Page 50 of Highland Crown
“This one’s kinsman is pacing about down there like a mad dog, waiting to see him,” Jean said, addressing Isabella as she came around the partition. “He says to tell ye to get presentable, mistress. He can’t wait much longer, says he.”
Isabella turned around and started braiding her hair as quickly as she could.
Cinaed swung his feet to the floor. “Tell him he’s not wanted up here. I’ll go down to him.”
Isabella turned to him for the first time since Jeanentered the chamber. “Do you think you’re well enough to go downstairs?”
“Well enough?” Cinaed arched a brow at her. She immediately blushed and looked away. “My clothes. Are any of them here?”
Isabella walked the older woman to the door. “He’ll need a shirt to go with the rest of his clothes. The housekeeper said they’d all be ready for him this morning.”
“And a manservant to help me wash and dress,” Cinaed added.
After Jean went out, Isabella pressed her back against the door.
“I’m appalled at my behavior. The way I acted. I practically attacked you. I had no right to behave—”
“Stop.” He pushed to his feet and went to her. As much as he wanted to take her in his arms, he kept his hands at his sides. “You’re a woman. I’m a man. You saved my life, and I saved yours. We have a bond between us now. We’ve weathered more danger side by side than most people experience in a lifetime. Perhaps that has something to do with how we feel about each other. And how we both have behaved.”
There was more he wanted to say, but he didn’t trust his heart not to interfere with the cool logic that was called for in this moment. It required great effort, but he walked back to the bed, picked up the bandages, and stretched out his hand to her.
“Would you kindly do the honors, Mrs. Mackintosh?”
She approached, and he sat on the bed. Her focus was exemplary, the furrow in her brow reminding him of the first time he’d opened his eyes to see her working on thewound in his chest. But her hair was delightfully disheveled from his fingers pushing into it. Her lips were swollen from their kiss. The fair skin on her cheeks and chin bore the marks of his beard. He’d be shaving that off as soon as the servant came up.
He fisted his hands on the blanket at his sides so he wouldn’t reach for her.
“What do you think Searc wants so early in the morning?” she asked.
Cinaed looked down at her fingers expertly bandaging him. “I’d guess he’s heard about the loss of theHighland Crown.”
“But that was your ship, was it not? Why should that upset him?”
“The sinking affects him as well. It was my ship, but he was the middleman for the cargo I was carrying.”
“Guns? Powder? Shot?” she asked, her eyes meeting his briefly.
He knew the British charges against Isabella. It was just as well she knew his.
“TheHighland Crowncould make the crossing to Halifax and to Philadelphia in six to eight weeks, sometimes taking up to twelve weeks to return. I try to bring a cargo of arms in twice a year, sometimes if the wind is good, three times.”
She let out an unsteady breath and focused her attention on his arm. “A dangerous business for you.”
“You say dangerous.” Cinaed lifted her chin and looked into her beautiful face. “And yet, you don’t say it’s wrong.”
A thoughtful, mirthless laugh escaped her. “Six years ago, I would have been horrified. Two years ago, I wouldhave had a slightly better understanding, but I still would have lectured you and reminded you of the pain and suffering armed conflict causes. But now?” She shook her head.
“What do you say to me now?”
She placed his hand on her shoulder, a better position to bandage. “The British pretend the Scots are equal to them in the eyes of the king. But it’s a lie. They have their armies here as occupiers of a conquered land. For fifty years, the British kings have been giving land and power to men who are more English than Scot, men who have sold their souls for profit. In the six years I’ve lived in Edinburgh, I’ve tried to be an objective observer, but sooner or later, even a blind person must see the hardship that poor and working folk are being forced to endure.”
Cinaed heard the notes of anger and shame in her voice.
“And if they speak out against the laws that make it impossible for a farmer to sell his crops at a fair price,” she continued, “or if they try to organize and protest that their wages are too low or that they are being governed and taxed and denied the ability to vote for their representatives in Parliament, they are portrayed as radical extremists and traitors, and cut down in the street or imprisoned by monsters in British uniforms, men like Lieutenant Hudson.”
“You’ve been more than an observer, I think,” he said, impressed. Hudson’s accusations had been about the husband, but Cinaed felt Isabella was a crusader for the same causes. “This is the kind of thinking that leads to change.”
“Unfortunately, it’s also the kind of thinking that gets innocent people killed.” Isabella lowered his arm from her shoulder. “But why did you get into it? This is not Edinburgh or Glasgow or Aberdeen. Certainly, there must be profit in shipping without making yourself an outlaw or an enemy of the Crown.”
