Highland Crown Page 18

  One could start a revolution with the armaments in this chamber.

  Isabella had very little familiarity with family coats of arms and no knowledge at all of clan insignia, but on every wall she saw variations of the same crest repeated over and over. On shields and battle flags, on the handles of the swords and on brooches pinned to long swaths of tartan.

  “Mackintosh?” She guessed, looking over her shoulder at Cinaed, waiting for confirmation.

  “No other.”

  Above the fireplace, in a position of honor, hung the portrait of a young man. Wearing a light grey suit with a silver star-shaped medallion on his chest, the subject was wrapped in a red cloak trimmed with white fur, and a blue sash crossed his chest. He wore the white powdered wig of the last century. The air of confidence in his features was timeless.

  She didn’t need to ask. She knew. Bonnie Prince Charlie.

  Cinaed took a battle-ax off the wall and tested its balance and weight. Watching him now, Isabella could easily imagine him dressed in a kilt, wielding a broad sword and axe beneath the war banner of his clan, striding into battle for his king.

  She pushed the image away as Cinaed replaced the weapon on the wall.

  “This room holds centuries of the clan’s history.”

  Other than Maisie and Morrigan, Isabella had no other family. At least none she had any connection with. When Thomas Murray left Scotland years ago, her father closed all the doors to his past. Many times, she tried to bring it up in discussion, hoping there would be aunts and uncles and cousins, but he offered no clue, no connections that she could seek. Isabella didn’t even know where to look, if she ever decided to search for them. And in Archibald’s family, the Drummonds were his and Morrigan’s relations only. Isabella understood that as his second wife, she held no interest in their eyes. During her marriage, she and Archibald never traveled to Perth, where his family was from, and no one ever came to Edinburgh to visit.

  She ran her fingers along the handle of a broadsword mounted on the wall. The weapon was longer than she was tall.

  Isabella tried to tell herself it didn’t matter that she had no one. She was an independent woman. She had a profession that she could put to use once she arrived in Canada, or wherever they could find a safe haven. An extended family could be both a blessing and a curse. She recalled Cinaed’s resentment about how he’d been treated by his kin.

  She lifted a smaller sword from the wall. “I’d like to learn how to use one of these.”

  “A backsword? I can teach you.”

  A welcome tingle ran along her spine as she realized he stood close behind her. Very close, she corrected, feeling the touch of his lips trailing down the sensitive skin of her neck before settling just below her ear.

  “Here? In this room?”

  Isabella’s voice sounded husky and strange, even to her own ear. She guessed neither of them was thinking any longer about training with swords. She was caught in a breathless wave of sensation as his hands slid across her waist and over the curve of her stomach.

  “This already has the makings of the fondest memory I’ll ever have of my clan.” He tasted the skin of her neck and pulled her closer.

  As her buttocks pressed against his groin, she knew he was as affected as she. Isabella felt herself melting. Her breasts ached for his touch. She’d heard women talk about lusting for a man, but she’d never experienced it. At this moment, however, the desire to have Cinaed inside her suddenly defined the word for her.

  “Shall we create a memory?”

  She couldn’t bring herself to speak, so instead she turned in his arms. Her mouth sought his, and he responded with a kiss that lit a fever within her. Like a butterfly seeking the flame, she threw herself into his warmth even as she risked the scorching heat.

  He was the tutor, and she willingly followed his every step. Cinaed’s hands squeezed her bottom, drawing her tight against him. Isabella leaned into him, crushing her breasts against his chest. His kiss was a lashing assault of lips and tongue, and she knew exactly what she wanted from him. There was no hesitation on her part. She heard herself moan deep in her throat, and her arms slipped around his neck. Their mouths melded into one.

  A man’s voice in the hallway startled her, and she pushed away. Detaching herself, Isabella backed away until she collided with a large table covered with swords and daggers.

  “Find Captain Mackintosh,” the voice called out. “Go and find him now.”

  Isabella moved around the table as she straightened her dress and tucked in loose tendrils of hair that had escaped their confines. Her lips were numb. Her fingers trembled and searched for a place to come to rest.

  “We could be making love there on that bench, and anyone coming into this room would apologize and leave us. We are married, don’t forget.”

  She glanced at the bench, envisioning the two of them together right now. She needed more than a table between herself and Cinaed. She had no willpower against this man’s charms.

  “What do you say, Isabella?”

  How she wished she were brave enough to succumb to a temptation like that at least once in her life.

  “We can say we’re married to fool other people, but we’re not,” she asserted, daring herself to look his way.

  “Of course, we are. We’re in Scotland. We need no clergyman to be married.”

  He saw every temptation and every hesitation in her face. He was the first man who’d ever really looked at her. The only man who’d ever truly seen her.

  “A couple is legally married here if the two declare themselves to be married in front of others.” His voice was a caress of temptation. “We have more than a dozen witnesses, in this house alone, who will swear to our marriage.”

  He was no longer teasing. She could see it in his expression, in his eyes. It was thrilling and yet terrifying. Isabella thought of how briefly she’d known him, and of the turbulent and unknown road that lay ahead. She also thought of her first marriage. Archibald had been a familiar face in her father’s circle of scholars and friends. She’d known him and worked with him. They’d developed a comfortable and cordial rapport months before her father’s death. Afterward, Archibald’s proposal had been a reasonable solution to her troubles. In accepting it, she’d thought her future was secure. She’d been wrong.

  Marriage was no longer the only answer for her. She needed to find her own path, her own future. The desire she felt for Cinaed, the way she’d come to care for him, had nothing to do with his offer of protection. A husband’s role was to cherish and protect. She didn’t want to burden him with her life. She wished they could come together, free of their troubles … as a man and a woman.

  “I suppose I should have gotten down on my knee and proposed properly, since that is the gentlemanly thing to do where you come from.”

  “Please, let’s not talk about this now.” Isabella tore her gaze from him and glanced toward the door. She could hear voices approaching again. “You said there was a change in the dinner arrangements.”

  A knock stopped Cinaed from answering. His expression told her they were not done with the discussion of marriage. He went to the door and opened it.

  One of Searc’s men stood outside. “They’re ready for you, Captain.”

  “Tell your master we’ll be there soon.”

  He closed the door. The playfulness of a few moments ago was gone from his face.

  “Searc’s plan for a small dinner tonight has grown.” He extended his hand to her. She joined him. “We’ll be dining with at least two dozen guests beyond those that we were told about.”

  Isabella trusted Cinaed with her life, but she still needed to know. “Anyone I should worry about? Do you foresee any unpleasant surprises?”

  “No British officers, I can tell you that. And no fat aristocrats getting richer through their support of Crown interests. This much Searc assured me when he explained the change of plans.”

  Isabella almost asked who was left, but she reminded h
erself the main reason for this dinner was to facilitate Cinaed’s purchase of a ship. They went out together.

  When they reached the drawing room, she held him back for a moment. “Do you know the reason for the last-minute changes?”

  “Investors. Searc thinks my endeavor will do a great deal better and grow substantially if its funded by a few of the wealthier reform sympathizers and clan chiefs pooling their money.”

  Isabella couldn’t quiet the apprehensiveness stirring deep in her stomach. She’d thought that Archibald’s belief in nonviolent protest to produce change for the better was dangerous to their way of life. And here she was, walking beside a man who helped arm men and women who were ready to fight to the death for those same ideals. She discreetly brushed away a bead of sweat from her temple as one of the footmen ushered them in.

  They paused just inside the drawing room, which was grander and far more modern than she would have expected from Searc Mackintosh.

  Some guests were smartly dressed in the latest fashions one might see in Edinburgh, others in their best Sunday clothes, but more gentlemen than she would have expected were dressed in kilts of multicolored tartan cloth with wide leather belts across their jackets, fur pouches at their waists, and jeweled daggers at their sides.

  She had no time to take in the rest of the chamber, however. At that instant, every guest’s gaze swung toward them and a rapt silence swept over the crowd.

  Suddenly, those who were sitting scrambled to their feet. Glasses and silver clinked as people freed themselves of any encumbrances. Across the room, men and women straightened their fine clothes and moved to gain a better vantage point. Whispers and murmurs arose on every side. All eyes were upon Cinaed.

  Stunned, Isabella had to stop herself from taking a step back. Lord Byron himself wouldn’t have been given a more highly charged reception.

  As the butler announced them, Searc barreled across the room to greet them.

  Immediately, people began to approach, and the introductions began. A queue began to form, and Isabella stepped away from the center. They had come to meet Cinaed, and their enthusiasm was met with his own genuine charm and confidence.

  As the guests came forward, she heard the names of clans and families—Fraser, Innes, Chisolm, Munro, Grant, Macpherson, Mackintosh. Isabella could not help but feel the pride of belonging that these Highlanders carried.

  Isabella drifted farther away, allowing those attending better access to Cinaed. Searc looked like a man officiating at some high church function, holding some back and presenting others with rigid formality of rank. Toward the end of the line, Mr. Carmichael nodded to her as he approached with men who she surmised, from their clothing, must represent the weavers.

  The excitement was palpable. It was as if Cinaed were a foreign potentate, rather than a ship’s captain, home from abroad. When the weavers finally reached him, they were more than deferential. Their nervousness was so pronounced they barely looked up.

  As he thanked Mr. Carmichael for his help in caring for him, Cinaed looked over his shoulder, searching for Isabella. Excusing himself, he strode over, linked her arm in his, and led her forward. Immediately, a second hush fell over the crowd.

  “I’ve proved to be a neglectful newlywed husband this evening.” He caressed her hand. “I’d like to present my wife, Mrs. Mackintosh.”

  No one in the drawing room moved or spoke. Every eye was fixed on the ring adorning her finger.

  CHAPTER 18

  Where shall he find, in foreign land,

  So lone a lake, so sweet a strand!—

  There is no breeze upon the fern,

  No ripple on the lake,

  Upon her eyry nods the erne,

  The deer has sought the brake;

  The small birds will not sing aloud,

  The springing trout lies still,

  So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud,

  That swathes, as with a purple shroud …

  —Sir Walter Scott, “Lady of the Lake,” Canto VI, stanza 15

  When the Highland Crown hit the reefs in Duff Head, Cinaed was certain his luck had run out. But tonight, his good fortune had seen new heights.

  One ship was not the topic of conversation, but three. At least. Plans were for long-term commitments on the part of the investors. Toasts of Slàinte mhath … Slàinte mhòr, a tribute to the resistance of the old Jacobite cause, rang out over and over. The conversations Cinaed participated in always turned to some vision of a new and independent Scotland, at dinner and afterward.

  For years, home had been either Halifax or the Highland Crown. When it came to a clan or a homeland, Cinaed had wanted to believe his allegiance was owed only to himself. But tonight was a reminder that no matter how far he’d gone, or how long he’d been away, invisible ties still bound his heart to this land. Talking to these people, he knew he wanted to be involved with creating the changes they believed were coming. They clearly wanted him to be part of it, and he intended to do everything he could.

  When Cinaed and Isabella left, only Searc and a small group of guests remained. He entwined his fingers with hers as they worked their way through the house.

  “Thank you for being there with me,” he told her. “You were absolutely magnificent.”

  Whether she was at his side or across the room speaking to some of the spouses or to Mr. Carmichael, every time he looked at her, his chest swelled with pride. She was beautiful, intelligent, and insightful in her opinions. Isabella was a rare gem and unlike anyone he’d ever known or dreamed of knowing.

  She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “You have a bearing, a confidence that is astonishing. Most of those men were far more advanced in years than you, but they sought you out, looked for your opinion, and listened intently. It was quite impressive.”

  “My ship brings a commodity they all want.”

  She shook her head. “I’m no expert in how people think. But from what I saw and overheard in the conversations, it’s not only your cargo that interests them, but you as a person, you as a man. They’re drawn to you.”

  She may have been exaggerating the guests’ response a little, but he was glad Isabella felt this way. It was her opinion of him that mattered. He smiled and pressed a kiss on her hand as they started up the stairs into the tower.

  She enchanted him, enthralled him with her beauty, with her mind, with the passion that was quick to flare up and light the desire within him.

  The stairwell was dark, lit only by a candle at each landing. He felt her tension growing as they ascended. Her hand grew colder, and he could almost feel the blood retreating from her fingers.

  He stopped at the door to the tower chamber. Regardless of how much he wanted Isabella, he wasn’t about to take advantage of this arrangement he’d forced upon her.

  “I’ll sleep in the room downstairs where I bathed and changed earlier.”

  A shadow flitted across her fair features. He hoped it was disappointment.

  “That would be best.”

  “But before I go, I have news of your sister and stepdaughter.” Cinaed hadn’t wanted to mention it before the reception. At that time, he’d had no idea when he could go after them. Or how he was going to assist Isabella and her family in leaving Scotland. Now he knew.

  She didn’t wait for him to say any more. But, taking the candle from the wall, she pulled him inside the tower room and closed the door.

  “Jean warned me about people coming and going unnoticed. I’ve become wary that someone might be listening.” She leaned her back against the door. “Tell me. Where are they?”

  “They’re safe with the Mackintosh laird at Dalmigavie Castle.”

  “The place you came from?”

  He nodded. “My uncle arranged for the move.”

  Isabella put the candle on the table, walked to the window, and looked out into the night. She turned and went to the far side of the room. She couldn’t conceal the smile tugging at the corners of her beautiful mouth. She rubbed her
hands together and hugged her middle, trying to contain her excitement. He hadn’t seen her this eager, this happy since they’d met.

  She hurried back to him, looking like a woman who was ready to charge out and go after her family right now.

  “You said they’re safe.”

  “They’re safe,” he repeated.

  Cinaed went on to tell her about everything he’d heard from the Highlanders. About how they had found the three of them and come to their rescue on the coach road. And about John Gordon’s situation now. He didn’t bother to mention that questions about Lachlan Mackintosh’s motivation still troubled him. Or the fact that he was puzzled and yet honored by his clan members’ seeming dedication to him.

  “Can I go there and bring them back?”

  Cinaed had guessed at this response on her part. It was understandable she would immediately want to be reunited with them.

  “I wouldn’t advise it. Not yet. Lachlan has demanded, or at least has hinted, that I must travel to Dalmigavie Castle before he lets your family go.”

  He didn’t want to imagine how complicated it would be if Isabella insisted on going into the mountains on her own. Her safety would be at risk every step of the way, and he had no idea about the reception she’d receive once she arrived. Cinaed didn’t know what Lachlan wanted. But he guessed Isabella had no role in it.

  “I’ll take you there myself in a week.”

  “What happens in a week?” she asked.

  Public conversations and private ones had taken place tonight amongst the guests. One that Cinaed made sure he was privy to had been between the weavers and Searc about the impending strike. The Highlanders outside had been correct. One of the weavers mentioned that Fort George would have fewer soldiers next Monday because of a prisoner transfer. They’d decided on the day.

  “The weavers have called for all work to stop in Inverness a week from today. They plan to hold a rally.”