Dubhán gave a gracious nod and then turned toward the cottage. A moment later he had disappeared inside the heap of timber and stone and ivy.
Tavish looked back to the small obelisk.Thirty years ago…
Thomas Annesley had definitely been in Scotland at that time, having left a young Harriet Payne with a bastard son. Margaret Douglas had died at Tower Roscraig, leaving an infant daughter and husband behind in the home rightfully entitled to Tavish’s father but that he had never claimed.
Could Margaret Douglas and Thomas Annesley somehow be connected? It seemed impossible.
And yet, here were both Tavish and Glenna, in situations both would have at one time described as incredible.
Tavish shook his head, treating the disturbing thoughts as little more than accidental annoyances. The past didn’t matter now—there was nothing about it he could change. He was laird of Roscraig, and the future was his for the building. He walked out of the graveyard and down the woodland path toward the village.
He could almost feel eyes on him, though, watching his passing. The cry of a dove diving swiftly into the doocot below had the brief, eerie similarity of a quiet sob, and for one fantastic moment, Tavish had the morbid fancy that it was the ghost of Margaret Douglas, perhaps weeping for the babe she had left behind.
Chapter 11
The tower was alive with music and laughter again, the great hall full to bursting with a crowd of revelers as it had been for the past week. And yet this night the multitude was made up not only of Edinburgh’s wealthy merchant class, but the nobility within closest proximity to Roscraig lands. Lairds and their ladies, at least two of them barons, adorned the feast and lent it an air of refinement that perhaps was lacking even at the great gatherings on previous nights. The music went on and on, as did the stream of well-dressed servants flowing up and down the stairs from the entry hall below, in and out of the doorway bearing endless trays and baskets and platters of food; pitchers by the score.
Glenna sat on the stone steps in the shadows above, leaned close into the curving wall so as not to be seen. She watched those invited, those in service, come and go as they pleased, enjoying a freedom in her home that she herself did not possess. Lovers sneaked out singly to rendezvous with giggles or more boldly in pairs as the night grew long, and their fine, glittering dress—each one more enviable that the last—caused Glenna to tuck her old gray skirts more tightly around her calves.
Tavish Cameron had continued to forbid outright her attendance. And while under other circumstances she would have ignored his wishes and done as she pleased, she had no desire to be humiliated again, her poverty paraded before all the land, including the noble neighbors of Roscraig that she knew by name but had never met.
The cowards.
Audrey Keane, too, came and went as she pleased, and in her bright yellow gown Glenna thought she looked like a daffodil turned on its top. The image would have brought her more pleasure had it not been for the fact that Miss Keane’s gown was—like all the gowns Glenna had seen belonging to the woman—truly, achingly beautiful. The only thing that helped soothe the sting was that Audrey Keane was now being forced to show her mettle.
Many noble young ladies—perhaps the daughters of Roscraig’s neighbors—were in attendance, and it was clear that their attentions were meant for the handsome man who had claimed the Tower. The stress of competition could be seen clearly on the redhead’s face when Tavish Cameron had left her what must have been a half hour ago and headed down the stairs toward the entry corridor. The woman’s obvious distress had brought a small measure of satisfaction to Glenna even if she had been curious as to why Tavish Cameron would suddenly abandon the feast.
Even so, Glenna propped her chin on her fist and leaned her temple against the stones and wondered what it would be like to be in her own hall, enjoying such a marvelous event.
Audrey Keane reappeared through the doorway of the hall just then, glancing over her shoulder at the revelry she left behind. But she remained on the landing between the flights of stairs, peering into the shadows seemingly right at Glenna so that when the redhead turned to look the other way, Glenna crept upward several treads without making a sound. She would not be found lurking in her own corridor and made a fool.
A bulky shadow seemed to shudder free from the darkness of the descending flight, and Glenna thought Tavish Cameron had at last returned. But it was Captain John Muir who appeared in the light spilling from the hall, his arms full of a fine leather trunk. The two people stood on the landing, seemingly at odds at having discovered each other.
“Captain Muir,” Miss Keane said, surprise clear in her voice. “I didn’t expect you back at Roscraig so soon.”
“Good evening, Miss Keane. The laird wished my immediate return with the items he needed.”
“I see. That must be why he so suddenly disappeared.”
“He’ll be along in a moment, I reckon.” The older man paused looked down at the trunk and lifted it slightly. “This is for you, actually.”
“For me?” Audrey repeated.
“You didna think I’d return from Edinburgh empty-handed, did you? When he worries so for your happiness here at Roscraig?”
Glenna’s stomach clenched.
Captain Muir continued quickly. “I didna wish to intrude upon your private chambers without your…I intended to hail a servant…” he stammered, obviously ill at ease in the woman’s presence.
“Nay, nay—I can’t wait,” Audrey said, backing into the shadows at the foot of the stairs below where Glenna sat and motioning for Muir to follow her. Glenna froze and held her breath, afraid to even blink lest she give away her location. There was no escape now. “Do you mind very much, Captain? ’Tis childish, I know.”
“Nay,” Muir said mildly as he set the trunk on the bottom step. “I thought you’d be too busied at the feast to—”
“But here I am, at just the right moment, anticipating the laird’s return,” Audrey rushed on.
Muir did not reply, but only disengaged the clasps and then stepped back from the trunk, giving Audrey Keane room to move forward and lift the domed lid. The redhead gasped and reached in with both hands, and Glenna had to restrain herself from leaning forward in an effort to see what Tavish had bought for the woman.
Miss Keane raised her arms, a sparkling, layered fabric creation draping from the ends of her hands. “Oh, Captain Muir—’tis the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen.”
