bother dwelling on my fascination with the aloof and dazzling overseer of this veritable utopia. That was a fixation I needed to decisively rid myself of before it could firmly take hold.
And it hadn’t yet taken hold, I assured myself.
I thought of Cecelia, alone and unprotected. James’s assignments had become increasingly dangerous, I knew. He was now involved in the smuggling of weapons, whiskey and opium. These were excursions that could—and did—prove lethal to some. My sister was resolute in her decision to wait for her husband, stubborn as she was, but how long would she have to wait, alone and unprotected? And at what cost? Would James even return at all? Had Fawkes taken out his anger on Cecelia when he’d discovered my desertion? These were questions I was determined to return to Edinburgh to find out the answers to. A part of me was troubled at every glimpse of beauty in our new surroundings, every round apple and singing bird and warm bun, knowing that my sister might be suffering. Aye, she’d insisted that I flee, and for good reason. But any pleasure I might have derived from the idyll that was Kinloch was always going to be undermined by my worry.
I was glad to see that Hamish, with his newfound fortification, seemed wholly in control of himself. As though the small yet undeniably lethal weapon he clutched in his fists had given him a reinforced confidence. He seemed to have grown a little, and in that moment I could see glimpses of the man he would one day become. I wondered if I would live long enough or live free enough to see him grow into that man.
“Would you prefer an escort?” Knox said with forced patience. I had momentarily forgotten: he was waiting for me to leave so he could question Hamish. “I could call for one of my sisters.” From his tone, it was clear that he wanted to get on with this inquisition so he could return to all the importantly, lairdly tasks that were awaiting him.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to stay?” I asked him, knowing full well what his answer would be. “I haven’t been very helpful. I could try to elaborate more on what I remember.”
“Nay,” he said brusquely.
It was that note of abruptness that saw me, mostly unintentionally, inviting a challenge. I wanted to exasperate Laird Mackenzie, oddly, and I also wanted to hear Hamish’s version of the story. I needed him to get it right. I needed us to get it right so I could return to Edinburgh as soon as possible. Thoughts of my sister made me feel restless and disobedient. “Because now that I think of it, I actually do remember a few more details of—”
“Thank you,” Knox interrupted. “I will summon you at a later time if I feel the need for more information.”
And he was holding the door open for me, even taking it so far as to gesture with a little sideways movement of his head toward the exterior corridor as though encouraging me to exit posthaste.
Slightly incensed by the curt dismissal, I fastened my pin to hold my shawl more modestly in place and I brushed my fingertips against Hamish’s shoulder in a passing gesture of encouragement. Stick to the story. Our lives—and hers—could very well depend on your persuasiveness. I love you. I’m sorry.
I wasn’t sure if the graze of my fingertips conveyed any or all of the sentiments I’d hoped, but I knew he understood.
And I made my leave. A very solid thud of the door closing behind me echoed through the stone hallway as I retreated to the out-of-doors.
CHAPTER FOUR
I HAD AN IDEA . Curiosity had overcome me.
I couldn’t stop the conversation that was taking place behind the closed doors of Knox Mackenzie’s private den. But I might be able to hear it. The windows were open, after all, and I now knew which ones they were. They were at ground level, horizontally placed rectangles that looked out to the orchard, which I just so happened to now be walking through.
I experienced a moment of conflicting urges. I
And it hadn’t yet taken hold, I assured myself.
I thought of Cecelia, alone and unprotected. James’s assignments had become increasingly dangerous, I knew. He was now involved in the smuggling of weapons, whiskey and opium. These were excursions that could—and did—prove lethal to some. My sister was resolute in her decision to wait for her husband, stubborn as she was, but how long would she have to wait, alone and unprotected? And at what cost? Would James even return at all? Had Fawkes taken out his anger on Cecelia when he’d discovered my desertion? These were questions I was determined to return to Edinburgh to find out the answers to. A part of me was troubled at every glimpse of beauty in our new surroundings, every round apple and singing bird and warm bun, knowing that my sister might be suffering. Aye, she’d insisted that I flee, and for good reason. But any pleasure I might have derived from the idyll that was Kinloch was always going to be undermined by my worry.
I was glad to see that Hamish, with his newfound fortification, seemed wholly in control of himself. As though the small yet undeniably lethal weapon he clutched in his fists had given him a reinforced confidence. He seemed to have grown a little, and in that moment I could see glimpses of the man he would one day become. I wondered if I would live long enough or live free enough to see him grow into that man.
“Would you prefer an escort?” Knox said with forced patience. I had momentarily forgotten: he was waiting for me to leave so he could question Hamish. “I could call for one of my sisters.” From his tone, it was clear that he wanted to get on with this inquisition so he could return to all the importantly, lairdly tasks that were awaiting him.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to stay?” I asked him, knowing full well what his answer would be. “I haven’t been very helpful. I could try to elaborate more on what I remember.”
“Nay,” he said brusquely.
It was that note of abruptness that saw me, mostly unintentionally, inviting a challenge. I wanted to exasperate Laird Mackenzie, oddly, and I also wanted to hear Hamish’s version of the story. I needed him to get it right. I needed us to get it right so I could return to Edinburgh as soon as possible. Thoughts of my sister made me feel restless and disobedient. “Because now that I think of it, I actually do remember a few more details of—”
“Thank you,” Knox interrupted. “I will summon you at a later time if I feel the need for more information.”
And he was holding the door open for me, even taking it so far as to gesture with a little sideways movement of his head toward the exterior corridor as though encouraging me to exit posthaste.
Slightly incensed by the curt dismissal, I fastened my pin to hold my shawl more modestly in place and I brushed my fingertips against Hamish’s shoulder in a passing gesture of encouragement. Stick to the story. Our lives—and hers—could very well depend on your persuasiveness. I love you. I’m sorry.
I wasn’t sure if the graze of my fingertips conveyed any or all of the sentiments I’d hoped, but I knew he understood.
And I made my leave. A very solid thud of the door closing behind me echoed through the stone hallway as I retreated to the out-of-doors.
CHAPTER FOUR
I HAD AN IDEA . Curiosity had overcome me.
I couldn’t stop the conversation that was taking place behind the closed doors of Knox Mackenzie’s private den. But I might be able to hear it. The windows were open, after all, and I now knew which ones they were. They were at ground level, horizontally placed rectangles that looked out to the orchard, which I just so happened to now be walking through.
I experienced a moment of conflicting urges. I
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