Just after dusk, Winfred sat on his horse, stopped on the fringe of the Duke of Gordon’s lands while he watched the glow of the candlelight as the royal ball took place, all too aware that none of Her Majesty’s highest-ranking officers were in attendance. To the depths of his soul he knew this was an unlawful Jacobite gathering, but since he’d lost his leg, no one listened to him. Once he’d been an officer, a leader of men, and now he was mocked and pitied.
And now he’d been forced into hiding by that meddler Robert Grant. When the faint sound of music floated on the cool evening’s breeze, Winfred turned his horse. This was the chance for which he’d been waiting.
* * *
After bidding good night to Janet, Robert stepped into the smoke-filled card room. Through the haze he spotted Ciar at one of the round tables. MacDougall sat beside Kennan, and in front of each was a pile of coins and a tankard of ale. When Ciar glanced over, Robert gave a bow and a clipped salute to tell his friend he was leaving. With Janet gone, he had no reason to tarry.
Then he found the Duke of Gordon and the king surrounded by admirers. He managed to sidle in to pay his respects. “My compliments, Your Grace. I believe this is the finest ball I have ever attended—and that includes those presented by the crown in London.”
“Thank you, sir. It was fortunate you were able to come and meet our esteemed guest.” The duke gestured to King James.
Robert bowed. “Your Grace, I am honored to have met you. Please accept my sincerest wishes for your health. I look forward to our next meeting.”
The king glanced to his garters and clapped Robert’s arm. “I do as well, Grant. I’ve heard favorable things about you and your army.”
“Indeed. My clansmen have supported Scottish kings since afore the time of the Bruce.”
“I am heartened to hear it.” The king placed his bejeweled hand on Robert’s shoulder. “I have every confidence that your loyalty will be rewarded.”
Robert again bowed, deeper this time. “Thank you, Your Graces.”
Having imparted an appropriate farewell, he took a coach back to the alehouse, where he found his men.
Lewis beckoned Robert to their table, the air thicker with smoke than the card room had been. “You’re back a fair bit earlier than I thought you might be. Did everything go well?” Lewis gave him a once-over. “I see no blood.”
Chuckling, Robert reached for an empty tankard and poured from a ewer of ale. “Pull yer miserable head in. I end up bloodied once in my life and you think the worst every time I venture out.”
“Mayhap when there are Camerons about. But I’m glad you did not ruin your finery.”
“I am also.” Robert raised his tankard. “Listen well, men. I have called a truce with Clan Cameron. And I expect every one of you to honor it.”
“What if they provoke us?” asked Jimmy.
“Then I must have word of it afore anyone takes up arms against them.”
“What if they take up arms afore we can talk to ye?” As always, Jimmy was persistent.
“Do what you must to defend yourself. No more. Let no Cameron accuse a Grant of malice.”
Lewis shook his head. “I never thought I’d live to see the day.”
“Och, I kent the end of the feud was near as soon as we rode into the hills with Miss Janet,” said Tormond. “That or else we’d be attacking Achnacarry this very moment.”
“There are many battles to be fought, though I reckon the days of clan feuds are numbered.” Had they been in Glenmoriston, Robert would have said more about the need for all Highlanders to stand together and support James in the succession but eavesdroppers might consider such talk treasonous, especially in the Lowlands.
He held his tankard high. “To Clan Grant, stand fast, stand sure!”
“Stand fast, stand sure.” They boomed the clan motto, then raised their tankards and drank.
“The stale smoke in this place is not agreeing with me.” Robert gave Lewis a nudge. “I’m stepping out for some air.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Nay, stay and enjoy yourself. I have a great deal on my mind.”
“All right, then. Keep clear of Trongate. Word is some poor sop was dirked there last eve.”
“Dirked, aye?” Robert snorted. “Soon Glasgow will be as bad as London.”
Straightening his sword belt, he opted to head northwest, walking through the closes and alleyways until he arrived at the MacLean town house.
As his gaze swept up to the third-floor windows, ice shot through his blood.
* * *
When Janet arrived home, she hummed and danced all the way up the stairs.
Lena was waiting in her chamber with a broad smile. “It sounds as if you had a lovely time.”
“It was glorious.” Janet swayed, still hearing the music, while the maid unlaced her gown and placed it in her trunk.
“All the gentry in their finery,” Lena said as she closed the lid. “I would love to attend a ball one day.”
“It was a night I shall never forget.” Janet sashayed through the chamber and sat on the dressing table stool.
Lena started the task of removing hairpins. “Did you dance all night?”
“I did.”
“Forgive me for asking, but I’m curious. Did any gentleman strike your fancy?”
Janet flipped open her fan and covered her face—all but her eyes. “There may have been one.”
“Och, ’tis exciting. Have you met the gentleman afore?” Pins removed, Lena picked up the brush.
“Aye, I ken the gentleman well.”
Lena’s hand stilled. “If you already ken him well, then why are we in Glasgow to find you a husband?”
“Because the gentleman isn’t exactly on good terms with my father.”
Covering her mouth, Lena gasped. “Do not tell me ye are speaking of the Grant laird.”
Janet gave the lass a wee backhand with her fan. “Since when did you become so opinionated?”
“Forgive me. I spoke out of turn.”
“Nay.” Janet sighed. “But Mr. Grant made it clear he was prepared to cast aside all differences between our clans because he intended to court me.” Janet’s insides leaped.
“Intended? My, it sounds as if he behaved quite boldly.”
“Aye, you should have seen him, and he rendered Auntie Dallis speechless.”
“He didn’t!”
“He did.”
“Och, I would give an entire month’s pay to see such a sight.”
Janet stood and shook out her shift. “I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself.”
“So what now? Will we be seeing more of Grant?”
“I suspect we will. Though we’ve yet to win over Kennan.”
“And your da.”
The mention of her father made her stomach squeeze. “That will be the tricky part. Perhaps I can enlist Uncle’s help on that account.” Janet twirled in place. “I have no idea how I’ll sleep.”
“But you must. Shall I turn down the bedclothes for you?”
Janet plucked a book from the dressing table and sat on the chair in front of the hearth. “I think I’ll read for a bit. You go on and go to bed.”
Lena curtsied. “Thank you, miss.”
“Nay, thank you, lass.”
Try as she might, Janet couldn’t concentrate on reading, either. Setting the book aside, she yawned. Perhaps I am tired. Still dancing, she blew out the candles, leaving only the oil lamp burning near the bed.
Then she turned down the bedclothes.
In the blink of an eye, a cold chill slithered across the back of her neck.
Clutching her hands to her stomach, she drew in a sharp gasp. Elation turned to terror gripping her stomach, making her every muscle freeze.
A plucked white dog rose lay atop the mattress, a dagger through the center, pinning it to the bed. Before Janet could think, a figure lurched from behind the bed-curtains. Clutching her chest, she ran toward the door, but a hand clamped over her mouth and jerked her back, knocking the oil lamp to the floorboards.