A Very Highland Holiday - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,64

had inflicted on him.

To find Fiona here, in this wayward place, far too close to the field where so many of his friends and family had perished was … odd. Why was she here? Fiona never did anything without a reason, and Stuart would have to pry out of her what that reason was.

The chamber was filled with sorrows indeed. Swords and pistols hung on the walls, and tables and boxes held knives, buckles, and other smaller relics. So much. A testament to the many who’d fallen.

Stuart halted just inside the door as the noise and stench of the battle suddenly poured back to him. The crack of gunfire, the acrid smell of powder, the screams of the dying, the blood-pounding rage that had kept Stuart fighting, followed by the intense grief of watching Duncan Mackenzie fall, his brothers and father swallowed by the smoke.

Gair pushed past as Stuart froze on the threshold, unable to move.

Fiona was already following the red-haired Carrie through the room, gazing at the assortment, her footfalls hushed.

Gair, who’d raided battlefields, beached ships, burned-out houses, and the like, had no qualms about examining the collection. He kept his hands behind his back much of the time, as though vowing he’d not filch anything, though Stuart noticed Fiona keeping a close eye on him.

“’Tis not here,” Padruig announced after he and Gair had scanned the room for about half an hour. Carrie remained in the corner, letting them look but making certain they didn’t nick anything.

As far as Stuart could tell, Padruig hadn’t done much searching—Gair and Fiona had picked through boxes and studied objects on the shelves.

“Plenty of knives, though.” Gair gestured at a case full of them. “Ye could find a good one. I’m sure the lass would give it to ye for a fair price.”

Padruig, more stoic than usual, shook his head. He turned his back on Gair, pressed past Stuart, and made his way through the outer chambers to the noisy taproom.

Gair shrugged and began to follow. Fiona hurried to the door to stand beside Stuart and block Gair’s path.

“Put them back,” Fiona said evenly.

Gair gave her an innocent stare. “What are you on about, lass?”

Gair was a small man, and Fiona could look him straight in the eye. “Please.” The word was firm, no pleading in it.

Gair’s cheeks stained red. He heaved a sigh, sent Stuart an aggrieved glance, and pulled three buckles, a knife, a ring, and a few coins from his pockets. As the innkeeper’s daughter watched, hands on hips, Gair returned them to the last basket he’d been sorting through.

Astonishing. Stuart hadn’t seen him pocket anything, the sly sod.

“Is that all?” Fiona asked.

Gair let out another sigh and dropped two more coins into the basket. He lifted his hands. “That is all. Sorry, lass.” He flashed Carrie a grin and slid past Stuart and out.

Stuart still couldn’t move. The sorrow in the room pressed at him like a wave of chill fog until he could barely breathe.

Fiona laid her hand on his arm. Her touch, the warm pressure of her fingers, cut through the coldness, and the air began to clear. Stuart’s feet came unstuck. He drew a long breath and stepped aside, giving Fiona room to leave the chamber.

Her hand slid from his coat, her face turned up to his, her green eyes searching. Stuart swallowed, suppressing the sharp need to enfold her in his arms and crush her to him. He remained still, which took all his strength. Fiona at last ducked around him, her expression unreadable.

Carrie remained, not offering to see them out. When Stuart glanced back, he saw her straightening the things Gair had displaced, her movements gentle.

Stuart caught up to Fiona and grasped her elbow, intending to take her aside where they could speak alone, but a maid hurried to her and said, “Chamber’s ready, milady.”

Of course, Fiona would want to trade the smoky and crowded outer room for privacy and relative comfort. She thanked the maid and started to follow her.

“Fio—” Stuart stopped himself as the maid gave him and then Fiona a curious stare. “Miss Macdonald.”

“Thank you for your assistance, sir,” Fiona said, maintaining her serenity. “Good night.”

Damn and blast. Stuart could only bow like a good servant. He watched as she disappeared into one of the large chambers they’d just walked past to reach the collection. Una, with a severe scowl, shut the door.

Stuart glared at the blank wood for a few moments then gave up and returned to the taproom,