Page 53 of Highland Crown
“This Lowlander you’ve brought into my house. Who is she?”
He knew he’d need to explain sooner or later. The time had come. “That Lowlander is my wife.”
“Does the woman have a name? Family?”
He had no time to come up with a name other than the one she’d already chosen herself. “Isabella Murray. But she’s Mrs. Mackintosh to you.”
The sun, which had hovered just beneath the horizon for only a couple of hours during the night, was now beginning to rise high enough to brighten the chamber. Still, from this distance, Cinaed couldn’t read the look in Searc’s eyes. He didn’t like lying to the man, but he had no idea how he’d explain having a wife one trip and none the next. He figured Isabella’s future and his were murky enough. The time for explaining might never come.
“When did you marry her?”
“In Aberdeen, not a fortnight ago.”
“Why? She’s hardly a lass.”
“Because I wanted her in my life. What of it?”
“Is that all?”
“I feel deep affection for her. I have no desire to be apart from her. She’s mine now, and I’m a much better man for it.”
The words were spoken without forethought or pretext. Cinaed’s mind flashed to Isabella and the kiss they’d exchanged this morning. He was attracted to her physically, but there was so much more he wanted to know about her. Her life. What she enjoyed doing. What she dreamt of. What could he do to erase the permanentfurrow in her brow? But beyond all that, what would become of her now was even more important to him than replacing theHighland Crown.
“How long have you known her?”
Cinaed understood Searc’s distrust of strangers. They both had too much at stake. He’d put into port in Aberdeen for only a few days. Short enough for romance, but hardly long enough for marriage.
“I met her last summer when I docked in Aberdeen to have the hull scraped. I’ve made a point of calling on her the last two times I’ve stopped there since.”
“What do you know about her family?”
“Enough,” Cinaed barked. “We are not going to ferret out whether her third cousin’s husband might be distantly related to some exciseman who wouldn’t take a bribe from your partners in Aberdeen. She’s more trustworthy than you, apparently. She saved my life. She’ll not do anything to jeopardize your business dealings or bring danger into your house. Let it lie at that.”
Searc’s eyebrows pumped up and down as he stomped about and wrestled with the answers, but after a minute, he stopped abruptly at the desk.
“She’s a woman of quality?”
“She’s a woman of quality,” Cinaed repeated.
Searc nodded curtly. “I want her down with us tonight for dinner.”
This had to have something to do with Searc’s terms. Cinaed knew it’d come out sooner or later. “Why? Who are you trying to impress?”
Searc ignored the questions. “And clean up, both of you. I’ll have clothes sent up.”
“Who are your guests?” he demanded.
“The organizers from the local weavers, their wives, and some others.”
The weavers were the heart of the radical reform movement in the south, and in England. They’d been organizing for better wages and working conditions for years. To the chagrin of the manufactory owners, they controlled the workforce. But they were also the people who’d put a price on Isabella’s head. Cinaed kept his face impassive.
“I thought they kept themselves clear of your influence. ‘Unbribable’ was the word you used less than a year ago. What are they doing here?”
Searc went to the window and looked out before answering. “They’re calling for a day of strikes in Inverness. The same as they’ve done in every bloody town and city south of here.”
“What does this have to do with you?”
“They want my protection.” Searc went back to his desk. “Nearly everywhere else, when they’ve shut down the work and gone out to protest, they’ve been attacked by the British and the local authorities. They know I have my own men. They know I entertain officers here from the port and from Fort George. They don’t want it going bad here the way it has in other places.”
