The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,2
Lochiel vintage.” Ciar tapped her elbow. “Would you like me to dish your plate?”
“Janet can—” Emma patted her chest. Why not let him? “Pardon me. If it would not be too much trouble, I’d be grateful, thank you.”
“One slice of lamb or two?”
“Two.”
“Brown sauce?”
“Please. And a wee bit of partridge and beans as well.”
“Your wish is my command.”
She flicked open her fan and hid her chuckle behind it. “Tell me, how are things at Dunollie?”
“I suppose they would be better if the queen saw fit to fairly tax her constituents in Scotland. Aside from that, I’m grateful to say the high demand for wool and beef is keeping clan and kin afloat.” He placed a few more items on her plate. “And how fare things with you? If I recall, the last time we met was right here when your brother wed Her Ladyship.”
“My, how quickly a year passes.” Emma cut a piece of roast and savored it. “I’m sure it comes as no surprise to hear Lady Janet has been a lovely addition to Moriston Hall. Thanks to her, I have a new lady’s maid. On top of that, I’ve given two small recitals and am becoming proficient at knitting.”
“Recitals? I did not know you were musical.”
Janet nudged Emma’s shoulder. “Until I arrived in Glenmoriston, Robert had hidden her talent from all of society. But she is astounding. And mind you, I am not exaggerating in the slightest.”
“Are you a vocalist?” Ciar asked.
Emma cut her lamb and raised the fork to her lips. “Harpist.”
“Aye?” Ciar’s voice filled with admiration. “All these years I’ve been visiting Moriston Hall, and I never knew you had such a talent. I hope you will be sharing your gift with the guests during the wedding celebrations.”
“What a wonderful idea,” Janet agreed.
Batting her hand through the air, Emma shook her head. “No, no. I’m certain Her Ladyship has quite a schedule planned for the gathering. I most certainly would not want to put a kink in her preparations.” Besides, Robert mightn’t approve when in the company of so many strangers. And all these guests might not approve of her. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid I left my harp at home.”
“Not to worry.” Janet patted her arm. “There’s a harp in Achnacarry’s music chamber. I’ll speak to Lady Lochiel at my first opportunity.”
“Oh, no, please. I do not want to be a bother.”
“Bother?” Ciar’s plate clanged with the tapping of his knife. “If you are proficient, I’m certain Her Ladyship will be delighted, as will I.”
Pushing her food around her plate, Emma bit her bottom lip. Since their parents had passed away, her brother had assumed guardianship, and he was rather protective. Most likely he’d forbid it. “I suppose if Robert agrees.”
Janet squeezed Emma’s fingers. “Leave His Lairdship to me.”
Prickly heat spread across her nape. Indeed, she could play the harp in her sleep. But what about the other guests, the ones who didn’t know her? What might they think? For years her brother had hidden Emma from all but close kin. And for good reason. It wasn’t easy for Emma to expose herself in public. Many Highland folk were superstitious. They feared the blind and thought them demons. Drawing attention to herself so far away from Clan Grant didn’t sit well. What if someone jeered? What if they didn’t like her music?
But then Ciar had mentioned that he wanted to hear her play. Had he meant what he said? Emma would gladly pluck the strings all night if he asked. On the other hand, the laird was most likely being nice. He was always incredibly kind, almost the antithesis of Robert, who was affectionate but severe. Dunollie was not only affectionate but polite, thoughtful, warm, and…
Emma sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time.
If only Dunollie might look upon her as a woman and not the sister of his friend and ally.
Perhaps if they didn’t discuss it again, Janet would forget to mention the recital to her stepmother. Besides, the feast had only just begun. With Janet on Emma’s left and Ciar on her right, she fully intended to enjoy herself, starting with the delicious fare. Through the first and second courses, she listened to the friendly banter, savoring the food and wine while trying not to laugh too boisterously at Ciar’s wit.
After a dessert of trifle served with macaroons, a Highland folk tune rose over the hum in the hall. Emma counted three fiddles, a bass violin, a drum, and a flute. Clapping, she sat taller.