Page 61 of Highland Crown
“Tell your master we’ll be there soon.”
He closed the door. The playfulness of a few moments ago was gone from his face.
“Searc’s plan for a small dinner tonight has grown.” He extended his hand to her. She joined him. “We’ll be dining with at least two dozen guests beyond those that we were told about.”
Isabella trusted Cinaed with her life, but she still needed to know. “Anyone I should worry about? Do you foresee any unpleasant surprises?”
“No British officers, I can tell you that. And no fat aristocrats getting richer through their support of Crown interests. This much Searc assured me when he explained the change of plans.”
Isabella almost asked who was left, but she remindedherself the main reason for this dinner was to facilitate Cinaed’s purchase of a ship. They went out together.
When they reached the drawing room, she held him back for a moment. “Do you know the reason for the last-minute changes?”
“Investors. Searc thinks my endeavor will do a great deal better and grow substantially if its funded by a few of the wealthier reform sympathizers and clan chiefs pooling their money.”
Isabella couldn’t quiet the apprehensiveness stirring deep in her stomach. She’d thought that Archibald’s belief in nonviolent protest to produce change for the better was dangerous to their way of life. And here she was, walking beside a man who helped arm men and women who were ready to fight to the death for those same ideals. She discreetly brushed away a bead of sweat from her temple as one of the footmen ushered them in.
They paused just inside the drawing room, which was grander and far more modern than she would have expected from Searc Mackintosh.
Some guests were smartly dressed in the latest fashions one might see in Edinburgh, others in their best Sunday clothes, but more gentlemen than she would have expected were dressed in kilts of multicolored tartan cloth with wide leather belts across their jackets, fur pouches at their waists, and jeweled daggers at their sides.
She had no time to take in the rest of the chamber, however. At that instant, every guest’s gaze swung toward them and a rapt silence swept over the crowd.
Suddenly, those who were sitting scrambled to their feet. Glasses and silver clinked as people freed themselves of any encumbrances. Across the room, men andwomen straightened their fine clothes and moved to gain a better vantage point. Whispers and murmurs arose on every side. All eyes were upon Cinaed.
Stunned, Isabella had to stop herself from taking a step back. Lord Byron himself wouldn’t have been given a more highly charged reception.
As the butler announced them, Searc barreled across the room to greet them.
Immediately, people began to approach, and the introductions began. A queue began to form, and Isabella stepped away from the center. They had come to meet Cinaed, and their enthusiasm was met with his own genuine charm and confidence.
As the guests came forward, she heard the names of clans and families—Fraser, Innes, Chisolm, Munro, Grant, Macpherson, Mackintosh. Isabella could not help but feel the pride of belonging that these Highlanders carried.
Isabella drifted farther away, allowing those attending better access to Cinaed. Searc looked like a man officiating at some high church function, holding some back and presenting others with rigid formality of rank. Toward the end of the line, Mr. Carmichael nodded to her as he approached with men who she surmised, from their clothing, must represent the weavers.
The excitement was palpable. It was as if Cinaed were a foreign potentate, rather than a ship’s captain, home from abroad. When the weavers finally reached him, they were more than deferential. Their nervousness was so pronounced they barely looked up.
As he thanked Mr. Carmichael for his help in caring for him, Cinaed looked over his shoulder, searching forIsabella. Excusing himself, he strode over, linked her arm in his, and led her forward. Immediately, a second hush fell over the crowd.
“I’ve proved to be a neglectful newlywed husband this evening.” He caressed her hand. “I’d like to present my wife, Mrs. Mackintosh.”
No one in the drawing room moved or spoke. Every eye was fixed on the ring adorning her finger.
CHAPTER18
Where shall he find, in foreign land,
So lone a lake, so sweet a strand!—
There is no breeze upon the fern,
No ripple on the lake,
Upon her eyry nods the erne,
The deer has sought the brake;
The small birds will not sing aloud,
