The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,15

mindless fear.”

Ciar had heard the story, and the recollection of it made his blood hot, just as it had then. “I understand they were tried for murder.”

“Tried they were, but not convicted.” Robert clapped Ciar on the back. “’Tis why I shall never allow her to perform outside of small recitals among trusted friends.”

“Wise of you. If I had a sister such as Emma, I’d want to protect her as well.” He gestured toward Lochiel. “Come, your father-in-law has invited us for a tot of whisky and a round of cards in the library.”

* * *

“Are you awake?” Emma asked softly, even though she knew from Betty’s light snores the woman was fast asleep.

Not a cock crowed, not a bird sang. The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the mantel. Emma quietly slipped out of bed, tiptoed thirteen steps to the hearth, and ran her fingertips along the clock’s hands. Gracious, it was only two in the morning and she was famished.

She’d skipped the evening meal because she’d been too nervous to eat. And then after her recital she’d been so wrapped up in answering questions, the idea of eating hadn’t crossed her mind.

Now that she’d been at Achnacarry a few days, the castle had grown somewhat more familiar. She was sure she could find her way to the kitchens without having to wake Betty.

Once Emma donned her robe and found her cane, she slipped out the door, but didn’t quite close it all the way. By leaving it ajar, she would be certain to find it on her return and not make the mistake of wandering into some unsuspecting person’s chamber and crawling into bed with them.

Heaven forbid.

After crossing through the passageway, she found the winding stairs and headed down, around and around, tapping her cane and counting. Certain she’d arrived at the main floor, she stepped out into a dank, chilly cavern. The walls were cool. Something scurried in the distance.

Emma didn’t dare imagine what creature had made the noise. Not when she had no idea how she had ended up in the cellars.

I’m certain I counted three flights. She tapped her cane on the stone floor. Or was it four?

Quickly, she retraced her steps, expecting to recognize the great hall on the floor above, but the next landing was unfamiliar as well.

Resolving to bear her hunger pains for a few more hours, she climbed two more flights of steps, quietly tapped her way down the corridor, and nudged her door. At least she thought it was her door. However this one was not ajar.

Had it closed on its own? She stood for a moment, rubbing her fingertips together. If she knocked she’d wake Betty. If she didn’t knock and this wasn’t the right door, she might end up doing as she feared and crawling into bed with a stranger.

Trying not to wake everyone in the adjacent rooms, Emma tapped lightly. “Betty?” she said barely above a whisper.

When no reply came, she cracked open the door. “Betty?”

A clock ticked—a familiar sound. Was this the right chamber? “Betty,” she said louder as she stepped inside. “I went below stairs to find something to eat but ended up in the cellars, hopelessly lost.”

Behind her, the door creaked and slammed shut. “Oh, dear.”

Emma didn’t recall the door creaking before. “Betty?” she asked apprehensively.

“There’s no Betty here,” said a deep, husky voice accompanied by rustling. “Emma, is that you?”

She froze for a moment, clutching her cane over her chest.

Dash it all, this is a disaster!

“Ciar?” she squeaked. The voice sounded like the Dunollie laird but didn’t at the same time because of a gravelly undertone she’d never noticed before.

He cleared his throat simultaneously with the sound of flint striking iron. “Aye. Are you lost?”

“I am,” she said as her eyes stung, welling with tears. “I-I’m so sorry. Please do not tell Robert. He’ll be furious!”

Good Lord, this was an atrocious state of affairs. She rapidly blinked and swiped a hand across her eyes. “What if someone sees me here?” Her heart raced. “Goodness, my brother would insist you marry me…and of course you cannot…and then he will challenge you to a duel!”

“Wheesht, lass. Not to worry, there’s no one here but me.” He stepped near and pulled her into his arms and rubbed his palm around her back. “Easy now,” he soothed. “You’ve nothing to fear, nothing at all.”

Her head spun. It felt marvelous to have Ciar’s arms surrounding her, yet it was terrifying all the same. Had anyone