Her Highland Protector

‘What makes you think these men are out there?’ Peter asked, once the carriage was on the road to town.

‘I saw smoke from a campfire. It might have been nothing. A traveller. But the men I encountered a day or so ago were a dangerous lot.’

‘No honest Scot would spend the night in the open with the hospitality of the castle so close. It wouldn’t make sense.’

‘My thoughts exactly. To make matters worse, the men were Sassenachs. Lady Jenna is not to take her horse out without my permission until we either have them under lock and key, or they have left the area.’ At Peter’s quizzical expression, he grinned. ‘And it is me who will decide if they are gone.’

‘I’ll tell my men.’

Niall narrowed his eyes against the sun’s glare and scanned the trees on the hillside.

Peter followed the direction of his gaze. ‘Is the smoke still there?’

Niall shook his head. The faint blue haze he had noticed rising into the sky was no longer visible. But the sun was higher now and a light breeze had picked up. ‘I plan to report them to the local militia. There is a company in town, is there not?’

‘Aye. Under the command of a Lieutenant Dunstan.’

Niall groaned. Lieutenant Dunstan wasn’t exactly a friend to the Gilvrys, although Niall had no reason to doubt that he would do his job and do it well. ‘He is in charge?’

‘Aye. Watching the coast for smugglers.’

‘He is looking the wrong way, then.’ Almost all the illicit whisky went overland.

Peter chuckled. ‘Thank God.’

It took barely a half hour to reach the outskirts of town and Niall acknowledged to himself that he was glad to arrive at the first of the stone cottages lining the road without incident. Perhaps he was being overcautious. They passed the White Rose Inn and, with the addition of two small buds on its stem barely discernible, Niall knew the picture on its sign for what it was—a Jacobite’s nod of allegiance to the King across the water, and nothing to do with the white rose of the House of York.

‘You’ll find Lieutenant Dunstan there,’ Peter said. ‘He’s been trying to recruit some of the local lads.’

‘Has he had any success?’

‘One or two have taken the King’s shilling.

They’ll pass on his troop’s movements to family members engaged in the trade.’

‘You would think the Sassenachs would have figured it out by now.’

Peter grinned and pulled up in front of a small bow-windowed shop in the centre of town. ‘The seamstress. I’ll drop you here and continue on to the livery.’

Niall jumped down.

Peter waved his whip in acknowledgement and Niall could not help noticing how his friend’s gaze sought out Mary as she stepped down and turned to help her mistress. Oh, yes, the poor sod had it bad. Niall promised himself he would try to help his cause with McDougall.

Lady Jenna swept by him regally with a small incline of her head. He hoped that meant they had achieved a truce. He followed the two women into the shop.

A woman of about fifty, modestly gowned and with a cap over her greying brown hair, hurried to greet them. ‘Your ladyship!’

Was it his imagination, or did the woman sound surprised? He looked at the Lady Jenna, who was stripping off her gloves. ‘I’m here about the riding habit we spoke of last time.’

The woman’s face wreathed in smiles. ‘But of course. Please. Take a seat while I prepare the dressing room.’ She glanced doubtfully at Niall. ‘Can I offer you refreshment, sir? Tea? Whisky?’

Hell, did she think he was some sort of cicisbeo? ‘I’ll no be staying. Her ladyship’s maid will keep her company.’ He looked at Jenna. ‘How long do you think this will take?’

‘No more than an hour, I shouldn’t think.’

The seamstress nodded a confirmation.

‘I will be coming back before the hour is up, then.’

‘And where will you be going, Mr Gilvry?’ Lady Jenna asked with deceptive sweetness.

‘To the White Rose.’

‘I should have guessed.’

‘Yes, you should.’ He bowed. ‘In one hour, Lady Jenna. Do not leave here without me.’

‘I will be waiting. Please do not imbibe so much that you lose track of the time.’

A jibe at his earlier tardiness, no doubt. His ire rose. He forced himself to ignore the slur on his character and departed before he said something he would regret.

‘What a handsome young gentleman he is, to be sure,’ the seamstress said to Lady Jenna, taking her coat and hat.

If you liked arrogant men who ordered everything to suit them. Jenna sniffed.

The seamstress gestured for them to sit down. ‘Give me a moment to prepare. My last customer left only a few moments ago and I wasn’t expecting you.’

‘I know. I am sorry for that.’ She gave the woman a confident smile. ‘While you are getting ready, I will run an errand.’

Mary stared at her. ‘But Mr Gilvry said we were to stay here.’

Jenna gave her a reproving stare. ‘And I said I would be here waiting for him when he got back.’

She turned to the seamstress. ‘I am just popping down to the market. Is it all right if I use your back door for a shortcut?’

The woman looked a little startled. ‘If that is your wish.’

‘It is. Thank you. And, Mary, if Mr Gilvry should return before me, do keep him busy out here.’ She gave the seamstress a bright smile. ‘Please make sure the rear door remains unlocked.’

Not waiting for a reply, or for the argument clearly forming on Mary’s tongue, she made her way to the back of the shop and slipped out into the filthy back alley, the kennels running with night slops and other matter. It would all find its way down to the sea eventually, but on a fine day like today it stank. Jenna tried to breathe as little as possible until she found herself out in the open and a few yards from the market square.

Having very little time to spare, she ignored the hawkers and farmers and kept a lookout for a tinker’s stall. Ah, there, a colourful awning hung with pots and pans and a trestle piled with goods of every description. The stall owner’s gypsy heritage showed in his olive skin and dark flashing eyes. A gold earring glinted in one ear. He’d been the one who had brought Mr Hughes’s message to her before she left Mrs Blackstone’s house. He came out from behind his counter to greet her with a quick sly smile and a flourishing bow. ‘Lady Jenna. An honour to meet you again. What can I do for you today? A paper of pins, perhaps? A pot of rouge? Not that your pretty lips need enhancement.’

His point was obvious. No sale, no message. And good for him, too. ‘I’ll take some ribbons, if you please.’ The gift would settle Mary’s feathers, hopefully.

‘How about a gift for a young man with hazel eyes?’

Her heart stilled as she pictured Niall as if the gypsy had conjured him up. His strong jaw. The firm lips that had lingered on hers with such warmth and tenderness. And the determined set to his chin when he’d refused to take her riding this morning. She jerked back from the image.