by Amy Jarecki
He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Perhaps some other time. At the moment I’ve business with your husband.”
“You men, always so serious. Trouble with the Hanoverian king?” Nettie asked as she returned to the cottage.
Ciar chuckled. “You’ve heard about that, have you?”
“Visited the mainland four days past.” Archie cupped a hand to his mouth so Nettie wouldn’t overhear. “Heard about your unfortunate turn of events.”
“I’m surprised you know.”
“Brought a few new head of sheep over from the mainland yesterday. There are redcoats everywhere.”
“Have they been here?”
“Why would they come to an island with one cottage, a few hundred sheep, and a ruined keep?”
“I have a feeling they’ll befall Kerrera soon.”
“Oh? I’m guessing you didn’t depart Fort William amicably.”
“You’d be right.” Ciar escorted the crofter to the old barn. “I need your help, friend.”
“Ye ken where my allegiance lies. If ye want me to take up my sword, I’ll stand beside ye through thick and thin. There’s nothing I’d like better than to feed those redcoats a serving of my icy dirk.”
Kicking a bit of straw, Ciar gave the man a sincere smile. “I appreciate your candor, but I’d rather not start a war with the crown at the moment. Not over a trio of murdering rats who tried to pin their crime on me.”
“They meddled with the wrong man, I’ll say.”
“I hope you’re right.” Ciar brushed the dust off an oxen yoke hanging from a pillar. “I need you to find Livingstone and tell him I must see him straightaway. Tell him to come alone and to bring ink and quill.”
“Ye aim to fight this with a pen?”
“Nay, but there’s a woman with me, and—”
The crofter’s eyes bugged wide as his mouth dropped open. “I’ll be damned. A woman has tamed the wild beast?”
“Bless it, if you would listen.” Ciar punched the yoke. He’d always been called “the beast” on account of his appearance, but he didn’t like anyone referring to Emma as anything other than a delicate flower. “She’s the reason I’m walking free at the moment, and I’ll not hear a word against her.”
Archie grinned, his teeth crooked and brown. “So, ye like her a great deal, do ye?”
“No…er…yes.” Ciar looked to the rafters. “She is a very bonny young lady. She also happens to be Grant of Glenmoriston’s sister.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“Presently he doesn’t know she is…ah…with me.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Aye, and I need to rectify that as soon as possible.”
“Are ye certain? If I ken Grant, he’s more likely to sever your balls afore he lets ye explain.”
Ciar adjusted his stance. At no time did he or any man relish being told his cods were at stake. “Hence the quill.”
“Very well. What else do ye need?”
“Weapons—dirk, sword, pistols. And we need food. Plenty of it, but I’ll fetch it from here at night. I don’t want either you or Nettie coming to the cellars. You must act as if nothing whatsoever has changed on this island in the past fifty years. Understood?”
“Aye, sir. Er…”
“Hmm?”
“When should I set sail for Dunollie?”
“Straightaway. And if anyone asks your purpose, tell them you’ve come for oats and flour.”
Chapter Fifteen
Before Ciar stepped into the tunnel, he scanned the sky above the craggy, half-ruined tower and saw not a wisp of smoke.
About halfway to the door, Albert met him, wagging his tail. “You’ve decided you like me, have you, laddie?” He scrubbed his knuckles through the dog’s fur. “Or was it the meat I gave you this morn?
“Come along. Let us find out what your mistress is up to.”
As they proceeded toward the dim light, the air grew comfortably warm. He’d tested the lignite coal but had never stayed in the cellars. Thank God it was working now.
The sound of trickling water came from within. Ciar stepped inside and abruptly stopped, his heart flying to his throat. “God’s bones,” he growled under his breath while Albert yipped and dashed across the floor.
Bare naked, Emma turned away from the washstand and stooped to pat the dog. “What is it, ye wee beasty?”
Heaven help him, she was a vision to behold. Her auburn locks tumbled about skin as silky smooth as polished marble. And she was formed like a goddess. Shapely legs. Perfectly rounded buttocks. Gloriously slender arms.
She straightened. A triangle of tight red curls drew his gaze, framed by creamy, sumptuous hips. Her waist was so small, Ciar ached to wrap his fingers around it to see if the tips would touch. As his gaze meandered upward, his mouth grew dry with the racing of his blood. There he stood, a gruff, grisly beast of a man with a twice-broken nose, staring at the most perfect breasts he’d ever seen in his life. Nay, they weren’t large, but rounded and right-sized for Emma’s form. Rose nipples stood proud, calling to him, begging to be suckled.
“Holy. Bloody. Hell.” The words tumbled from his lips before he thought.
The lass immediately snapped her arms across her chest. “Ciar? I-I-I didn’t expect you back so soon!” she squeaked, turning left then right and left again, as if she were uncertain of what to do or where to go. “I’m so sorry. I thought I’d have enough time to bathe.”
Chastising himself for his lustfulness, Ciar hastened forward. “There’s nothing to apologize for, lass.”
Her clothes were neatly piled on the bed, and Emma scooted nearer until her thigh touched the coverlet. But as she reached for her shift, it slipped to the floor. “Oh, blast,” she cursed, her face apple red.
Ciar quickly picked it up. “Here.”
She snatched the linen from his fingers and clutched it over the front of her body. “Heavens! You, you must turn away at once.”
“Of course.” He did as she asked. “Do you need help?”
“I am perfectly able to manage.” The shift whooshed, making a puff of air caress his calves. “Please, never tell anyone what you saw. Especially Robert.” She was right. Her brother would find no humor in the situation whatsoever.
“Och, I’d be the last person to utter a word to a soul.”
She drew her kirtle from the bed, the wool giving an even greater whoosh. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Please don’t be.” His words came out low and raspy. “Next time I’ll be certain to call out and announce myself before I step inside.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was breathier than usual as well. Was it her embarrassment or something else?
Ciar clenched his fists. He’d behaved like a rake, standing in the doorway and staring as if he’d never seen a naked woman before. Ballocks, he was daft. No matter what he thought or how tempting Emma might be, he was a fugitive on the run from government troops. He was in more hot water than ever before, and the poor woman had been dragged into this because of her kindness. She was more precious than all the diamonds in the world and, by God, he would treat her as such.
“I’ve sent word to Livingstone,” he said, mostly to ease the tension in the air.
“When do you expect him?”
“Today. Evening, perhaps.” Ciar glanced over his shoulder. “May I turn around now?”
“I must don my stockings first.”
“Why not allow me?”
“Because it would be indecent.”
Of course it would, you ignoramus. “Forgive me. I only thought to help.”
The rustling behind him stopped. “Oh, flay it all, these miserable things are twisted beyond reason.”
Ciar turned.
Seated on the bed, the lass had a woolen stocking partway up her calf, the seam wound around her ankle every which way, and to top it off, the toe was knotted. But the hose wasn’t what drew Ciar’s gaze. The bare flesh of her leg was akin to the call of temptation, pleading for
a caress—just one wee stoke of his fingertips across pure satin.
Blinking, he shook his head and pushed away his thoughts, lightly brushing the back of her hand. “Please. Allow me.”
“But—”
“No exceptions. You have my word I will never speak of this.” He drew the pink hose away from her grasp. “Since Betty isn’t here, I will play your lady’s maid whenever you should require it.”
“Humph.” Propping her hands behind her, she raised her foot. A fine-boned, slender foot. Even her wiggling toes were bonny. “I was flustered is all. I am fully capable of dressing myself.”
Ciar shook out the stocking and rolled it down, then slipped it over her lovely foot. “I’ll venture you rarely do.”
“Nonetheless, I’ve donned my stockings many times.”
He rolled it up her leg, his knuckle brushing skin every bit as soft as he’d imagined. Such a travesty to cover such beauty. “But not when a man was standing but four feet away whilst you were trying to rush.”
Another blush sprang to her cheeks as he reached for a pink ribbon. “Do not remind me.”
He quickly tied the garter in place and started on the second stocking. “I thought I’d take you and Albert for a stroll. There’s quite a bit to see…er…the way you see.”
She laughed out loud. “I’m certain there is. And do not assume just because I’m blind I don’t see. The world is what we make of it, and to me it’s a labyrinth of maps, a treasure trove of textures, tastes, and sounds.”
He slipped on her boots. “After spending the afternoon with you in Achnacarry’s garden, I have no doubt.”
“I’ve been blind all my life. And therefore I don’t miss it like people who can see and lose their sight. I ken I’m not the same as everyone else, but I’ve found my way.” She took his hands and slid to her feet.
“Agreed. Though I recall you were not comfortable at Achnacarry and preferred to be at home.”
“How could I forget? I thank you for being thoughtful and showing me the chamber before you left. While you were gone, Albert and I counted steps.”
Ciar remembered her calling off the number of steps at Fort William. “How did you memorize all those paces at the fort? Had you been there before?”
“Nay, after I visited you I asked the sentinel to take us around the perimeter to exercise Albert.”
“And he didn’t gripe?”
“It is all in the asking. If you are polite, people will usually be friendly in return.”
Ciar led her to the passageway. “I wouldn’t be so certain, especially when it comes to dragoons. They’re an ornery lot.”
“I shall keep that in mind the next time I pick the lock to your gaol cell.” Emma chuckled. “Come, Albert.”
* * *
As soon as they stepped out from the tunnel, Emma felt as if a heavy weight had lifted from her shoulders. A cool breeze washed over her face while a tern cried overhead. “Is the day fine?”
“Pleasant, though there’s a cloud covering.”
Ciar kept hold of her hand and led her down an incline. “Would you prefer to practice walking with Albert?”
“Why not let him run?” She smiled, hoping he wouldn’t know how much she wanted to feel Ciar’s strong fingers around hers. He made her feel so secure. Wanted. “If you don’t mind leading me about.”
“Not at all.”
“I hear the rush of the sea—it must be only paces away.”
“’Tis just down the slope. Would you like to walk on the shore?”
“Is it safe?”
“Aye, the cove is hidden, though I’ll still keep a watchful eye for ships.”
“I love the smell of the water.”
“How would you describe it?”
“Clean with an overtone of salt, and today there’s grass and a hint of coal intermixed.”
“You smell the coal?”
“A bit, aye.”
He stopped and turned. “She’s still burning clear.”
“Thank heavens.”
When they stepped from the grass onto the stones, she teetered against Ciar’s arm. “Pardon me.”
“I should have told you we were about to step onto the beach.”
“Is it not sand?”
“Not here. ’Tis covered with smooth rocks. Would you prefer to return to the grass?”
“Nay.” Once Emma steadied her footing, the going was fine, especially with a braw Highlander at her side.
When they stopped, she faced the rush of the waves, raised her arms, and took in a deep breath. Albert splashed through the water and then came and sat beside her, his tail brushing the rocks. She knew he was wet from head to toe. After all, he was a water dog.
“What do you see?” Ciar whispered behind her, his breath warm on her neck.
“I see endless possibilities, the miracle of nature surrounding us abundant with tranquility.” The wind picked up her hair. “What do you see?”
“Waves rolling capped with white foam. The craggy banks on either side that protect this wee strip of stony beach. In the distance to the right is the grand Isle of Mull, where MacLean’s Duart Castle stands. And to the left is the mainland.”
“Your lands?”
“The end of my lands is beneath our feet. Dunollie sits to the north.”
“Then…are we on the southern end of Kerrera?”
“Very good.” He took her hand and continued on. “Come see the keep.”
Albert yipped, shaking and spattering droplets of water.
Laughing, she dabbed the moisture from her cheeks. “I think he likes it here.”
“He likes to run.”
Emma didn’t much care for running at all. Doing so usually ended with pain, though she might give it a go with Ciar. “When you hold my hand I feel confident enough to run.”
She bit her lip. Had she just spoken her thoughts aloud?
Aye.
And so what if she had?
He’d just seen her naked. Moreover, she’d allowed him to help her don her stockings. To have his gentle fingers whisk over her skin made her heart soar, her breath tremble.
What had he felt when he stepped inside the vault and saw her backside? Did he feel the same as she? His voice had grown gruff. Had he wanted to kiss her again?
Though Emma had been mortified when he’d found her bathing, she’d suddenly had an overwhelming urge to kiss him.
But well-bred women didn’t ask important lairds to kiss them. Such a thing wasn’t done.
Not ever!
She gripped his hand tighter as he pulled her up a slope.
“We’re coming to a set of stairs.”
“How many?”
“Five.” He stopped. “Are you ready?”
Emma found the rail with her free hand. “Lead on, sir,” she said, though her mind was anywhere rather than the steps. She was far more interested in the coarse calluses on Ciar’s palms. Like all Highlanders, he practiced swordsmanship daily. He was a respected cattleman like her brother, which required a great deal of backbreaking work.
“Here we are.” His voice echoed as if they were between the walls of a narrow glen. “This was once the hall.”
“Was it a large hall?”
“Big enough for kin, I suppose. My ancestors oversaw the shipping trade from this post.”
“Fascinating.”
The coo of pigeons and the squawk of gulls swarmed above. “There’s no roof.”
“The ceiling and floorboards have rotted away, and now you can see up through the walls of all five stories and watch the clouds pass overhead.”
“Not much use in the rain.” Emma turned her ear. “But the pigeons like it.”
“That’s because they’re roosting in the masonry. They’ve made nests in what remains of old hearths.”
“The hearths are still intact?”
“They’re hewn of stone and mortar. They look odd, though, depressed into the walls high above our heads. Lonely, waiting in vain for someone to k
indle a fire within them.”
Shivering, Emma scooted closer to Ciar. “Do you think ghosts are here?”
“Nay.” He snorted. “If they were, they’ve been supplanted by the pigeons.”
She laughed at his humor, as she felt his nearness, felt the warmth radiating off him. Would it be too audacious if she mentioned their kiss? Could she ask him if he enjoyed it?
What if he did not? What if he didn’t even remember kissing her?
Goodness, she could be ruined merely by her thoughts. But aren’t I already ruined?
After all, she’d ridden to Fort William with a lad she barely knew. She’d broken into a government fort and freed an important prisoner. And now she was in hiding with that very man. A braw, handsome, loving Highlander.
Dunollie.
She’d been so fond of Ciar all her life. “Since I am ruined,” she blurted, “I’m happy it is with you.”
“I beg your pardon?” he asked as if she’d uttered a blasphemy.
“You cannot think for one minute Robert will be able to arrange my marriage after all I’ve done in the past two days.”
“If any man utters a word about ruination, he will face me.”
“No one need speak it. ’Tis a fact.” Emma almost smiled. What did it matter if she was ruined? She’d already known her destiny was to live out her days at Glenmoriston. In fact, this adventure was the most exciting time of her life. It might be the only exciting thing that would ever happen to her.
She tilted her face toward the sound of his voice. “I want…” Her stomach squeezed. What if he refuses?
“What do you want, lass?” he asked, his voice low, soothing, making her feel as if she could say anything to him.
Just out with it!
Her tongue tapped her upper lip as her skin tingled, especially her breasts. They felt as if they craved some forbidden desire smoldering deep inside. “Will you kiss me again?”
Chapter Sixteen
Stunned, Ciar froze for a moment. Ever since they’d been caught by Emma’s lady’s maid, it had taken a great deal of restraint not to wrap the lass in his arms and show her a real kiss—one unfettered, intentional, and utterly heart-stopping.
