Her Highland Protector. Ann Lethbridge

Peter had been talking to. ‘It is Mary McDougall, isn’t it?’

      She nodded.

      ‘Are you willing to accompany your mistress to the seamstress in the carriage, Miss Mary, since Mrs Preston is indisposed?’

      Mary looked thrilled. ‘Yes, sir.’

      Lady Jenna tilted her head as if trying to decide whether she would accept this as a peace offering or not. ‘I didn’t think you were the sort to change your mind, Mr Gilvry.’

      ‘I am when it suits my purpose,’ he said drily. ‘I also have urgent business in Wick. This solution suits us both, I believe.’

      For a moment he thought she might refuse. It would be typical of a spoiled young miss to cut off her nose to spite her face. But even as he had the thought, she smiled at him prettily. ‘Very well. Thank you.’

      That seemed too easy. But since he could see nothing in her face beyond delight, he pushed the suspicion aside. ‘Very good, then. The carriage should be ready at any moment.’ He would not tell her about his suspicions with regard to the footpads. There was no need. She would be safe enough with him and Peter and it would only worry her. In his experience, worried females were inclined to be difficult.

      As he expected, Peter had the carriage put to with quick efficiency and, with the two women safely shut up inside, Niall leaped up beside Peter on the box. The head groom accomplished the delicate manoeuvre through the gate with skill that spoke of long practice.

      ‘What makes you think these men are out there?’ Peter asked, once the carriage was on the road to town.

      ‘I saw smoke from a campfire. It might have been nothing. A traveller. But the men I encountered a day or so ago were a dangerous lot.’

      ‘No honest Scot would spend the night in the open with the hospitality of the castle so close. It wouldn’t make sense.’

      ‘My thoughts exactly. To make matters worse, the men were Sassenachs. Lady Jenna is not to take her horse out without my permission until we either have them under lock and key, or they have left the area.’ At Peter’s quizzical expression, he grinned. ‘And it is me who will decide if they are gone.’

      ‘I’ll tell my men.’

      Niall narrowed his eyes against the sun’s glare and scanned the trees on the hillside.

      Peter followed the direction of his gaze. ‘Is the smoke still there?’

      Niall shook his head. The faint blue haze he had noticed rising into the sky was no longer visible. But the sun was higher now and a light breeze had picked up. ‘I plan to report them to the local militia. There is a company in town, is there not?’

      ‘Aye. Under the command of a Lieutenant Dunstan.’

      Niall groaned. Lieutenant Dunstan wasn’t exactly a friend to the Gilvrys, although Niall had no reason to doubt that he would do his job and do it well. ‘He is in charge?’

      ‘Aye. Watching the coast for smugglers.’

      ‘He is looking the wrong way, then.’ Almost all the illicit whisky went overland.

      Peter chuckled. ‘Thank God.’

      It took barely a half hour to reach the outskirts of town and Niall acknowledged to himself that he was glad to arrive at the first of the stone cottages lining the road without incident. Perhaps he was being overcautious. They passed the White Rose Inn and, with the addition of two small buds on its stem barely discernible, Niall knew the picture on its sign for what it was—a Jacobite’s nod of allegiance to the King across the water, and nothing to do with the white rose of the House of York.

      ‘You’ll find Lieutenant Dunstan there,’ Peter said. ‘He’s been trying to recruit some of the local lads.’

      ‘Has he had any success?’

      ‘One or two have taken the King’s shilling.

      They’ll pass on his troop’s movements to family members engaged in the trade.’

      ‘You would think the Sassenachs would have figured it out by now.’

      Peter grinned and pulled up in front of a small bow-windowed shop in the centre of town. ‘The seamstress. I’ll drop you here and continue on to the livery.’

      Niall jumped down.

      Peter waved his whip in acknowledgement and Niall could not help noticing how his friend’s gaze sought out Mary as she stepped down and turned to help her mistress. Oh, yes, the poor sod had it bad. Niall promised himself he would try to help his cause with McDougall.

      Lady Jenna swept by him regally with a small incline of her head. He hoped that meant they had achieved a truce. He followed the two women into the shop.

      A woman of about fifty, modestly gowned and with a cap over her greying brown hair, hurried to greet them. ‘Your ladyship!’

      Was it his imagination, or did the woman sound surprised? He looked at the Lady Jenna, who was stripping off her gloves. ‘I’m here about the riding habit we spoke of last time.’

      The woman’s face wreathed in smiles. ‘But of course. Please. Take a seat while I prepare the dressing room.’ She glanced doubtfully at Niall. ‘Can I offer you refreshment, sir? Tea? Whisky?’

      Hell, did she think he was some sort of cicisbeo? ‘I’ll no be staying. Her ladyship’s maid will keep her company.’ He looked at Jenna. ‘How long do you think this will take?’

      ‘No more than an hour, I shouldn’t think.’

      The seamstress nodded a confirmation.

      ‘I will be coming back before the hour is up, then.’

      ‘And where will you be going, Mr Gilvry?’ Lady Jenna asked with deceptive sweetness.

      ‘To the White Rose.’

      ‘I should have guessed.’

      ‘Yes, you should.’ He bowed. ‘In one hour, Lady Jenna. Do not leave here without me.’

      ‘I will be waiting. Please do not imbibe so much that you lose track of the time.’

      A jibe at his earlier tardiness, no doubt. His ire rose. He forced himself to ignore the slur on his character and departed before he said something he would regret.

      ‘What a handsome young gentleman he is, to be sure,’ the seamstress said to Lady Jenna, taking her coat and hat.

      If you liked arrogant men who ordered everything to suit them. Jenna sniffed.

      The seamstress gestured for them to sit down. ‘Give me a moment to prepare. My last customer left only a few moments ago and I wasn’t expecting you.’

      ‘I know. I am sorry for that.’ She gave the woman a confident smile. ‘While you are getting ready, I will run an errand.’

      Mary stared at her. ‘But Mr Gilvry said we were to stay here.’

      Jenna gave her a reproving stare. ‘And I said I would be here waiting for him when he got back.’

      She turned to the seamstress. ‘I am just popping down to the market. Is it all right if I use your back door for a shortcut?’

      The woman looked a little startled. ‘If that is your wish.’

      ‘It is. Thank you. And, Mary, if Mr Gilvry should return before me, do keep him busy out here.’ She gave the seamstress a bright smile. ‘Please make sure the rear door remains unlocked.’

      Not waiting for a reply, or for the argument clearly forming on Mary’s tongue, she made her way to the back of the shop and slipped out into the filthy back alley, the kennels running with night slops and other matter. It would all find its way down to the sea eventually, but on a fine day like today it stank. Jenna tried to breathe as little as possible until she found