The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,54
of an effervescent yet mellow viola—similar to when you played ‘The Selkie.’”
Butterflies swarmed in her stomach, which they had been doing far too often of late. And Emma didn’t really want to sing, she wanted to enjoy something with him. “I have an idea. Do you have a chessboard?”
“I do. In my library at Dunollie. ’Tis quite nice, made of walrus ivory.”
“I’d like to see it someday, though the board will do us no good at all at the moment.” She drummed her fingers on her cup. “We ought to play a game.”
“Hmm. What kinds of games do you know?”
Emma thought back. She liked chess because she could feel the pieces and picture the board in her mind’s eye—though Robert always became overtly irritated when she knocked over his king…on purpose, of course. The mere thought brought a snigger to her lips.
She couldn’t play cards unless she had a partner, and never had any luck at dice. Oh, yes, a brilliant idea came to mind. “At Yuletide when we were trapped indoors we used to play questions and commands.”
“Is not the game played with a group of people?”
“Aye, including cousins and clan, we always had a large gathering at Christmas when Da was alive.”
“And now?”
“Not as many visitors, though I reckon that will change…” Oh, dear, she’d almost said once the bairn is born, and she’d promised Janet she’d not mention it. “Um…once Robert and Janet have children. Have you played?”
“If I have, I do not recall the rules.”
“Well, there’s a commander, and everyone else is a subject. The commander asks a question of one of the others, and if the subject refuses or cannot answer satisfactorily, the poor commoner must pay a forfeit or have his or her face smutted.”
“Smutted?” Ciar asked, laughing.
“Indeed, fouled with all manner of vile things, like mint sauce and whipped cream or even dust from the floor. Once Robert had his face blackened by charcoal.”
“And he stood for it?” Another deep laugh rumbled through the cavern. “Now that I would have liked to see.”
Oh, how Ciar’s laugh could make everything shine with happiness. “It was quite some time ago. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen, and I think he rather fancied the lass who smutted him.”
“That explains it. Your brother would only humor a woman—never a man.” Ciar shifted in his seat. “What constitutes a forfeit?”
“The subject must do something of the commander’s bidding.”
“For example…?”
“Well, there was the time Lewis Pratt had to drop to his knees, put his head under Mrs. Tweedie’s hem, and low like a cow.” She tapped a finger to her temple. “Or there was the time I had to waddle around the drawing room squawking and pretending I was a duck.”
“What a sight that must have been.” Ciar snorted as if he was holding in an urge to chuckle. “I imagine it is best for the poor subjects just to answer the commander’s question in the first place.”
“Exactly. However, it is much more fun if they do not.” Though feeling a wee bit tipsy, Emma took another sip of wine. “Shall I assume the role of commander first?”
“By all means.”
In a heartbeat, heat spread across her cheeks. There were so many questions she wanted to ask and just as many she didn’t dare. Perhaps another cup of wine would help her to relax. As she poured, she squared her shoulders and assumed a practiced air of composure. “Let us start with something simple. If you had three wishes, what would they be?”
“Hmm. Are the wishes for myself, or can they be political?”
“Yourself, of course. Bringing politics into it would turn an enjoyable game into something far too serious.”
Pacing herself, she took only the slightest of sips while she wriggled in her seat ever so anxious to hear what he had to say.
He took his time drumming his fingers. “To begin with, I’d wish to have the false charges brought against me dropped and stricken from the record.”
“A seriously important subject. However, given the circumstances it’s exactly what my first wish would be.” She leaned in, unable to help the grin stretching her lips. What would he say next? Wish to marry a princess? Wish for the sturdiest and fastest horse in the Highlands? “And the second?”
“I’d ask for health and happiness of clan and kin.”
Unamused, Emma sat back, almost teetering. “Dull but important. I suppose I’ll grant you that.”
“And lastly I’d like the harvests to be prosperous for the rest of my days.”