Chapter Eleven
Juliana’s first impression of Invergarry Castle was that it rose like a ghostly specter out of the swirling snow. Situated on a rise above a loch, it loomed five stories with a tower that disappeared and reappeared in the low-hanging clouds.
The wind, as if furious that it had no frothing sea to stir up, howled like a pack of wolves giving chase and turned the heavy mist into tiny needles stinging her face.
As the horses clattered across the cobblestones of the bailey, she wasn’t sure she wanted to leave the warm nest that the thick wool tartan and Rory’s body heat had created. Not that it was something she cared to admit, even to herself. It was of no benefit to give in to such thoughts.Hewas probably thinking of the Scottish girl who awaited him.
“We were nae expectin’ ye!” A middle-aged woman with a trace of grey in her reddish-blond hair burst out the door to the keep and hurtled down the steps with no shawl, in spite of the cold. The resemblance to Greer and Aileen was strong, so this was probably their mother, although Juliana wasn’t sure if the woman was addressing her daughters or Rory and herself. “We’d have sent the carriage.”
She wondered how a carriage could have maneuvered on the road, if it could be called that. It seemed little more than a rutted trail, but perhaps the snowdrifts had concealed part of it.
“We decided to come home early,” Aileen said nonchalantly as she dismounted and handed the reins to a stable boy who’d come running.
“And we found Rory MacGregor, too.” Greer spoke equally as casually, as if they’d picked up an interesting item at market. She glanced up at Juliana. “And he seems to have rescued a lady.”
The woman turned her attention to the two of them. “Well, whatever brings ye here, ’tis better we go inside to discuss it.”
“Aye.”
Rory slid off the back of the horse, leaving Juliana suddenly bereft and feeling cold at his absence. She chided herself. She really had to stop these mad thoughts. Then he reached out for her, and she felt his strong hands encircle her waist and lift her down from the saddle. She inhaled his scent and allowed herself another second or two to savor the feeling of being cared for, and then she straightened.
“I can walk.”
He dropped his hands immediately. A little too quickly, Juliana thought, but then,Cousin Moragmight be watching from some window. She turned to the older woman.
“I am Juliana Caldwell.”
“I’m Sima MacDonnell,” the woman said. “Let us go in before we freeze into pillars of ice out here.”
Rory handed over Baron’s reins and followed them inside. It didn’t take long before they were all seated before a blazing fire in what probably functioned as a library, although there were few books, and a huge desk occupied the space along one wall. They’d been joined by Calum, Greer and Aileen’s father, along with their uncle the laird. Several serving girls had quickly brought in hot cider and warm buttered scones, but Juliana hadn’t seen anyone who might be the cousin.
“Lady Caldwell was accosted on the road!” Greer said as soon as everyone had a drink. “’Tis the most exciting tale!”
Rory arched an eyebrow at Juliana, but she pretended not to see. She hoped he’d go along with the story they’d used while in Fort William, but before she could decide on how to approach that without blundering, the laird spoke.
“LadyCaldwell? Ye are English?”
“Yes, but my father was just a baron, so I am not addressed as ‘lady,’” she replied.
“But her sister is the English countess that married Ian MacGregor,” Aileen explained.
The laird looked surprised. “MacGregor got himself married?”
Juliana wasn’t sure if he considered it an insult that he hadn’t known. In English Society, not receiving an invitation to a major event certainly would be deemed so. “Actually, it took place five days ago without much fanfare. The MacGregors were celebrating the king’s proclamation that their clan’s standing was returned”—she paused, wondering if the MacDonnells had been slighted about that—“and it just seemed the natural time for them to wed.”
The laird nodded, not seeming upset. “’Twas time for the proscription to be lifted. We couldna journey down to Strae Castle for the celebration since the Frasers had taken to reiving some of our cattle.”
That explained the absence, then, even if she didn’t quite understand the whole concept of reiving. Why anyone would try—or even want to—steal sheep or cattle from their neighbors made no sense to her, but apparently it was some sort of odd, time-honored tradition in the Highlands.
“So how did ye come to be here?” Calum asked.
Juliana gave Rory a quick glance. “We were accosted by highwaymen on the road, and Mr. MacGregor rescued me.” The man raised a brow, as did Rory.
“Ye were on the road this far north?” the laird asked.
“Well…” She glanced at Rory again, but he remained stoically silent. Evidently, he was going to leave the lying up to her. “The ruffians blocked our way to return home, so we headed in the opposite direction. Which was north, of course. And…” Good heavens, she was babbling. “Well, here we are.”
“And where did this happen?”
