Was it?
Chapter Two
“What did ye discover?”
Niall turned away from the window where he’d been looking over the empty, snow-patched hills and looked at his brother.
“Nothing in particular.”
Simon’s eyebrows rose. “Nothing?”
“Nothing of value.” He took his seat behind the desk again. “The lass was still nae feeling well. I didna want to press her too much.”
Simon grinned as he turned a chair around and straddled it. “I would think ye might want topressher quite close.”
Niall gave him an irritated look. “Charlotte is a guest here. We doona take advantage.”
“Charlotte, is it? ’Tis a bit familiar, is it nae?” His brother continued to grin. “For someone who doesna want to take advantage, I mean.”
“Will ye stop!”
The smile wavered and stopped. “What is it ye are nae telling us?”
Niall clenched his fists beneath the desk. His brother had the same uncanny sense of sniffing out what was hidden behind words as his father did. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—share any information until he could find out why Charlotte had been wearing a MacGregor tartan when she told him her last name was Campbell. Had she been trying to disguise herself and inadvertently blurted out her name without thinking? Whisky had flowed freely last night, and she had said something about imbibing. While he doubted his father would do anything so drastic as to lock her away as a prisoner, things were too volatile to be sure what hewoulddo.
And in too much turmoil. Prince Charlie’s army had successfully reached Edinburgh before Christmas, but the castle had been retaken when he marched south to gather more troops. The siege on Carlisle had worked, but the prince was still waiting on French troops to arrive to aid the clans. Some of the clans, like the MacIntosh, were evenly divided in their loyalty. Word that there might be a Campbell spy near Inverness would not set well. He sighed.
“I call her Charlotte because that is the name she gave me leave to.” She hadn’t precisely given him permission to use her Christian name, but she offered it instead of referring to herself as “Miss.” Besides, this wasn’t England and their etiquette didn’t really apply in the Highlands. “I intend to question her further, but as I said, she was nae feeling well and returned to her room.”
Simon gave him an appraising look before he rose from the chair. “Doona wait too long, brother. A woman who appears out of nowhere with no kin to chaperone or claim her is nae one to be trusted.”
“I ken that.” So far, only his family and Erin knew the circumstances about Charlotte’s arrival. Once more of the servants saw her, rumors would start as well. “I’ll have answers for ye before sundown. I vow it.”
Simon nodded and moved to the door. As he left, Niall leaned back in his chair. There was definitely one question he wanted an answer to, but it wasn’t one he could probably ask.
Charlotte had mentioned that he’d kissed her. She hadn’t said she’dwishedhe’d kissed her. She hadn’t flirtatiously implied she wanted him to now. She had sounded completely sincere that hehadkissed her last night and looked a little hurt by his reply. His reply had been truthful. Hewouldhave remembered kissing her, especially since he would have liked nothing better than to kiss her again. But it hadn’t happened.
Uneasily, he wondered if Charlotte might be somewhat barmy. Perhaps she had escaped from an asylum where her family had confined her and she onlythoughtshe was a Campbell.
The thought was strangely unsettling.
****
Charlotte knew she couldn’t hide in her room for much longer. Erin had already brought up a tray for the noonday meal since she’d pleaded a headache, which wasn’t entirely false.
Her mind was spinning, trying to make sense of what was happening or, more precisely,whenit was happening. She was in Scotland. In 1746. Impossible. But…in the twenty-first century, Castle Dounie was only a ruin. Beaufort Castle had replaced it. So. How could it be she was here?
She was still pondering that thought as she made her way back to the library-study later that afternoon. This time she had been summoned. Actually, the note Erin had delivered from Niall a short time ago had “requested” her presence, but she figured that was rather like a teacher “requesting” a student to “please have a seat.” The teacher meantSit down.Now. Niall had meantCome down. Now.
This time he was waiting for her as she entered the library. The ledger with its telltale date was nowhere in sight. Instead, a small teapot with two pewter mugs and a plate of shortbread were on the desktop. Perhaps he—or maybe Greer—had decided a more social setting would be better for the interrogation. For interrogation it would be. She had no doubt about that. She took a deep breath. At least, her interrogator was easy to gaze upon. Very much so.
Sunshine was streaming through the window, casting a bluish tone to his pitch hair, which was long enough to curl off the collar of the shirt he wore. The light accentuated the angle of his face: high cheekbones, squared jaw, straight nose. It was his eyes, though, that were really fascinating. Neither brown nor gray, they were more the color of dark smoke. Right now, they were trained on her. She sat.
“Tea?” he asked, lifting the pot.
“Please.” Charlotte fought a hysterical laugh that threatened to escape. How ironical to be having tea as though this were a social visit.
He poured, then smiled as he moved the cup toward her. “I’ll let ye put in the sugar and cream. I’m nae good at this kind of thing.”
