”

  “I hope this venture is successful, indeed. It is ever so lonely to be without him, and he hasn’t even been away a whole day as of yet.”

  Mairi flexed her fingers. A good strangling simply wouldn’t do. Did this woman not realize how dreadful she had made Mairi’s life? Worse, her words were like rubbing salt into a wound. Without Seaforth for a day? Try visiting him in your father’s gaol, no less, and then traveling to London and enduring the attentions of inquisitive courtiers while being prodded by one’s own father. “I’m certain you must be out of sorts,” she mumbled drily.

  The countess gave Mairi a long look, then patted her chest. “Forgive me. I didn’t lead you over here to talk about my woes. I wanted to say that I have thought about you a great deal since…”

  “Since?” Mairi asked.

  “Since I married Reid.” The woman blushed. “I want you to know I was unaware of Reid’s promise until the day I arrived at Brahan Castle and met you.”

  “Truly?” Mairi held in a snort. That was the very day Seaforth rescinded their betrothal.

  “I feel somewhat responsible for your current state of affairs and want to offer my help. I found love and ever so much want to see you happy as well.” Lady Audrey patted Mairi’s arm. “Were you aware that Seaforth spoke to your father about releasing Mr. MacRae?”

  “Da mentioned he sent a missive to Castle Leod, though poor Mr. MacRae will have to endure another fortnight behind bars at least.”

  “Such a travesty. MacRae is a good man. Never in any way would he deserve to be incarcerated.”

  “No. His only crime is giving his heart.”

  “I feel badly for you.”

  “For me?”

  Lady Audrey nodded. “Though I do not regret what transpired between my husband and you, I am not without guilt. And I most certainly sympathize with your plight.” She tapped her lips. “Oh dear, I’m afraid I’m not very good at apologizing…Know this: If you should ever require my help, it will be given. All you need to do is ask.”

  Tingles fanned out across the backs of Mairi’s arms. Oddly, she felt little resentment toward this woman. In fact, Audrey seemed quite human and endearing. “If I can manage to survive the next fortnight without my father promising my hand to anyone aside from Duncan MacRae, I will consider myself fortunate.”

  “What are your plans after?”

  Mairi shrugged, though she had thought of little else. “We will return to Castle Leod. And with luck, somehow news of our arrival will reach Eilean Donan.”

  “Hmm.” The countess arched an eyebrow. “It does sound like you have something brewing.”

  “Brewing, but not yet ready for enactment.”

  “Once again, if I can assist…”

  “You shall be the first to know. In fact, I believe you are the only person in all of Britain who has taken my side.”

  “Seaforth has your side.”

  Groaning, Mairi looked to the opulent ceiling. “And he is on the Continent.”

  Audrey’s shoulders dropped. “He is. But not forever. My husband and I would love to see you and MacRae happy.”

  A contredanse began. The countess raised her fan to her lips and leaned closer. “The only good thing about the earl’s departure is that no one will expect me to dance.”

  “Do you not care for dancing?”

  “I’m hopelessly clumsy. I’d much rather be in the orchestra.”

  Mairi stifled a nervous laugh. “But that would be scandalous.”

  Audrey gave a knowing roll of her eyes. “Women are only allowed to perform at private recitals. I’ve heard the same drivel my entire life.”

  “You must be very accomplished. What, pray tell, do you play?”

  “Harpsichord.” The countess giggled ever so endearingly. Of all the noblewomen Mairi had met, Audrey Kennet MacKenzie surely had a way of brightening things. “The dance master at my finishing school said I would be better suited for the orchestra to save gentlemen’s toes.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “He most certainly did. Until I met Seaforth, I believed myself to be the stalwart wallflower for any ball.”

  “I have been at a great many ga
therings, and I’ll certainly put forth that you are no wallflower, m’lady, and I doubt you ever were.”

  “There you are,” said Da as he pushed through the crowd with the Earl of Buchan on his heels. “I thought I told you to stay nearby.”

  Mairi sighed. “Goodness, Father, at least we didn’t take a stroll in the courtyard.”

  “Forgive me, my lord,” said the countess. “I’m afraid I am not overly fond of crowds. And since Seaforth—”

  “Is home ill,” Mairi hastily interrupted. Goodness gracious, who knew what cunning father would resort to if he discovered Seaforth was on the Continent. And though Da said he’d dispatched a missive to Castle Leod, she wouldn’t be surprised if the letter was still sitting on his writing table awaiting the courier. No, no. It was too easy for something else to go awry.

  The orchestra stopped, followed by a round of polite applause.

  Buchan stepped forward and bowed. Dressed like an Englishman this eve, he wore ivory silk knee-length breeches with his hose secured in place with ribbon of the same color. Brass buttons shone on his stylish navy doublet tailored to fit perfectly over a gold silk waistcoat topped by an equisite cravat. Atop his head, a dark brown periwig had not a hair out of place, as if it had been fashioned for this very occasion.

  Mairi gulped. She didn’t want to be attracted to this man, but of all the courtiers she had met since their arrival in London, Buchan was the most agreeable.

  “M’lady, it is invigorating to see you again. I must say you are absolutely radiant this eve.”

  Mairi bowed her head. “Thank you, m’lord.”

  He shifted his gaze to Audrey. “I hope we are not interrupting, m’lady.”

  “Not at all.”

  Da grasped his lapels and puffed out his chest. “Of course not.”

  It was impossible not to gape at her father with a frown.

  “May I have this dance, Lady Mairi?” asked Buchan.

  Watching her father, she placed her palm in the earl’s hand and allowed him to help her rise. “I would be delighted,” she replied flatly.

  “I’ll be here should you need a confidant,” the countess said as Buchan led her away.

  They joined two lines of dancers right before the orchestra commenced a minuet. The earl smiled. Mairi’s muscles clenched as she forced a polite smile in return. Curses, the situation was a mess. If she outright spurned every potential suitor, Da would choose someone for her. If she encouraged Buchan, the earl from Aberdeen would think she was actually interested—in a man of forty with nine children, the eldest of whom was only three years younger than herself.

  It didn’t matter that Buchan looked handsome in his finery and danced with flawless precision. He needed a woman who already had experience raising children. He needed a seasoned matron who’d be overjoyed to take on a ready-made family.

  As the dance ended, the royal trumpets sounded. All eyes shifted to the throne, where Queen Anne stood with her cabinet members in attendance. “I bid you all a happy celebration. I am afraid my dancing days have passed. I expect the young among us to draw pleasure from the music and dancing as much as I have enjoyed watching you. Adieu.”

  While everyone in the hall reverently bowed and curtsied as Anne gracefully swept out the door, Buchan leaned toward Mairi’s ear. “Poor dear. Since the death of Prince George, she has grown goutier and more listless every time I see her. I fear Her Majesty’s days are numbered.”

  A stone sank to the pit of Mairi’s stomach. The country had been at relative peace during Anne’s reign because she was a descendant of the Stuart line. Her father spoke of the succession endlessly—out of both sides of his mouth. At times he would side with Seaforth and assert that James, Anne’s exiled brother and rightful king, should ascend the throne. But when in the company of Protestants, he spoke like a Campbell, supporting the queen’s fear of popery. When the time came, the only thing Mairi knew was that her father would be on whichever side he thought would win. And his decision might very well split Clan MacKenzie down the middle. Moreover, now that there would be no alliance with the House of Seaforth, Cromartie was not as honor-bound to side with his grandnephew.

  The evening proceeded in a whirlwind. Mairi was not allowed a moment of respite while Da introduced seemingly half the men in attendance. The Earl of Buchan stood along the wall like a hawk, watching intently. The poor man obviously was desperate to find a wife, and his eagerness did nothing to endear him.

  Mairi’s new shoes made her feet ache, and by the time the tower clock struck the tenth hour, she wished the orchestra would pack up and head for home. Nonetheless, aside from a few brief intermissions, they tirelessly played on. Dancing with a crusty old viscount whose name she couldn’t recall, Mairi was forced to tap a kerchief to her nose as often as possible to prevent herself from being overcome by the exorbitant amount of cologne water the man wore.

  As the music ended, she halfheartedly curtsied. “Thank you, m’lord.”

  “Lady Mairi,” a masculine voice uttered behind her, a voice that made gooseflesh rise across her skin. A voice so deep, it resonated throughout the hollow cavity in her chest.

  Hands perspiring, Mairi gulped. Unable to allow herself to hope, she slowly turned.

  In the blink of an eye, her heart beat like the gossamer wings of a hummingbird.

  Handsome as a gallant knight, Dunn drew a finger to his lips, bidding her to remain silent.

  Covering her mouth, she nodded as a muffled, high-pitched squeal escaped her lips. “What? How?” Her fingers trembled, her breathing unsteady. If she were not seeing him with her own eyes, she never would have believed he was there.

  “I’ll tell you all later.” He bowed and offered his hand. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?” His luminous eyes bored through her like beams of light. Gracious, they were even more intense than she’d remembered.

  “You may.” As she placed her fingers in his palm, she wished she could run them around his waist and pull him into a fierce embrace. Indeed, he looked braw in a finely pleated kilt, velvet doublet, and crisp neckerchief. “Father’s missive requesting your release cannot have reached Castle Leod. In fact, I’d wager he hasn’t yet dispatched it.”

  “If I ken your da, he would do everything in his power to ensure I wasn’t released until the festivities ended.” He assumed a position for an allemande, tottering a bit. Good Lord, he looked powerful and commanding, his tartan and doublet every bit as stylish as any man’s in the hall. “I had a bit of help from Robert Grant. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if your father received word of my escape within the week.”

  “Escape? Was anyone injured?”

  “Only me.” He glanced downward. “Shot in the heel.”

  “Shot?” Mairi looked down, her stomach churning as he stepped with a pronounced limp. “And you risked traveling? You should be abed.”

  “Och, a wee graze isn’t about to turn me into an invalid. Especially not when my woman is being paraded through London whilst her father searches for her husband.”

  “You amaze me.”

  “Is that so, lass?” With a wicked grin, Dunn waggled his eyebrows and grasped Mairi’s elbow, leading her away from the dancers and toward the courtyard. “Come. I’ve much to say and we’re not safe here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Before Dunn stepped into the courtyard, he caught a glimpse of Cromartie and another overdressed peacock he recognized as the Earl of Buchan. The two men flailed their arms and gestured toward them. Clearly, the earl was smitten with Mairi. It had been written on the man’s face as they were dancing. Doubtless, Cromartie was concocting gossip to incite the crowd. And right now, the last thing Dunn needed was to run from a mob of misinformed courtiers or, worse, armed dragoons. He might be able to outrun anyone when he had two healthy feet, but with his injury, he doubted he’d be able to beat an old woman across the street.

  Grasping Her Ladyship’s elbow, he hastened to take her outside. A blast of cool wind hit his face
as he quickly searched for a place for a modicum of privacy. “Over here.”

  Mairi giggled. “In the egress? ’Tis scandalous.”

  He stopped. “Forgive me, m’lady. I wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation.”

  Shaking her head, she pulled him along. “I think it would be thrilling—have all of London talking about the earl’s daughter caught kissing a Highland chieftain in the shadows of Whitehall’s courtyard.” She pulled him into the egress and grasped both of his hands. “I’m so happy to see you, my entire body is tingling.”

  Unable to restrain himself, he tugged her into him and wrapped her in an embrace. With one deep breath all his tension shed from his shoulders. She smelled of sweet wildflowers and salvation, and he could do naught but cradle her in his arms and drink her in. “Och, mo leannan. I cannot tell you how happy I am to finally hold you in my arms. Ye feel like heaven.”

  As she raised her chin, he plied her lips with a kiss.

  “Ah, Dunn, you have made me the happiest lass in all of London.”

  He grinned with a chuckle. “Seeing your bonny face makes all the trials worthwhile.”

  “Tell me what happened at Castle Leod.”

  “Before we left Eilean Donan, I sent a missive to Robert Grant and requested his army remain on alert—that way, no one suspected me of marching the MacRae men and posing a threat. But do not worry, lass, I escaped without killing any MacKenzies. Ram and Curran slipped into the guardhouse. Gave the sentry a good ache in the head, took his keys, and opened the door to my cell.”

  “And how were you injured?”

  “Fleeing. A musket ball clipped my heel—shot the bottom of my boot clean off. But I don’t want to talk about that. Not when there’s so little time.” He tightened his embrace and buried his face in her tresses. “Dear God, I’ve missed you every moment of every day.” Heaven help him, he never wanted to let her go.

  Mairi tilted her face up to him, her delicate lips glistening in the moonlight, her eyes wide and incandescent. Dunn’s heart swelled. Holding this woman in his arms made everything worth the effort. He might be insane, but he would endure Cromartie’s gaol, he would withstand musket balls and tempests while riding in the driving rain. Whatever she needed, whatever they needed to convince all of Christendom they should spend the rest of their lives together, he would do.