Page 116 of A Rogue in Firelight
“It came to me and was decided. The previous tenants are gone,” he said tactfully. “A new tenant already offered to rent it for a generous sum. Rental fees are exorbitant in Edinburgh this summer, which is fortunate for you! Mr. Cameron has the papers.”
“Thank you! It is a lovely house and I hope the new tenants will be happy there.”
“It is a very desirable location,” Lady Strathniven said, having joined them.
Silent, Ronan only smiled, hoping for a chance to step away before Beaton remembered more.
“Oh, there is the Duke of Gordon,” Beaton said. “I must speak with him about the procession planned in the city. We are both on Scott’s Celtic committee. Scott is a grand fellow,” he confided, “but his precious project, representing what he calls Celtified Scotland, has required a great deal of effort. Please excuse me.” He departed the group.
“Ellison, it is good to know the problem with the house is solved. And a paying tenant as well, excellent! You must stay with me if you ever tire of your dear Papa. And Darrach,” she added, startling him. “You saved Sir Evan! I had no idea!”
“A testament to Darrach’s humility, for none of us knew.” Ellison looked up at him, her eyes limpid gray, searching. Someday he would tell her all of it and more. Suddenly it occurred to him, standing with Lady Strathniven, Sorcha, and his lady love, that he owed all of them affection and gratitude for helping him these last weeks.
“I am glad you three found out,” he murmured, his gaze touching Ellison’s. “But keep it to yourselves, aye?”
“Darrach does like his secrets,” Ellison said with a light laugh.
Much later, Ellisonstood outside watching the line of carriages crawl past Duncraig’s entrance and down the drive to the main road. Drawing her paisley shawl closer in the light chill of the late summer evening, she looked around for Sorcha or Lady Strathniven among the clusters of guests chatting as they waited. Stifling a yawn, she realized how very weary she was, almost swaying on her feet. All she could think of was getting home to Strathniven, to her bed and pillows and dreams.
And to the last chance to see Ronan there before they all left for Edinburgh and the commotion—and risks—of the king’s visit.
Earlier, Ronan had reminded her that he and Donal had ridden to Duncraig and would head out on horseback to return to Strathniven. When he asked if she wanted him to follow as she rode in a carriage with the other women, she shook her head.
“We will only slow you down,” she said. “Lady Strathniven planned to ask her sister to lend a carriage, since Mr. Corbie left in our barouche. I regret giving him the idea, as there is a great scramble for carriages this evening.”
“Better that you do not ride back with him. But if you wish to wait for Lady Strathniven and Sorcha, I will go back with Donal and see you at the house.” He had briefly touched her shoulder before leaving. She had felt his caring and her own rush of desire. But it did not matter if they were seen. She did not care what the rumors were.
Hearing Sorcha, she turned. “Mama wants us to stay the night,” she said. “So far all the carriages are in use, and she would like us to stay and leave tomorrow. I am to ask what you prefer.”
“I would rather ride back to Strathniven if a vehicle is available. I so want to be home after such an exhausting—and lovely—night. But I have found no carriage yet. And Lord Darrach already left with Donal on horseback. I may have to stay.”
“Wait here, and I will see what can be done.” Sorcha hurried away.
Gathering her shawl around her, Ellison stood watching, glancing up at the stars, delicate against the indigo sky. Hearing a step as someone approached, she turned.
“Miss Graham.” Neill Pitlinnie stood behind her. “I overheard your conversation. Mr. Corbie has taken your carriage? I wonder if I could offer mine.”
Startled, she shook her head. “I will stay if I can find no other way back.”
“You would not be riding with me,” he said. “I am happy to loan you my barouche, which is not being used. I mean to ride back, as I brought a horse here as well, as friends needed transportation. I—owe you an apology, Miss Graham.”
That surprised her. “You owe me nothing, sir.” She looked about for Sorcha.
“I realize that I shared news that was not mine to tell. Accept my congratulations and my apologies. Let me direct my driver to take you home.”
She had not expected that, but perhaps he had a moment of conscience. Ronan would not be happy about it, but she was so very tired, and could explain later. “A kind offer,” she said.
“Here is my driver now. Go on. I will tell Lady Strathniven your plans.”
The carriage pulled up, a sleek black barouche with seats of cushioned red velvet. She relented, seeing that temptation. She wanted to meet Ronan at Strathniven. If Lady Strathniven and Sorcha stayed here, and Corbie had gone on to Edinburgh, or at least the inn at Kinross as he had threatened, she would be alone with Ronan. It could be their last night together before returning to the city and the unknown.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, smiling up at the bearded driver.
“To Strathniven, and hurry, for the lady is weary,” Pitlinnie told the man. He opened the door. “Miss Graham, I hope you will forgive me. Enjoy your journey.”
“I am grateful, sir.” She mounted the lowered step, accepting the support of his hand, sitting and sat as he shut the door and tapped the carriage roof.
Sinking onto the cushioned bench, she leaned back as the carriage lumbered away to join the long line of vehicles rolling down the road. Seeing a plaid folded on the seat, she drew it over lap and sighed, lulled by the swaying motion and the darkness.
