Highlander Mine (12 page)

I was beginning to feel weary of all these lies, then, and now. My nephew, however, was only getting warmed up.

Hamish swallowed and took a drink, sitting up straight and blotting his mouth with a cloth with suddenly perfect manners. “She attended one of the most exclusive schools in Edinburgh,” he continued. “She’s read more books than anyone I’ve ever met. And she has taught me everything I know.
Je parle français, bien sur.
And I know Latin, too.
Actus non facit reum nisi mens sit rea.
I—”

“An interesting choice of phrase,” Laird Mackenzie’s smooth, deep voice interrupted. He understood it, as I did.

An act does not make a person guilty unless his mind should be guilty.

Perhaps, in hindsight, it wasn’t the best phrase he could have chosen to recite. The laird was watching us both.

Hamish recovered admirably. “Thank you, Laird Mackenzie,” Hamish said. “If you prefer,
aut viam inveniam aut faciam.
” Better perhaps.

I will either find a way or make one.

Laird Mackenzie was eyeing Hamish with something close to bemusement. I got the impression that the laird was mildly impressed by my nephew, that there was a tenuous fellowship taking hold between the two of them. I was glad of it. Given that I was planning to leave my nephew in the laird’s care, this was a fortunate development.

“Da mihi factum, dabo tibi ius,”
Laird Mackenzie said to Hamish, testing him, perhaps.

Give me the facts and I will give you the law.

“In somnis veritas,”
came Hamish’s quick response.

In dreams there is truth.

Hamish might have passed the test. Either way, the laird took a sip of his ale, his eyebrows almost imperceptibly raised. And his steady gaze watched us with unwavering, calculated curiosity.

Hamish continued his pitch on my behalf. “I can read and write as well as most fully grown men and my skills with mathematics are legendary. Ask me a sum,” he said to the women. When they hesitated, he encouraged them with a beatific grin. “Go on, ask me.”

Christie humored him. “Eight hundred and sixty-two plus four hundred and twelve.”

“One thousand, two hundred and seventy-four,” Hamish said without hesitation.

Christie thought about it for a moment, then smiled at Katriona. “He’s right.”

Katriona appeared stunned. Her mouth opened and closed like that of a fish out of water. The thought that her own children might be in any way at all associated with this little heathen seemed to render her temporarily speechless. “I couldn’t possibly...sums aside, the boy is a—”

“He’s a darling,” interrupted Christie.

Ailie sensed Katriona’s reservations. “He’s just been through a string of trials that would bring out the rougher edges of any child, or any adult for that matter. But he’s clearly well educated. Edward would love a playmate, and Greer might like a child her own age to speak French with. Have they been taught Latin?”

Katriona stuttered. “Nay.”

I almost began to protest. I would be leaving soon, to return to Edinburgh. But the truth of the matter was, I needed money. And this would be gainful employment. Not only that, but teaching was something I did know how to do, even if I didn’t have a piece of paper to prove it. It was a calling of mine. A passion I’d never had the fortune to officially pursue.

All eyes were on me. “Would you be willing, Amelia?” asked Christie. “You did say you were looking for a job.”

“The boy certainly appears to be well taught,” said Ailie, in a further bid to convince Katriona.

“Aye,” agreed Laird Mackenzie. “He does. But of course, Amelia won’t be staying at Kinloch. She has kin who will no doubt be overjoyed to hear of her fortuitous arrival in the Highlands.” His sarcasm did not escape me, nor did the slightest hint of roguishness. If I didn’t know better—and I
didn’t
know better: the scalding memory of our near kiss still touched me in secret, pulsing places that I preferred at this moment not to acknowledge—I might have thought that Knox Mackenzie was flirting with me, in a deeply buried, against-his-better-judgment kind of way.

“At least she could keep herself busy until they are located,” urged Christie. She seemed genuinely concerned about my plight, and I decided she was one of the kindest persons, if not
the
kindest, I had ever met. “What say you, Katriona?” she asked. “Amelia could meet the children tomorrow morning. If they find the arrangement agreeable, she could teach them until you find someone permanent.”

Katriona fell silent for a moment, appraising me with cold condescension, which I found somewhat annoying. She didn’t, in fact,
know
that I was worthy of her condescension, even if I was. “I suppose we could try her,” she said.

“Fine,” declared Laird Mackenzie. “Then it’s settled. Amelia will be kept busy during her brief stay here at Kinloch with her new appointment as Katriona’s children’s teacher, assisted, as it were, by Hamish, who will spend his afternoons learning swordsmanship in the training grounds. I will send a message to Magnus Munro on the morrow, to begin the search for the elusive relative. And—”

“I told you I would prefer—” I began my protest, but Christie interrupted Laird Mackenzie at the same time.

“Oh, that’s wonderful news! Isn’t it, Ailie? Invite them here for the meeting. A visit from the Munros is always welcome. Perhaps we should make an event of it. We could request some parties from some other clans, too. The Macintoshes, maybe. We haven’t seen much of them lately.”

Ailie’s eyes were bright with an emotion I could not identify. Katriona’s expression was easier to read: an embroiled attempt at diplomacy. Christie continued to chatter happily. And I felt a small glimmer of accomplishment. I would earn some money, and Hamish would be safe and well occupied.

My plan was falling into place.

* * *

“C
OME
WITH
ME
,” Hamish said after the midday meal had been cleared away and the Mackenzie clan had returned to their afternoon activities. I would meet Katriona’s children tomorrow morning, and this afternoon, Hamish and I were free to wander the manor and grounds as we pleased. We were back in the orchards, this time among a quaint cluster of pear trees. “I want to show you the barracks,” he added.

“The barracks? I’m not going to the barracks.”

“But, Ami, the armory is the most outstanding place I’ve ever seen. I want to show it to you. A whole building dedicated to designing, making and storing all kinds of weapons. Shields, pistols, knives of every description and more swords than you’ve ever imagined. Long ones, short ones, scabbards, belts. Scythes and blades and these round, sharp throwing devices, and—”

“Hamish,” I interrupted. “First, I’m not a weapons enthusiast like yourself, and second, I’m not sure I’d be welcome in the—”

“All the soldiers are either hunting or sparring this afternoon,” Hamish told me. “No one will take any notice of us. They’re busy.” My nephew was pulling me by the hand, past a row of trained bean vines, a walled garden adjacent to the manor, and out into a cleared glade. I could see a number of buildings in the distance and a fenced ring where several well-occupied soldiers were circling each other, swords raised. They wore masks and held shields and were being encouraged by a small assembly of young men. “I just want to show you this sword I saw. If I ever get to be a trained soldier, it’s exactly the sort I hope to have. I saw one in a book once that was similar, but this one is even bigger, and sharp enough to slice—”

“What if I’m seen? I’m sure women don’t frequent the barracks.” But I was walking along with him, around the side of one of the buildings. We were now hidden from view of the distant soldiers. It would be handy, I supposed, to have a weapon in my possession, once I began my journey. Who knew what kind of trouble I might run into along the way? And once I reached the city, well, it didn’t bear contemplating. I preferred not even to think that far ahead, but it did occur to me to ask Laird Mackenzie if I might borrow a knife, perhaps. I would need to come up with a suitable excuse. For sharpening the children’s broken quills, perhaps. Or cutting the parchment into small, useful squares. I could at least have a
look
at the sorts of things that were on offer.

Hamish led me into one of the buildings, closing the door behind us. He was right: there was no one else inside. The interior was dim, save for the afternoon light through one small low-slung window and the eerie gleam of hundreds of blades. The air smelled of steel and leather and sweat but was not unpleasant.

“Have you ever seen any place so miraculous in all your life, Ami?” Hamish whispered, running his fingers along one, then another, of the swords. The weapons were stacked and hung from rows of cleverly constructed storage racks. There were shelves and sharpening stones. A large firing pit and elevated chimney loomed sooty and black in the center of the room. And the walls were pinned with hundreds of drawings and writings, advertising the thoughtful innovation that had gone into the plentiful arsenal.

“Be careful,” I scolded Hamish, but he took no notice.

“Look at this one,” he said, circling his small fist around the hilt of a gargantuan silver beast of a sword that had been not only etched with intricate designs but studded with a single glass jewel. The grandeur of the object made me wonder then: was it glass? Or a genuine ruby? “Lachlan said this one has killed a hundred men. The laird himself has used it, and his father, as well. Laird Mackenzie’s father was killed in battle only a few years ago. By a man named Campbell.”

How sad,
I couldn’t help considering.
Another loss. Another tragedy to bear for Knox Mackenzie. He must get so lonely.

“This is the one,” Hamish continued, sliding a middle-sized, gold-handled sword from its rack, not without effort. I watched him, fascinated. It was an impressive-looking weapon, to be sure. Beautifully crafted. Simple in design but elegant, too. And by all appearances, very, very sharp. Its metal length glinted as Hamish lifted it. “I could take it back to Edinburgh,” he said. “And kill them all.”

The comment horrified me. I watched him swing the heavy blade carefully in the dim light and imagined the repercussions of his boyish intent. Fawkes’s thugs would overpower him easily, small as he was. They would hurt him. Or they would kill him.

And I would never, ever let that happen.

Shouts from the soldiers reached us through the small window. “They sound like they’re getting closer, Hamish. Put it back. Let’s take our leave before we get caught.”

He swung the sword a few more times and I helped him lift it back into place in its rack. I went to the door and attempted to lift the latch.

But the door would not open.

“Hamish. The lock is stuck.”

“Let me try.”

Hamish was equally unsuccessful in his attempts to open the door.

“It might be one of those automatic devices,” he commented, “that locks from the inside. To thwart thieves. The Mackenzies are skilled at making those sorts of inventions. This morning I saw—”

“But how will we get out? They’ll find us in here.”

“We were only looking,” he said.

“I know, but it...it doesn’t make a good impression.” I was starting to think I was incapable of making any sort of impression that wasn’t windblown, wanton or wayward.

“We’ll go out the window,” Hamish suggested.

I looked at the small rectangular window. A nine-year-old boy might fit splendidly through it. I, however, would clearly have some difficulty. The wooden frame was dirty and dusty, as well. “Even if I do manage to squeeze myself through, my dress would be ruined.”

“Take it off,” Hamish said cheerfully. “I won’t look. And you’ll fit more easily.”

My nephew was already shimmying his way through the tiny portal, until he dropped from view. Then his dirt-smeared face appeared. “It’s easy,” he announced. “Take your dress off, fold it and hand it to me carefully. Then come through.”

Damnation!
Why did I possess such a knack for miring myself in ridiculous situations?

I had no choice but to follow Hamish’s instructions. I unbuttoned my dress and stepped out of it. I wore only a thin shift beneath it, worn to the point of sheerness. The garment was positively indecent, but at least it hardly mattered if it was dirtied by my escape. I folded the dress and carefully handed it through to Hamish’s waiting hands. “Don’t look.”

“I’m not. My eyes are closed.”

“Step away. Give me some room.”

Placing my hands on the dusty wood, I poked my head through the small window, eased my shoulders—and the rest of me—through the narrow gap, maneuvering my way out, falling into a heap on the hard leaf-strewn ground. It wasn’t a far distance to fall, but I felt mildly winded from the entire experience. I rose, regaining my equilibrium, and began to brush myself off. Before I could remove all the dirt and leaves from my shift, I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps. I looked up to see two men standing not three paces from where I stood.

None other than Knox Mackenzie and one of his officers.

* * *

I
WAS
SO
shocked I couldn’t move for several seconds.

Knox’s fair-haired guard had no such compunction. He was tall and well built, as all the Mackenzie warriors seemed to be, thoroughly kitted with hunting garb and enough weapons and other contraptions strung to his belt to arm a small community. He had a friendly face and green, smiling eyes. His brow registered suspicion, but he was clearly entertained at their discovery: me, and my unusual predicament. Bright curiosity softened his fierce appearance. Knox Mackenzie himself, however, let out a low, strangled-sounding sigh, which caused the guard to glance at him, as though it was a sound that was out of the ordinary.

I was only too aware that my outfit left little to the imagination. Knox Mackenzie’s imagination, and every other facet of his self-important personality, appeared utterly stunned. His jaw had dropped and his widened, silver eyes appraised me with all the delicacy of a starving hound who’d been denied its meat for weeks on end. A detail that was clearly highly comical to the accompanying soldier.