The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,22
since Robert had made no mention of it, Ciar was certain the maid had exercised the good sense to hold her tongue. After all, the last thing Emma Grant needed was to be embroiled in the midst of a scandal.
He stopped the dog behind the lass, who was seated on a plaid with her legs tucked to the side. The firelight made her hair come alive and shimmer.
“Miss Emma,” he said softly.
She turned her ear quickly. “Dunollie?”
“Aye, and I’ve brought a friend.”
The dog licked her face and stood expectantly wagging his tail as if he were greeting an old friend.
Emma’s jaw dropped as she threw her arms around him. “Albert!”
The pup nuzzled into her with a happy yowl.
“Oh, my heavens, I’ve thought about you so much, laddie.”
Ciar placed the lead across her lap. “He’s yours.”
Emma’s jaw dropped, only to be taken advantage of by Albert’s voracious tongue. Sputtering, she coaxed the pup’s head aside. “I beg your pardon?”
“I purchased him from Sam.”
Janet gaped, looking unamused. “But—”
Robert patted her hand. “I gave my approval this afternoon.”
His wife looked none too impressed. Ciar stood between the overactive tail and Her Ladyship. “You what—?” asked Janet.
Robert gave her a wink. “Not to worry. He’ll manage the trip to Glenmoriston just fine.”
Janet dramatically swept a hand across her brow. “Lord save the rabbits.”
“If he chases them, we’ll put a lead on him. Besides, once he tires, they will no longer tempt him.” Robert prodded his sister’s shoulder. “What say you, Emma? Are you happy with the dog?”
She scrubbed her fingers through Albert’s shiny black coat. “He’s truly mine?”
“Aye, and I reckon he’s as thrilled about it as you are—mayhap more so.” Ciar lightly brushed her hand as he’d always done to let her know where he stood, though now touching her silken skin made his heart skip a damned beat. “Shall we take him for a wee stroll?”
“But the meal is about to be served,” said Janet.
“We’ll just venture down to the river and back. We shan’t be but a moment.”
Emma took his hand and rose as she clutched the lead. “Aye, we must go. Albert will adore it.”
“We’ll save you some pork should it be ready before your return,” said Robert.
Janet waggled her finger at Ciar. “Stay in sight, mind you. No ducking around hedges. Lord only knows what other beasties Emma will fall in love with.”
He gave her a salute. Now she was a married matron, he mustn’t let her get away with too much sauciness. “Yes, m’lady.”
Emma started off in the general direction. “Come, Albert, to the river.”
The dog stayed at her side, looking up at her as if he’d understood the command. Nonetheless, Ciar hastened to catch up. “Are you confident minding the lead?”
“Thus far. At home I’m so familiar with the grounds I ought to be able to take him for walks on my own.”
“You’d like that, would you not?”
“Very much.”
Albert surged ahead, straining the lead and making choking noises.
“When he does that give him a tug and say, ‘come behind.’”
Emma complied. “Come behind,” she said in a stern voice.
“Excellent way to assert yourself and take command. Have you trained a dog before?”
“We had deerhounds when I was a child. Da spoke sternly when ordering them about, and they behaved quite well. He always said a dog responds to one’s tone of voice.”
“Smart of him.” Ciar brushed the tips of his fingers across the ends of the lass’s long tresses. She’d worn them down this eve, pulled away from her face by a jeweled comb—such a simple but bonny style. “Albert walks well at heel for a pup. I wonder if he knows any other commands.”
Emma stopped and gave the lead a tug. “Sit.”
The dog immediately sat and looked up at her, wagging his tail.
She scratched him behind the ears. “Good boy.”
“How about ‘stay’?” Ciar asked.
“Albert, stay,” she said, walking out to the end of the lead, but as soon as she stopped he ran to her.
“You’ll have to work with him on that one.” Ciar moved beside them. “Are you still confident with walking him?”
“As long as the ground is smooth and there are no obstacles between here and the river.”
“’Tis smooth grassland, mowed by Lochiel’s sheep.”
“Then I’d like to walk him. It makes me feel independent.”
“I’m glad of it.”
As he eased beside her, Ciar’s jaw twitched. Independence was something he took for granted. What must things be like for her, trapped in darkness every day? She certainly coped well—better than many sighted people. And she was always