The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,96
right?” he asked.
“I’m well, why?”
“Because you are squeezing my palm like you’re trying to crack a walnut with your bare flesh.”
She eased her grip. “Forgive me. I suppose I am nervous.”
“’Tis natural.” He pulled her farther inside. “This is the entry—a rather small vestibule—to the right is the library, to the left is a spiral staircase leading above stairs, and straight ahead is the great hall. Beyond it are the kitchens.”
“How many floors?”
“Five.” His lips pressed against the back of her gloved hand. “I was thinking of starting at the top of the tower and showing you our lands, but I think it would be more fitting if I asked where you would like to begin?”
Facing what suddenly struck her as an insurmountable task to learn the paces and layout of every floor, Emma bit her lip. “Lead on to the tower. I do not think I’ll memorize five floors of rooms all at once.”
He tugged her to the left. “No one expects you to do so.”
Up and up they went with Albert walking beside her, the endless winding stairs reminding her of the labyrinth at Achnacarry. At least she’d have Ciar to help her if she grew hungry in the middle of the night. “Will I be sleeping in my own chamber?”
He pulled her out through the door, the wind picking up the ribbons on her bonnet. “I’d rather assumed you’d sleep with me, unless you’d prefer—”
“Nay, nay.” She shook her head. “I had visions of being lost and ending up in the wrong chamber.”
He pulled her into his arms, plying her with a gentle kiss. “The only chamber I want you to stumble into is mine.”
Oh, how his soothing voice could put her at ease. “I like that.”
He pressed his hand into the small of her back and led her onward. “We are now atop the tower, the highest point for miles aside from the mountains to the west.”
“Is that what you like most of all?”
“The seasons change on the foothills—the heather at the end of summer, the autumn colors, the brown and skeletal tree limbs of winter, and the verdant promise of spring. I like that as far as the eye can see, these are our lands, tilled by our kin.”
“I hear cattle.”
“You’re correct. A herd of yearlings is grazing on the slopes yonder. Providing our winter isn’t too harsh, they’ll fetch a good price come next Samhain.”
He continued around the turret, urging her to face the wind. “If I had to pick my favorite, I’d say this view is the best. Right now we are looking out across the Firth of Lorn, straight at the narrows of the sound of Kerrera.”
“Kerrera? But we cannot see Gylen from here, can we?”
“You remember. Indeed, we can only see the isle’s north shore, but there is a view of the Isle of Mull and the Sound of Mull leading out to the North Sea.”
“And we just sailed through those waters.”
“Aye.”
A gust of wind blew Emma’s bonnet, and she threw up her hand to keep it in place. Goodness, the castle was so strange. Presently she didn’t know north from south or east from west. And they’d had to walk up such an inordinately steep hill to reach the keep. “I do not smell the horses.”
“That is because they are stabled down the slope.”
“But I didn’t notice them by the water, either.”
“They’re on the opposite side of the hill.”
“Is Dunollie on a peak?”
“Of sorts. It sits atop a rocky outcropping, which gives us an advantage against attack.”
“Attack?”
“Och, ’tis why no one has attempted to put the castle to fire and sword in over six hundred years. There are simply easier targets to raze.”
“Like Gylen.”
“Indeed. Mind you, it was less than seventy years ago when Cromwell laid siege to her.”
Emma rubbed her outer arms. The perils of war were never far away.
“Beg your pardon, m’laird,” said Livingstone from behind. “Roderick Chisholm has arrived with a message from the Earl of Mar.”
Emma’s stomach clenched as she moved her hand to her throat. The Jacobites were expecting Mar to raise the standard in favor of Prince James.
Please, no. Not now!
“His timing is impeccable,” Ciar grumbled.
“I told him the same.”
“Take him to my solar, and I’ll meet you there forthwith.”
“Straightaway.”
As Livingstone’s fading footsteps echoed from the stairwell, Ciar took Emma’s hand between his palms. “I’ll show you to your chamber.”
“But the tour has only begun.”
“Forgive me. I promise we’ll resume just as soon as I’ve met with Chisholm.”