Page 21 of Highland Renegade
Her sister shrugged. “I like the way the word sounds.”
“So were they?” Lorelei added. “Eejits?”
“No, and we do not need to refer to Ian—Mr. MacGregor’s—brothers in that way.” Emily went on. “Donovan Murray is older and rather aloof. The younger one, Broderick, was reserved, although he did answer questions I had about the distilling process.”
“Were they friendly, though?” Lorelei asked.
“Well…”
“That meansno,” Juliana said. “Are they like that annoying Rory?”
“Or worse, Devon?”
“Neither. Just…quiet.” Emily couldn’t quite explain the unsettled feeling she’d had, and she didn’t want to alarm her sisters. “Our arrival has been a shock. They will all need time to accept us.”
“Which is why you want us to behave properly,” Lorelei said.
“Yes.” She looked askance at Juliana who grudgingly nodded and gave them both a smile.
She hoped she was right. All they needed was time.
…
Ian rose from his chair as Emily and her sisters entered the smaller dining room that evening. He’d purposely invited them to arrive a few minutes earlier than his brothers and uncles so they would already be seated. He knew he could count on Carr and Alasdair to act like gentlemen and rise—and even Rory, for all his blustering, but Devon was another story. He’d been sullen when told they would all be eating dinner together. The last thing his uncles needed to see was one of his brothers being deliberately disrespectful.
“You have a round table in here,” Emily said, looking surprised.
Lorelei giggled. “Just like King Arthur’s.”
Juliana started to mutter something under her breath but stopped after a sharp look from Emily. Ian suspected it was a remark about no gallant knights being present. Before he could respond to Lorelei, his brothers and uncles entered the room. With small nods of acknowledgment, save for Devon, they took their places.
“Ye are nae far from the truth about the intent of the table,” Ian told Lorelei when all were seated. “This is actually our council room used, in better days, for the lairds of neighboring clans to meet twice a year.”
“Would you have a banquet and a ball?” she asked.
“A banquet. ’Twas a time for each laird—Campbell, Cameron, Buchanan, Graham, Murray, Grant—to air grievances and settle accounts, instead of declaring war on one another.”
“That sounds like a smart thing to do,” Emily said.
“Aye. Some of the clans may be rivals, and feuds do endure, but we had a greater common enemy to face.”
Juliana raised a brow. “Us?”
Rory snorted, but Ian ignored him. “The English soldiers. There’s nae a Scottish lad who doesna ken what King William did at Glencoe in 1692.”
“That was a long time ago.” Emily frowned. “Did the Campbells not direct the slaughter of the MacDonalds?”
Ian blinked. That Emily knew anything about Scottish history was interesting. Most Sassenachs didn’t bother.
“’Tis true Archibald Campbell was nae happy King James would nae restore his father’s lands, so he turned his support to King William and Queen Mary. As colonel to Argyll’s Foot Regiment, he sent the order William had signed.”
Emily glanced around at the men. “Forgive me if I stir bad memories, but were the Campbells not responsible for the MacGregors’ original plight as well?”
Again, Ian was taken by the fact that the dowager Countess of Woodhaven had obviously done some research. Looking at his brothers, he saw looks of astonishment—in varying degrees—on their faces, although Devon scowled. His uncles were studying Emily as though she were some sort of new species.
“I suppose ye could say that. Queen Mary gave John Campbell of Glenorchy the authority to pursue MacGregors with fire and sword—”
“And your clan had done nothing to deserve this?” Juliana asked.
