The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,34
honor.” Wilcox belched. “Indeed, if you must know, the men are the king’s dragoons, highly trained members of the fiercest army in Christendom.”
That can be debated. “I see. However, I have been acquainted with Dunollie all of my life and not once have I known him to lie. Most certainly, the man is no murderer. And he is definitely not a thief. I can confidently attest to his character and will bear witness as such.”
Emma’s fingers tightened around Albert’s lead to keep her hands from shaking. Heaven give me strength.
Wilcox snorted. “All Highlanders are thieves. It is inherent in their blood.”
A bolt as hot as a branding iron shot up her spine. Perhaps the answer to her little prayer had come with fire. “Is Scotland not a part of Britain? Tell me, sir, how did you come to this ill-begotten opinion of my countrymen? I’ll have you ken we are renowned for our hospitality.”
“Hospitality? Hmm. You are speaking to a decorated veteran of the War of the Spanish Succession, not to mention my many military exploits in Ireland. I am well aware of the traitorous nature of Highland clans, and I’ll tell you I’ve found in no uncertain terms that they are exactly like the Irish. Your kin cannot even manage to get along with each other, let alone the government that upholds the laws of the kingdom.”
“So, you condemn a man without bothering to investigate?”
“Not when I have three, I repeat, three witnesses within my own ranks.”
“I see.” Unfortunate that Robert hadn’t taught her to wield a dirk, else she might show the man just how inhospitable Highlanders could be. And such a pity she hadn’t thought to teach Albert to attack on command. “I trust you will at least grant me leave to visit the prisoner.”
“You may. However…”
“Yes?”
“I expect you and your footman to leave Fort William by dawn on the morrow. None of Dunollie’s men or women are allowed within twenty miles. And I warn you, if you should return to the fort, I will have you arrested for disturbing the peace.”
Could the man be more discourteous? “I assure you I have no intention of remaining in this…this…this foul-smelling pigsty any longer than I must.” She tugged the leash. “Come, Albert.”
As the dog guided her out the door, Emma held her chin high. Though her hands shook with the intensity of her convictions, she did her best to project an air of undaunted confidence. Never in her life had she been so quick-tongued, nor could she recall a time when she’d stood her ground with such assertiveness. Perhaps she had inherited the renowned Grant backbone after all.
* * *
Ciar’s new accommodations were substantially better than the pit. At least the tiny shed they’d locked him in wasn’t damp with rats scurrying about. It even had a wood floor, though that was the only comfort. Along the back wall was one barred window. Across from it, the black door had a small barred hole about the size of his family Bible.
He’d slept in worse conditions in the mountains. He’d weathered snow, rain, sleet, hail. At least this roof didn’t leak, though he’d not turn away a bit of hay to ease the pressure on his hips should anyone care to offer it.
It had been so quiet, he jolted when a sharp rap came at the door. “You have a visitor.”
Ciar pushed to his feet. Livingstone? But Wilcox had sent a retinue to Dunollie—he’d said MacDougall men would be shot if they set foot in Fort William. It couldn’t be one of them.
His question was answered as the hinges of the door screeched open.
He blinked in disbelief. “Miss Emma?”
A nervous smile tightened at the corners of her lips as she stepped inside, leading Albert. “I came as soon as we received word.”
“Wait a moment,” said the guard. “You must leave your satchel and the dog.” When the sentinel reached for Emma’s bag, the dog growled like he intended to eat the man for breakfast.
“Come behind.” Emma held out the strap of her bag. “You may take this, but unless you want to have your hand bitten off, I suggest you leave Albert with me.”
The sentinel eyed Ciar. “Ye ought to put a muzzle on him.”
Stepping between the two, Ciar put Emma at his back. “That will not be necessary. The pup is harmless.”
The man straightened his grenadier hat. “Orders are your visitors are allowed no more than five minutes.”
“Duly noted,” Ciar said, backing Emma into the chamber.