“We’re warm enough,” Greer said.
“Toasty as oatcakes,” Aileen added.
He looked at Juliana, who hadn’t spoken. “What about ye? I ken the weather—”
“I am fine.”
Her tone was chillier than the air. He glanced uneasily at Greer and Aileen, who were now looking innocent as bairns. Juliana didn’t seem to be angry with them. Instead, she was staring at him, sparks flashing from her eyes. As if he had committed some grievous crime. What had they said to her? Their clans were allies, coming together at gatherings several times a year…
And then he knew. The MacDonnell women must have mentioned their cousin Morag.
The bane of his existence. Or, at least, she had been at the last gathering, more than a year ago. She was the laird’s only child and he doted on her, especially since her mother had died of fever. Rory had made a point of being kind to the lass. Morag had just turned six and ten and, unfortunately, had fixated on him, much to his brothers’ delight—making him the butt of their jokes for months. He’d danced with her several times that first night, listening to her prattle with only half an ear, and had thought nothing of her seating herself beside him the next morning when they broke their fast. He hadn’t really taken notice, either, when she’d brought her horse alongside his when they’d hunted boar, intent as he’d been on finding one. It hadn’t been until that night, at the feast, when she’d sat close enough to rub thighs, that he’d gotten an inkling as to where her thoughts were turning.
He’d avoided dancing that night, claiming a sprained foot, and the MacGregors had headed home to Strae Castle the following morning. He’d given no more thought to the situation, thinking it was mostly a young girl’s attempts at flirtation. He certainly didn’t think she still cared.
And maybe she didn’t. Maybe he was conjecturing nonsense. After all, more than a year had passed, and there had been no contact. She was a winsome lass, a bit too determined to be deemed biddable, but with her father being laird, she had no shortage of suitors.
Rory gave Juliana an overt glance. Was she worried that Morag would not take kindly to her presence? He didn’t know what—if anything—the MacDonnells had said regarding the whole thing. He certainly didn’t want to launch into an explanation if the subject hadn’t even come up. Juliana would probably accuse him of being arrogant and that would launch another argument.
Better to remain quiet, watch, and wait.
…
Juliana had grown quite warm under the tartan, and she didn’t think it was because of the wool or the bodies crammed into the locker. The heat was radiating from within, no doubt because her temper was past simmering and threatening to boil over. For the sake of not wanting to create a horribly bad impression on Greer and Aileen, she held her peace, which only made her temperature rise higher.
How dare Rory not have told her that he had a…a paramour, or whatever they called such in Scotland, waiting at Invergarry. Was that why he had been so agreeable to her plan to head north? She narrowed her eyes. Come to think on it,hehad been the one to suggest they not go to Grant Castle but, instead, to Invergarry.
He probably wanted to seeCousin Moragagain.
Not that she was upset about his having a…a paramour. She was not. Definitelynot. What angered her was that he hadn’t told her. He hadn’t mentionedCousin Moragonce. Not one single time throughout their discussion of the plan, or on the ride to Spean, or even after they’d gotten on this ship. He certainly could have made mention of the fact. He could have said, “By the way, I have a special lady friend at Invergarry…” or something to that effect. She might at least have been warned, maybe even tried to convince him to go to Grant Castle instead. But no. He had not bothered to mention the liaison that awaited him. Not. One. Single. Time.
When was he planning to? Or wasn’t he? Had the thought even occurred to him? Had he not considered thatCousin Moragmight not welcome his bringing another woman to Invergarry?
Not that Juliana was attached to him. She wasn’t. He certainly wouldn’t announce that business of being handfasted, sinceCousin Moragawaited him. In any case, that claim was meant only to allow them to escape the Camerons and would serve no purpose now. She and Rory were both free. And he was probably looking forward to sharing a warm bed withCousin Morag. Juliana sniffed and tossed her hair back. Well, that was just fine. It was.
Chapter Ten
The storm had turned into a full-fledged blizzard by the time the postal packet docked just south of Invergarry Castle. The wind, already gale force, had picked up and now screamed like a banshee. Pellets of sleet mixed with the near-blinding snow, stinging Rory’s face as he led the horses down the plank to solid ground. Baron flattened his ears, letting Rory know his disapproval of the weather, while Misty tossed her head and pranced sideways, nearly sliding off the ramp. Luckily, the mare was sure-footed enough to scramble to safety. The gelding seemed to remember his manners when she joined him and gave her an inquisitive nudge with his muzzle, as if checking to make sure she was all right.
There was no such caring gesture from Juliana. She had barely deigned to look at him the last half of the trip and had spoken even less. Now she stood with Greer and Aileen, the three of them wrapped in a tartan that they’d pulled over their heads; the only things visible were their stark faces with wet strings of matted hair clinging to their cheeks.
Rory thought about making a jest of how lovely the day was to lighten the mood, but quickly reconsidered. While Greer and Aileen might appreciate the attempt and come back with their own retorts, he was pretty sure Juliana would not, judging from the stony expression on her face.
He looked around, not seeing any men or horses waiting for the MacDonnell women. There was a small cottage, hardly more than a shack, that served as a collection site for mail to be taken on. Usually these places had a man available who also served as the mail collector and distributor, but they’d had to tie up to the docks by themselves this afternoon. There was a ramshackle lean-to beside the cottage that could house a horse or two, but it was empty and there wasn’t any smoke coming out of the chimney.
He frowned. “Why are there nae men here to meet ye?”
“There seems to be some inclement weather,” Juliana said.
Rory almost grinned. Her voice may have been a bit frostier than the weather, but it seemed the lass had a sense of humor lurking beneath her scowl.
“I was nae sure ye noticed,” he replied. One of her eyebrows rose, and he decided not to push his luck. “This landing is less than a mile from the castle gate, and the men would ken the trail well, even with the snow blowing. They would nae have left these lasses to fend for themselves.” He turned back to them. “Do ye ken any reason why they are nae here?”
Aileen exchanged a look with Greer. “Mayhap they dinna ken we were coming today.”
“What?”
Greer shrugged. “We cut short our visit to kinfolk in Fort William and decided to come home. We figured we could walk the distance with nae trouble.”
