Page 16 of Highland Renegade
By the time she reached the door that led into the battlements, she was feeling a bit dizzy from circling four flights. Catching her breath, she stepped outside, nearly blinded by the sunlight after the darkness of the tower.
Sunlight. The sun had clearly risen. How much time had she wasted? She’d said ten minutes. How long would Ian wait?
At least Fiona was not far away. She had walked about halfway across the front of the castle, hands lightly on a merlon, her face lifted, her eyes closed as she breathed in the fresh morning air. Emily hesitated to disturb her, but she needed those breeches.
“Good morning.”
Fiona’s eyes popped open and she turned her head, then she smiled. “Emily. Do ye enjoy sunrises, too?” She gestured. “Come and look.”
Emily did enjoy getting up early, although seeing a sunrise in London was near to impossible, but it afforded her a quiet time of day. Even though there were no social calls until near noon and Albert had never stirred until well past that time, the duties of running a household—actually, the whole estate, since her husband had rarely been fit to do so—had made her appreciate those few quiet moments shortly after dawn.
Carefully, she made her way along the ledge. Although it was wide enough for a man to pass by, the stone was slippery with dew. She stopped a few feet from Fiona to take in the sight and gasped.
The hills near the castle were blanketed in lush green, the mountains beyond steeped in the darker brown shades of dormant heather. Far to her right, she could make out a winding silver strip of river as the sun glistened on it. To her left, below the craggy top on which the castle sat, was a small village. And the expanse of fields in front of her were dotted with sheep and crofters’ huts.
“It is beautiful! I can see why you come up here.”
“Aye. And a bit of silence before I have to deal with my brothers.”
“Speaking of your brothers…or, at least, Ian… I have come to ask you to lend me a pair of breeches,” Emily said. “Ian told me my London riding habit would not be accepted well by your clan.”
“Aye, it wouldna, but I do like it.” Fiona gave her a wistful look. “I would like to go to London. Can ye tell me about it?”
“Yes, of course. Later.” Time was of the essence right now. “I would really like to change into the breeches, since Ian is waiting for me.”
Fiona frowned slightly. “He is nae waiting.”
A sense of wariness rose. “Why do you say that?”
“I saw him ride out just as the sun rose.”
“You saw…” Emily didn’t finish the sentence. The sun had just risen as she’d returned to the castle. That meant Ian hadn’t waited ten minutes. He hadn’t even planned to. As soon as she’d turned her back, he must have left through the the other side of the barn.
She quickly squelched the hurt—no, theanger—that tried to surface. She’d learned long ago neither of those emotions did her any good. Only cool, calm logic had worked when dealing with Albert.
Cool, calm logic would work with Ian MacGregor, too. He had just declared war, even if he didn’t know it.
Chapter Six
Ian could no longer put off the inevitable. He waited in the breakfast room of the newer part of the castle the next morning for Emily to put in an appearance. He had thought to check the stables first when he rose to see if she were already waiting, but then had abandoned the idea. If she were lying in wait, it would only look like he was trying to escape her company once again.
It really had not been escape, he told himself…again. Two mornings ago he’d ridden out with the grandiose notion of warning the crofters and clansmen that thevisitingcountess would be coming round. Then yesterday, thanks to Devon’s outburst in the bailey, he’d had to go to those crofters and clansmen and explain that the “visit” might be prolonged, due to some entanglement with the deed. Being a MacGregor, he was not about to surrender to the whim of an English king or his writ.
MacGregors hadn’t taken Mary, Queen of Scots kindly for bequeathing some of their lands to Campbells, and they’d taken a dim view of her son James as well. If they could defy the Scottish monarchy for centuries, they certainly didn’t have trouble ignoring the present English king. Or, at least, until it suited them otherwise. If—no,when—the Earl of Bute’s son could persuade Parliament to restore their name. Once that happened, Ian would petition George to restore the deed as well. Most of the people he’d spoken to yesterday had agreed to the pretense of not refuting the deed. For now.
The battle would come later.
Hearing footsteps—feminine ones—in the hall, he braced himself for another kind of battle.
He rose as Emily appeared in the doorway, and a breath caught in his throat. He should never have mentioned her wearing breeches. The pair that Fiona had lent her fit like a second skin and were far too tight, showing the curve of her hips and long, slender legs. As she walked past him to the sideboard, he got a glimpse of a very nicely rounded bottom. The glance turned into an ogle. Every step she took made that bottom wiggle. He flexed his hands, wanting to fill his palms with her and splay his fingers into that soft flesh while pulling her against him. He balled his fists behind him. It was a good thing she had her back to him because he probably looked like a gawking fool. He’d managed to get his idiotic lust under control when she turned, and he inwardly groaned.
He hadn’t noticed that the short-waisted riding jacket had been open when she walked in, but now he saw that it was. The shirt she wore—he recognized it as one of Fiona’s—fit her just as snugly as the breeches. The faint outline of her breasts was visible against the material. He said a silent prayer of thanks that the shirt was buttoned to the collar at least.
Evidently his sister was smaller than Emily. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. Actually, his sister was a bittallerthan Emily. Where had these clothes come from? He seemed to recall the jacket from several years ago, but why would Fiona give the Sassenach clothing that was so tight when her own would have fit?
Emily smiled at him and set the plate down across from him. “There is no need for you to stand while I get my breakfast.”
Nimble though he was, she sat down before he could get to her chair. He eyed her warily as she dug into coddled eggs and cut a slice of ham. She was acting as though nothing were wrong.
