Page 110 of A Rogue in Firelight
Donal began to whoop, but quickly stifled it. “Truly?”
“Which makes you a viscount’s nephew—and his heir.”
“What!” Donal gaped at him now.
“I have neither wife nor offspring as yet. I mean to secure an inheritance for you.”
“One day you will marry and have heirs of the body, surely.”
“We cannot know what the years will bring.” His future and his freedom, too, were uncertain as yet. But as soon as all was clear, he meant to marry Ellison Graham if she would have him. He thought of it constantly now and saw no other course for him. But he was pragmatic, and would to take care of any eventuality. “No matter what happens, you can be assured of an inheritance from me.”
“Uncle, I am honored.”
Ronan clapped his shoulder. “Go inside with your head high, lad. You are a young man with a certain future. You have integrity and intelligence, and you will have an education and an inheritance. And you are not bad to look at, you rascal, for you take after your mother. Listen. One day you will ask a lass for her hand. But be sure that both of you know what a privilege it is to have someone’s heart, more than anything else.”
“Aye, sir. I am grateful. We are not blood kin, I know.”
“You are like a son to me. I will honor that all my life.”
These short weeks had taught him, more than any other stretch of time had, that love mattered most—family, friends, the love of one’s life. Nothing else sufficed.
Ronan walked beside Donal toward the warmth of lights, music, chatter, and merriment—and the promise of the lass who waited for him.
The vast interiortwinkled with candlelight and lamplight sparkling over chandeliers, wine glasses, dishes, and glittered over jewels and silks. Under a high ceiling, walls were festooned with swaths of greenery and flowers. Guests clustered about, women in bright frocks, men in tartan or coats and trousers. The crowd was colorful and busy, some talking, some swaying, some already dancing to the music of fiddles and drums wafting through rooms open for the occasion.
Ellison tapped a foot, standing with Sorcha, Lady Strathniven, and Sorcha’s mother. Everywhere she looked, she saw smiles and lively exchanges. But she did not see Ronan MacGregor.
A filament of worry went through her and she hoped nothing had gone wrong. But she knew that if she could join her life to his, she might have to accept an element of danger in what he did and who he knew. He never seemed to mind it much, and she wanted to understand better the calm and confidence that fueled him, even gain some herself.
Turning as she glanced about, she caught her breath and ducked her head, but was too late to avoid Adam Corbie’s glance as he waved and saw the group of ladies.
“Miss Ellison, a moment please. I must speak with you.”
“Mr. Corbie, perhaps this is not the time.”
“I will not keep you for long. I have a message from your father. I have just been through the library—a handsome room that you will want to see. Let me show you.”
Lady Strathniven waved at them. “Ellison, if Adam has a message from Sir Hector, it must be important. We will wait here for you.”
Dread spun like a wheel inside her as she walked with Corbie, who took her elbow to guide her through the crowded room. Entering the library, a beautiful room that she could scarcely take in for her anxiousness, she turned.
“What is it?”
He sighed. “I am concerned about you and this MacGregor fellow.”
She bristled. “No need. We did what was expected of us, and he is ready to meet the king. He will represent Scotland admirably. His manners are impeccable, and he knows just what to do and say. He is very—presentable.”
He waved all that away. “He fooled us, especially you. Now he claims to be heir to a title—and a lawyer as well, which he never mentioned before. If it is true, he has kept a great deal from us—and you.”
“The important thing is that he can be introduced, and my father can sponsor him without a falsehood about his identity. What word did Papa send for me?”
“I will inform him that there is improvement in the rogue’s demeanor and appearance.” He stepped closer. “But I have a greater concern.”
She moved back. “What is that?”
“You are clearly infatuated with him, and you have had too much freedom at Strathniven, too susceptible to his influence.”
“He is more a gentleman than anyone I know, I assure you.”
