Page 52 of Highland Renegade
“Good. Then it’s settled.” Emily looked at the gown she’d intended to wear. She didn’t have time to change into it lest Fiona come up with yet another excuse for her to stay in her chamber. The wrapper she wore around her night rail would have to do. No one, except a few servants, was in the castle at this time of day anyway. She marched to the door. “Are you coming with me?”
Fiona actually looked distressed, and momentary guilt swept over Emily. She didn’t mean to cause the girl discomfort. Ian had no doubt left orders for his sister, and she suspected Fiona didn’t want to face his wrath at beingdisobeyed—men!—but she needed to get out, if only to the library. “If Ian is upset, he needs to be upset with me, not you.”
She nodded reluctantly and pointed to the gown on the bed. “Do ye want to change first?”
Emily shook her head. “This will be fine.”
“Then let me make sure nae one is about.”
“I will be fine.” Emily opened the door and stepped out in the hallway. To her surprise, Hamish was standing only a few feet away. He glanced over her shoulder at Fiona and some unspoken message must have taken place for he nodded briskly before he turned to walk away.
Emily gazed after him. Why was the castellan standing outside her door? Was he eavesdropping? Or…had he been told to guard her door? But why?
…
“I thought I told ye to keep the countess occupied.” Ian tried to keep the ire out of his voice as he looked at Fiona, seated across the desk from him in the library late that evening. Hamish had told him about the afternoon excursion.
“I tried!” She didn’t bother to hide the annoyance in her own voice. “Emily is feeling better and she doesna want to be stuck in a room. I doona blame her.”
“The cook has instructions to send a tray up with Effie.” After her tearful response to his questioning, Maggie had suggested she be personally responsible for keeping an eye on whatever was served to Emily. The maid had been only too happy to prove herself. “Did that, at least, get done?”
“Aye, but Emily was nae happy about that, either.”
He supposed she wasn’t. He hated feeling confined, too, so he understood her agitation, but until he had a chance to do some more investigating, Emily was safer in her room.
“She asked me today if ye were keeping her a prisoner.” Fiona gave him an accusatory look. “Mayhap ye should tell her the truth.”
“I doona ken what the truth is. Yet,” he added.
“That ye think someone loosened that board on the steps on purpose.” Fiona glared at him. “That it was nae accident. Ye said so yerself.”
He probably should nae have told his sister that, but he hadn’t known any other way to convince her how important it was to keep an eye on Emily. Or, rather, on anyone who came near her.
“And ye ken why I told ye.”
That seemed to mollify her somewhat. “Aye. And I will protect her.” Fiona patted her boot. “I’ve got mysgian dubhright here.”
“Hopefully, ye will nae have to use it.”
“Still.” Fiona frowned. “Do ye nae think Emily should ken she is in danger?”
“I doona want to alarm her,” Ian replied, “nor do I want her being suspicious of our brothers.”
“Ye mean Devon.”
Ian winced slightly. He didn’t want to think his brother was responsible for inflicting harm and danger on Emily, regardless of his anger at the English in general. He’d insisted he’d nothing to do with using the passageway to her room. And, in spite of his surliness, Ian had never known Devon to lie to him.
“’Tis nae fair to accuse him without proof,” Ian said.
“True.” Fiona studied him. “Is that why ye have nae told our other brothers about the stairs?”
“Partly.” While they knew someone had put whisky in the tea, because Emily fell asleep, they had already left for the fields when the fall from the stairs had happened. Devon didn’t need his brothers thinking he was guilty. Besides, they were all needed for the barley harvest. “I doona want a lot of questions being asked right now. I doona want to give the true culprit any reason to think we suspect the fall was anything more than an accident.”
“That makes sense, I suppose.”
“There was enough talk about the whisky,” Ian said. “’Tis better that just ye and Hamish ken about the stairs for now.”
“Why did ye even tell Hamish then? I told ye I would protect Emily.” She patted her boot again. “He is nae as skilled with a blade as I am.”
