Page 43 of Highland Crown
“How did you gain that knowledge?”
“I am four and thirty.” That was the truth. She forced herself to think. “And prior to marrying Cinaed this spring, I’d never been married.” That was a lie. She paused. “I’ve had many years of watching and learning and practicing.”
“And where did you do all this watching and learning and practicing?”
Isabella took a deep breath. “Are you a spy for Searc, Mr. Carmichael?”
“Thankfully for your sake, I am not.” He dropped the last of his instruments into the bag.
Isabella waited, not sure what he was after. The truth, of course, but she wasn’t willing to make him a confidante simply because she admired his surgical skills.
He closed his bag. “I’ve worked at this long enough to recognize expertise and education. And I’d say you have both, mistress. But I’ve also had enough experience dealing with people to know when someone is lying.”
Her chin rose. Isabella was ready to defend herself, but he held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture.
“I don’t fault you for it. This is not a house to expose one’s secrets.”
She’d known that much from Cinaed’s warning.
The surgeon picked up his bag and walked toward the door but paused before opening it.
“So, I’ll share this with you. Most Mondays, Searc entertains the British commander in charge of the port, as well as his staff. On Tuesdays, the government exciseman is invited to dine. Wednesdays are generally dedicated to entertaining politicians. And every second or third Thursday, Searc hosts a squire from the foothills who coordinates the whiskey smuggling in the region. Shall I continue or is that enough to get a taste of the household?”
No wonder Searc was suspicious of Isabella. “He deals with friends and enemies alike.”
“He has no friends. He has business partners.”
“But he does business with British officers.”
“So long as there is a profit to be made.”
She understood clearly now why Cinaed insisted Searc think they were married.
“Thank you.” She nodded. “Will you be coming back tomorrow to check on my husband?”
“I may stop by,” he said. “But I know he’s receiving excellent care by someone far more qualified than me.”
Isabella was grateful for the man’s confidence and she told him.
“Before I go,” Carmichael said with his hand on the latch. “Don’t trust the days of the week as I recited them. And know this: Real danger lurks inside this house, and it doesn’t only come by way of Searc’s dinner guests.”
CHAPTER13
She look’d down to blush,
and she look’d up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips,
and a tear in her eye.
—Sir Walter Scott, “Lochinvar,” Canto V
As he awakened, the first place he looked was at the bed of blankets on the floor. She wasn’t there. Immediately worried, Cinaed half rose, ready to push himself out of the bed. Then he spotted her at the window.
The perpetual glow of the summer night spread its gentle light around her, crowning her head and the long hair cascading over her shoulders with a halo. Her forehead pressed against the glass, and her attention was fixed on the street below.
He relaxed and lay back. The fever had broken, and he no longer burned. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulder. It was stiff, but the pain in his chest was manageable. He flexed his arm, and hell fire shot into the muscles of his upper arm. Still, he could move it. Appreciate every blessing, he told himself. Clean bandages covered whatever damage had been done.
