The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,63
stood very still and turned her ear. “Is a storm brewing?”
The sky was unusually clear, but when Ciar looked to the cove, one of his sea galleys tacked through, manned by a crew of his men with Livingstone at the tiller.
Emma’s suggestion of a storm began a roiling in Ciar’s chest. What he wouldn’t give for a few more days of enjoyment in her company. “We have visitors.”
“Who?”
“Livingstone and a few of my men.”
The lass gripped her lead with both hands, her face stricken. “Oh.”
Ciar grasped her elbow and walked with her to the shore as the crew hopped over the side of the galley and dragged the hull onto the beach. He frowned at his man-at-arms. “I’m surprised to see you in broad daylight.”
Livingstone jumped down from the bow, keeping his boots dry. “There’s been unrest in Crieff. Wilcox has sent a regiment across the Highlands, and we’ve been fortunate to have a bit of respite at Dunollie.”
Ciar still didn’t like it. “He kens I’ll stay away with an army watching my gates, but he has spies about, mark me.”
“We took precautions. Sailed up to Mull first like the last time. No one will ken we ended up here.”
“Would you like to come inside for a cup of wine?” Emma asked. “It would be much more pleasant to chat in there away from the roar of the surf and the squawk of the seabirds.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” said Livingstone, motioning for the men to wait.
Ciar was so anxious for answers, he would have preferred to ask questions right there on the beach. But Emma was right. They’d be able to speak more freely inside.
She even placed a plate of oatcakes on the table and poured the wine. “It is ever so good to see you, Braemar,” she said, though not in her usual cheerful voice. She, too, knew his visit meant an end to their utopia.
Ciar gestured for Livingstone to take the second chair while he stood with his fists on his hips. “What news?”
The Highlander sipped and licked his lips. “The dragoon who cuffed you is named Brown. He’s a braggart and an ox of a man. He and Manfred are still posted to Fort William, but Riley has been transferred to the garrison at Dunbarton.”
“Fie.” Ciar threw up his hands and paced in a circle. “What else did my man Kelly uncover? I need something that proves their guilt beyond any doubt.”
“Och aye, Kelly did as we asked—had them in their cups at the Inverlochy alehouse. Brown was all too happy to boast about his crimes. He admitted to striking you from behind with a branch as big around as his thick arm. Moreover, he waved MacIntyre’s sgian dubh beneath Kelly’s nose—says he carries it for luck.”
Ciar slammed his fist into his palm. “I’ll show that bastard luck.”
Livingstone arched his brows and shifted his gaze to Emma, but she only smiled serenely and asked, “What of Manfred? Does he keep any of the spoils?”
“Indeed. It seems he’s fond of boasting as well—flashed MacIntyre’s pocket watch.”
“They need to pay, the lot of them.” Ciar continued to pace. “Where’s Kelly now?”
“I told him to wait at the inn in Connel.”
“Excellent. Send Archie there and have him tell Kelly to fetch MacIntyre’s son. Tommy Jr. will be able to identify his father’s effects. Have him stay at the Inverlochy alehouse, and we’ll meet him there three to four days hence.”
“Three to four?” asked Livingstone.
“Come dark, I aim to set a course for Dunbarton.”
“Are you certain?” Emma asked. “I would think the testament of two would be enough to convict the third.”
Ciar snatched his cup from the table. “I’m not taking any chances.”
* * *
Emma had already wrapped the last of the oatcakes in a cloth and filled an empty wine barrel with spring water when Ciar returned from asking Archie to find Mr. Kelly.
She brushed off her hands. “I think we ought to take plenty of food. And I found an empty cask that I filled at the spring. How long does it take to sail to Dunbarton?”
“A day with a favorable wind. Though if the weather doesn’t cooperate, it could take a week.” Ciar grasped her hands. “Nonetheless, I want you to stay here.”
Her back tensed. “Here? Without you?”
“Nay, sorry, you’ll stay with Nettie and Archie in their cottage.”
A new place? No, Emma hated new places. And she’d only met the crofters but once. “I-I hardly know them. And I’m not familiar with their cottage at all. I