The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,92

two adventures in my lifetime.”

“I believe the bounds on such things are without limits.” He took her hand as the footman opened the door. “Let the rest of our lives be an endless adventure.”

Chapter Thirty

Woooooooah!” Emma cried as she clung to the ropes of a gamming chair. She’d been on a swing before, but this one made her stomach fly to her throat as the crew winched her aboard Ciar’s ship, the Flying Ceilidh.

Up, up she went while the sea slapped against the hull of the boat.

“You’re doing well,” Ciar called from the skiff below, which had ferried them out to where the ship moored.

“Swing the boom!” Livingstone hollered.

As the timbers creaked, Emma’s trajectory suddenly shifted sideways. “There you are, my lady,” said Ciar’s man-at-arms, right before the chair abruptly stopped swinging.

Emma didn’t realize he was talking to her until he took her hand. Goodness, she was now a real lady. “My heavens, that took my breath away.”

“’Tis quite a ride, even for a seasoned sailor.” He helped her down. “Give us a moment to send the winch down to Dunollie, and then we’ll introduce you to the crew.”

She smiled, turning her ear. Though the men on the deck were quiet, she felt their presence and their eyes upon her. A wave of trepidation washed over her as she wondered if they knew—or if they would fear her.

But then Albert’s toenails tapped the deck. He barked, brushing her skirts and smacking her thigh with his tail.

She couldn’t resist giving his head a pat. “Och, laddie, we’re off on a new adventure.”

The winch creaked and groaned much more loudly than it had with her. She turned, praying the ropes wouldn’t snap and send her husband plummeting to the sea. But with a whoosh of air, Ciar hopped to the deck with a resounding bang.

“How did you weather the gamming chair, my love?” he asked.

“It was exhilarating, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

“’Tis quite a height.”

“Then it is a good thing I cannot look down.”

He chuckled and turned her shoulders, whispering into her ear. “The men have assembled to greet you.”

“All bow,” bellowed Livingstone. “Welcome His Lairdship’s bride, Lady Dunollie!”

Emma clasped her hands and curtsied while those two words resounded in her ears. Lady Dunollie. Oh, how she loved them. “Thank you for your warm welcome.”

Ciar grasped her elbow and walked her down the line of men, each one taking her hand and kissing it as he was introduced.

“And finally Cook—who prepares our meals both at sea and at the castle,” said Ciar.

Emma gaped. “Truly? Who tends the hob when you’re away from Dunollie?”

“Och, m’lady, this is a special occasion. Now that you are here, my orders are to be at your beck and call at all times.”

“I will look forward to discussing menus with you.”

“As will I.” Cook kissed her hand. “And you’ll find a meal fit for a king prepared and ready for you in His Lairdship’s cabin.”

“Our cabin,” Ciar corrected.

“Would you like me to look after Albert until I’m needed, Your Ladyship?” asked Betty.

“Please,” Ciar answered on Emma’s behalf. “And you may have the evening off to enjoy the brisk Scottish air as we cruise down the eastern coast of our glorious isle.”

“Thank you, m’laird.”

Somehow, Emma didn’t think Betty would have trouble occupying her time. Not among an entire crew of Dunollie men.

Ciar placed his hand in the small of her back. “Since dinner is served, allow me to show you aft.”

“I’m famished,” she whispered.

“So am I.”

“Did you miss breaking your fast?”

“Aye—too nervous to eat.”

“You?”

“I admit to being a wee bit anxious as well. ’Tis not every day a man marries.”

He opened a door, and when she stepped inside, everything went quiet. There was no wind at her face, no rush from the sea. “’Tis so peaceful in here.”

“We’ll be underway soon and, God willing, the weather will be fair.” Behind her, he slid his hands to her waist, pressing warm, succulent lips to her neck. “Then the Flying Ceilidh will rock ye like a bairn.”

Emma turned, dancing a bit. “I think I’d rather be rocked by you, husband.”

“Mm, I adore your vigor. Ye must ken I went to heaven when we said, ‘I do.’” He took her hand and twirled her deeper into the cabin. “But first we need sustenance.”

Emma breathed in the musky scent of roast lamb. “It smells delicious.”

“I’m certain it will be.” He helped her sit in a wooden chair with a padded seat and back—far more elegant than she would have expected. “I asked