She walked up the front steps through the open door. The great hall was empty now, although she gave a cursory look around. Maybe Rory had gone to the library. She knew that’s where the MacDonnells kept a decanter of their good whisky. If he were there, maybe they could share a dram. It would make the conversation easier.
She’d just started past the parlor when she heard a muffled sound. Something that sounded like a groan. Pausing, she looked at the half-open door. A chair—or something—scraped the floor. Was some drunkard lurching about? She took a step closer and looked through the small space between the frame and the door. Then she recoiled.
Rory and Morag were kissing under mistletoe suspended from the chandelier. His hands were on Morag’s arms, hers were entwined around his neck, and she was pressed full length against him.
Juliana pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp and then turned and rushed out into the cold night air.
There would be no making amends this night. At least, not for her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When dawn broke, Rory felt like he’d just—finally—drifted off to sleep. He sat up and yawned, looking at the mantel clock atop the small hearth in his bedchamber. When he’d looked at it last, it had been an hour ago. Hehadonly drifted off to sleep.
This was not the best way to start off a trip that would likely be at least ten hours in the saddle over rough terrain.
But the terrain wouldn’t be as rough as making the trip with Juliana.
Rory rose, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and made quick work of his ablutions, not bothering to call for hot water to shave. He probably didn’t even need to shave, since he doubted Juliana would deign to look at him unless she absolutely had to. Of all the ill-fated timing…having her walk by the parlor last night just as he was trying to untangle himself from Morag.
Somewhere a very mean-spirited faerie was probably laughing herself silly, but it certainly wasn’t a laughing matter for him. He’d been a real eejit for allowing himself to be duped. When he’d received the note asking him to meet in the parlor, he’d assumed—eejitthat he was—it was from Juliana. The initial at the bottom of it seemed to be aJ. He’d looked around the bonfire before he left and had seen Juliana—eejit, eejit!—but he thought maybe she’d been waiting for him to leave first.
It had been Morag waiting for him. The hair at his nape had risen when he saw her, but she said she’d only wanted to talk. To clear the air about how things stood between them so there would be no misunderstandings before he left the next morning. He didn’t realize until he was well inside the parlor that she meant she was going to wait for him to return to her, and he’d definitely not seen the mistletoe hanging from the chandelier, either. Who would hang mistletoe from something fifteen feet in the air? It would have taken a ladder to get up that high.
He should have checked, though, once he realized Morag’s ruse for what it was. He was a tracker, and he knew not all traces of tracks were on the ground. He also knew most people never looked up, which made it easy to spy on a foe. Both he and Devon had spent time in trees doing just that when they’d followed English dragoons several years ago, but had he bothered to survey his surroundings last night?
Eejit. Eejit. Eejit.
And then—this was where he was pretty sure the fae had a hand in it—Juliana appeared in the hall just as Morag had leaped at him. He’d stumbled back, banging into a chair and grabbed her arms to push her away when he’d caught a glimpse of red hair. Before he could disengage, Juliana had disappeared.
This did not bode well for the beginning of a trip that would take several days.
Rory finished dressing and took a final look in the mirror, touching the slight discoloring below his left eye. Morag hadn’t taken the news that he was handfasted to Juliana very well.
He was somewhat surprised to see Juliana sitting at the table when he came down for breakfast. He gave her a wary look before helping himself to food from the sideboard, but she only smiled at him.
The hair at his nape prickled.
Everything else seemed normal, though. Juliana was engaged in conversation with Greer and Aileen, Calum and Sima were eating, and the laird had just sat down.
“I want to thank ye for your hospitality.”
“Yes.” Juliana said, “you have been most gracious.”
She didn’t look at Morag, but she glanced at him. She didn’t mention his bruise, so maybe it didn’t show as much as he thought it did. Right now, he just wanted to get on the road before any more trouble—faerie-instigated or otherwise—came their way.
The laird shrugged. “Think nothing of it.”
“If circumstances were reversed, the MacGregors would have done the same,” Sima said.
“And I did make a final check this morning to make sure no Camerons were lurking about,” Calum added.
“I’m thankful to ye for that as well.” Rory looked at Juliana’s plate and saw she’d finished. “Are ye ready then?”
She nodded and rose as did the others. “My valise is by the door.”
“I saw your horses brought around earlier,” Morag said, as she smiled sweetly and broke open a scone. “Have a good ride.”
The rest of the family followed them out to say farewell. Because he didn’t trust Morag’s smile, Rory double-checked the girths on each horse to make sure it was tight, and he inspected their hooves to make sure a stone hadn’t been put inside a shoe that would make a horse lame down the road. Everything seemed to be in order. He took the sack of food Sima had packed and tied it to his saddle, then turned to help Juliana mount, only to see one of the stable lads do the honors.Is she determined to shun me completely?Well, he could keep his distance, too. They would be home in a few days.
