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A Secret Scottish Christmas

Page 52

by Regan Walker

A lock of his dark hair had curled onto his forehead and Ailie wanted to reach up and brush it aside, a wifely gesture to be sure and one that had her looking at her hands holding her glass. She must not give in to such thoughts based on a few kisses. They must find a place to be alone so he didn’t feel the need to cut short their time. She remembered with particular fondness their first kiss even though it had been in the snow-covered woods.

They were almost finished drinking their wine when Lamont summoned them to dinner.

Robbie arrived a bit later and took the seat next to Muriel.

Dinner began with oysters and Madeira handed about in tall glasses on a tray.

“The Madeira is for Muriel,” said Emily. “It’s her favorite.”

Then came the fish course, baked salmon in cream sauce, which was followed by roast chicken and a ragout with vegetables. And more wine. Dessert was a pudding, for which Ailie had no appetite.

“I thought we might have coffee and tea in the parlor as a group tonight if it pleases you,” offered Will. “And there will be games of chess for those interested. But before you go, since we all went our separate ways today, Emily has suggested for the morrow, we might ice skate on the pond. What say you?”

“So that’s why you told us to bring skates,” said Mary.

“’Tis a grand idea,” said Tara. “When I was younger, my family in Baltimore always skated on the pond near our house.”

“I’ve not skated for an age,” said Kit, “and I really want to do some sketches of the rest of you demonstrating your skill on the ice.”

Martin inclined his head toward his wife. “I insist you join me on the ice. Christmas in the country with snow wouldn’t be Christmas without ice skating.”

“Do you skate, Muriel?” asked Robbie.

“Definitely not. But I will watch the rest of you and keep Kit company when she takes up her sketching.”

Nash turned to Ailie. “I look forward to sharing the ice with you.”

“Are you a very good skater?”

He winked at her. “That’s one of the things I can do better than Robbie.”

She thought of their kisses in the woods. If they had been alone, she might have told him she was sure he was better at kissing than Robbie.

Robbie was anxious to know where Kinloch lodged. Catching him there might save them a tavern brawl. He had thought to go to Arbroath town the next day and see if he could find the man’s lodgings. But upon reflection, the better course just now would be for both he and Nash to participate in the ice skating. Since everyone was attending, his absence would be noted, concluding he was either ill or being unsociable.

Having decided to participate, when he and Nash retired to their chamber after a game of chess, Robbie made his intention known. “I think we should both attend tomorrow’s ice skating.”

“Probably wise. Even Muriel means to attend.”

“The day after, assuming it’s not snowing again, I will go to Arbroath while you and the others can engage in whatever William has planned. Hopefully, I can find Kinloch and follow him to wherever he is staying. It may mean I’ll be late and you’ll have to cover for me. Say I went to see William’s ships or some such excuse.”

“I doubt if any will suspect you have gone to town,” said Nash. “Upon your return, you can always say you were in the orangery where you became fascinated watching pineapples grow.”

Robbie sailed his boot through the air nearly colliding with Nash’s head.

22 December

Ailie shot up in bed, the dream still clear in her mind, vivid images of scenes she had experienced deep in the night.

What had begun with gruff men sitting around tables quaffing ale had changed to men running toward a ship docked at the harbor as shots were fired. She could still hear the loud crack of the pistol as it belched fire and smoke.

Breathing heavily, she dropped her legs over the side of the bed and brought her palm to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. Once, she had experienced a cannon being tested and it had been very loud. But she had never lived through the chaos of men firing pistols and muskets at each other. The war with Napoleon had raged for years, yet she had never witnessed a battle. How horrible it must have been for Will, who had endured many before he was captured.

The light coming through her window told Ailie the sun was just rising, which meant it was late. Goodness and Mercy would be waiting for her. Undoing her plait, she ran her fingers through her long thick hair, thinking the dream must have been the result of too much wine last night. First she’d had claret with Nash, then the Madeira with the oysters and then more wine at dinner. The coffee served in the parlor with their games of chess had helped her stay alert. By the time she found her bed, many thoughts swirled in her head, not the least of which was her exchange with Nash.

“Do you really believe the man from Dundee is in the right?”

His question seemed to come out of nowhere. Just a minute before they’d been sitting by the fire, calmly discussing the new ideas for greenhouses he’d read about that morning.