The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,25
thought Anne’s unfair taxation polices strangled us, we’ll be doubly strangled by George. I ken it clear to my bones.”
“The English lords in parliament have already run too many families into poverty,” said Janet.
Emma knew quite well about the unfortunate. They couldn’t make enough mittens, scarves, and gloves to keep them all warm in winter. Nonetheless, she squeezed Ciar’s hand. “But if it is nay safe for us to travel, what of you? Should you not stay here as well?”
He tugged her hand, drawing her closer. “It is kind of you to think of me, but my responsibility allays any danger.”
“Och, Dunollie can take care of himself like none other,” said Robert.
Emma’s heart hammered beneath her kirtle. Don’t go! “Promise me you will have a care.”
“I always do.” He kissed her hand, his lips warm and lingering longer than necessary. “I will miss you.”
Heaven save her, she missed him already. When would she ever see him again? What if there was a civil war? He might be injured or worse. “I want to help.”
As he released his grip, she reached out and brushed her hand over his wrist. His skin was covered with downy hair, and it was all she could do not to rub her fingers across it over and over again.
“You must take care of Albert. Teach him well. Mayhap one day he can become your companion so it will not be as frightening to leave Glenmoriston’s doors.”
“He’s already helping me.”
Ciar gently patted her wrist. “I’m nay surprised.”
“I shall order some white silk,” said Janet. “The women will make roses for those loyal to the cause to wear on their lapels.”
“Excellent idea,” said Betty.
“Aye,” Emma agreed. But her heart was breaking. If only she could do more than sit safely within Achnacarry’s walls and make silk roses. If only she could find a way to be of help to Ciar. And Robert, of course.
“Will you come see us?” she blurted, not caring if she was being forward. “A-after things have settled.”
“I hope the occasion to visit Glenmoriston comes sooner than later. After all, you promised to show me the falls, remember?”
“How could I forget?”
“We must go,” said Robert. “Whilst daylight remains.”
Emma took Albert’s lead and walked to the door with her brother and the man she wished she could marry. “Be safe, both of you.”
Robert kissed her cheek. “Take care of my wife,” he whispered in her ear. “She’s expecting a bairn come late winter.”
Emma gasped. “Truly?”
“She thinks ’tis bad luck to announce the news too soon, but I thought you ought to know.”
“Thank you. Am I the only one?”
“Aye. She has not yet told her lady’s maid.”
“Very well, I shall keep it to myself.”
“Just do not let her grow overtired.”
“Of course not.” Emma kissed Robert’s hand. “Ciar?”
“Aye?”
She pulled her kerchief from her sleeve. “Take this for luck.”
He slowly drew it from her fingers. “Thank you. I will cherish it.”
“We must be off afore my sister gives away her heart as well as her kerchief.”
Emma affected a smile, though she knew it was a sad one. Evidently, Robert had no idea she’d already given away her heart. And she feared she’d never see it again.
Chapter Eight
We are alone, are we not?” Emma asked as she carefully negotiated the library, a cane in one hand and Albert’s lead in the other.
“Indeed we are.” Janet was writing a letter, and the scratching of her quill paused. “The castle seems too quiet with the men gone.”
“I think ’tis ghostly.” Albert stopped before Emma’s cane hit the leg of a chair. She altered direction. “But since there is no one else here, I wanted to confide that Robert told me you are expecting.”
Janet said nothing for a moment. “I suppose I should not be surprised.”
“Not to worry, he swore me to secrecy. However, he felt it best if someone knew. In case…”
“I’m glad of it, I suppose.”
“Do you think we’ll be home by the time the bairn arrives?”
“Oh, heavens. I do not expect to remain at Achnacarry for more than a few sennights.”
“I hope you’re right. I miss Glenmoriston.” Though not half as much as I miss Ciar.
“Bless it, my quill broke,” said Janet. The drawer to the writing table jostled. “This is locked. Why on earth would Da lock the silly drawer?”
“Mayhap he keeps coin in there.”
“He doesn’t. Quills and ink pots only. It has been thus since the beginning of time.”
“The beginning of time?” Emma made her way toward the desk and then removed a pin from her hair. “Would