Chapter Thirteen

As soon as she left the kitchen, Jennifer went in search of her brother. The fact that they had two MacFarlane spies in the house changed everything. Though from what she'd heard neither seemed very enamoured of the idea. Mayhap they could be persuaded to change sides.

What was she thinking – changing sides? They weren't at war with the MacFarlane clan. Why on earth would the Chieftain put two of his own into Caerlaverock?

She shook her head, arriving at the study door. She gave a brisk knock, then opened it without waiting for a summons. Peter was not her father. To her surprise, Brendon Galbraith was sitting at the desk alone. ‘Where is my brother?' she asked, more sharply than she intended.

The steward got to his feet; his expression impassive. ‘His lordship hae gaun tae the library wi' Malcolm tae look fer another map o' the loch.'

‘Oh.' Jennifer stopped, unsure what to say next. Their encounter the day before had put an end to their former easy banter.

‘He shouldnae be long,' Brendon went on, his voice a study in politeness. ‘De ye abide here fer him ma lady? Would ye like any tea?' Jennifer thought for a second, then nodded her head and sat down, watching furtively as his lithe form strode across the room to pull the bell. For all that he was so very large, there was also a grace about him. Like one of those panthers she'd read about in her father's library. She found herself colouring up at the direction of her thoughts. Was it hot in here?

Abruptly, the door opened to reveal Peter and Malcolm, and hard on their heels, Mrs. Darroch. ‘May we have some tea?' Jennifer requested with a smile, ‘And of course some of Mrs. Allen's wonderful shortbread.'

‘At once, ma lady.' The housekeeper beamed at Jennifer's use of the cook's name, giving the young woman a sense of warmth and an inkling of why her mother took such care to learn the names of all of Blackmore's staff.

‘How did your letter composing go?' Peter asked, laying the map in his hand onto the desk.

‘Felicity has it,' Jennifer answered. ‘I believe it will be just the thing. But that is not why I'm here.'

‘Has something happened, lass?' Malcolm asked, sensing her unease.

Jennifer took a deep breath and told them everything that had happened since she went back to retrieve her shawl.

Peter swore softly. ‘You're sure they mentioned MacFarlane?' At Jennifer's nod, he added, ‘And you've seen their faces?'

‘I didn't actually see their faces while I was listening to them talk, but I saw a kitchen maid and a footman exchange glances while I was in the kitchen. I am certain they were the two whose conversation I overheard.'

‘Why the devil would MacFarlane put two of his clan to work at Caerlaverock? Is there already bad blood between us I'm not aware of.' Peter directed his question to Brendon.

‘Nae that ah'm aware,' Brendon answered, ‘but Gifford would ken more.'

‘Do ye wish me tae go look fer him?' Malcolm offered. Peter nodded and the Scot disappeared through the door, just as the maid arrived with a tray of tea and shortbread.

‘Please leave it on the side table,' Jennifer ordered. ‘I will do the pouring.'

‘Verra well, ma lady.' The maid bobbed and curtsied and went back through the door, closing it behind her. Swiftly getting to her feet, Jennifer checked there was no one lurking on the other side. Truly, this whole situation was making her most mistrustful.

‘I do not think the two servants are aware of our plan to rescue the children from the mine,' she clarified, going to the tray. ‘They know of course that Finn has come from the mine, and that we're likely aware there are other children being misused by Alistair MacFarlane, but more than anything, they sounded scared.' She handed Brendon a dish of tea.

‘Anyone wi' a pulse be afeared o' the MacFarlane,' the steward commented drily.

‘From what they were saying, neither servant has any intention of acting rashly. I believe they'll wish to know exactly what we intend to do with Finn before they act.'

‘Could we turn them to our side?' Peter asked. Jennifer couldn't help but note his grimace at his choice of words, echoing her own sense of disbelief earlier.

She looked over at Brendon. There was no indication the steward thought the words strange, but then mayhap Clan wars were still common in the Highlands. She gave a slight shudder. It was a horrible thought. The last thing her father would want was for them to be embroiled in an outright war with their neighbours.

At that moment, a brief knock at the door heralded the arrival of Malcolm and Gifford. Pouring them both some tea, Jennifer repeated what she'd overheard. When she'd finished, the old steward sighed. ‘It dinnae shock me, ma lady. Ye cannae trust the MacFarlane further than ye can throw the bampot.'

‘Whatever happens, we dare not start a war,' Peter agonised, echoing Jennifer's concern.

‘Ye'll nae be startin' anythin', ma lord. Whatever action we take, ye have tae stay oot o' it. Ye and ma lady both.'

‘But we have Finn,' Peter protested. ‘Those two servants are fully aware of that.'

‘Aye, and they ken ah be workin' fer ye. We dinnae think they hae told the MacFarlane yet. It be likely naither can write, an it be a guid walk tae their Clan home.' He shrugged and added, ‘Ah doot they wish any harm tae come tae the lad. Jus' because they be MacFarlane Clan, dinnae mean they agree wi' their Chief's actions.'

‘They did seem to value their positions here,' Jennifer interrupted.

‘Then perhaps we should speak with them,' Peter suggested.

‘Even if they do disagree with their Clan chief, it's unlikely they'll go against him,' Malcolm argued. ‘They'd be cast out. And that's a fate worse than death in the Highlands.'

‘Aye, Malcom hae the right o' it. Nae matter their private opinions, they'll nae betray their clan. An it may be that the MacFarlane will send one o' his lackeys on tae Sinclair land to find oot what they ken.'

‘Then we have to keep them from divulging what they know,' Peter sighed. ‘We dare not simply dismiss them. That will drive them straight back to MacFarlane. And for all we know, every servant we employ could be traitors to Caerlaverock. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.'

Gifford shook his head. ‘Ah'll stake ma life that the rest are loyal to Blackmore. The two ma lady is speakin' of came only weeks ago.'

‘There be nae time tae lose,' Brendon asserted. ‘Ah reckon the Reverend and ma da must be on their way tae the MacFarlane by the morra.'

‘Ah'll dae ma best tae keep the two traitors busy,' Gifford added. ‘By the time ah've finished wi' em, they will'nae hae time fer anythin' but sleep.'

‘Once we have the children away from that dreadful place, we must secure them somewhere MacFarlane is not likely to find them.'

‘Aye, somewhere away far frae Caerlaverock if the bampot comes sniffin' aroond.'

‘From this moment, we say nothing that might be overheard.'

∞∞∞

By early evening, Dougal had managed to purchase a small boat which he secured out of sight near to the house. It was decided that Brendon would row the vessel up the loch into position as soon as it got dark enough to conceal it from any prying eyes.

The knowledge that they had two traitors in their midst kept the conversation at dinner stilted and anxious, and by ten p.m., those who had the luxury of retiring to their beds had done so.

After seeing his da home, Brendon headed straight towards the loch, Fergus at his heels. He knew roughly where Dougal had left the boat and knew he needed his full wits about him if he was going to get the small vessel up to Inveruglas without anyone the wiser. The midges had subsided, and the strange twilight that passed for night during the summer this far north was further darkened by the clouds. Glancing up, Brendon grimaced. While the added darkness would undoubtedly help conceal him, it would also make finding his way much more challenging.

As he strode towards the dark body of water directly in front of him, Brendon found his thoughts turning to Jennifer Sinclair. What the devil had possessed him to say he found her attractive? No good could possibly come from such an admission. She was not for the likes of him. She'd be returning to England in less than a month, and he'd likely never see her again.

Sighing, he made an effort to change the direction of his thoughts, but the image of her pressed up against him refused to be banished. Infuriatingly, he felt himself go hard which made walking particularly uncomfortable. That her ladyship was ripe and ready for him, he had no doubt. She was young and clearly not well versed in the art of flirtation, but the way she looked at him spoke volumes

At three and thirty, Brendon was fully aware that women in general found him attractive, though he rarely took up any offers of a bed and much more. It always seemed to him that his outside appearance was more important to most women than what was inside. None took the time to learn about him. They wanted his body but had no interest in his mind. Brendon abruptly found himself chuckling at his grandiose musings. Likely they didn't want to know because aside of his pretty face, there was nothing more worth knowing.

But deep inside, he knew that wasn't true. After just two conversations with Jennifer Sinclair, he'd sensed her interest went beyond the obviously physical. And there lay the danger.

On both occasions, he'd actually found himself wanting to share things with her. Things he could not have imagined telling anyone before she literally fell into his life. And watching her compassion for the children being ill-used by the MacFarlane and listening to her ideas of what they could do to put a stop to it, was eye opening to say the least. He would have expected a lady of her position to have little interest outside of parties and fripperies, but even her unexpected dip in the loch had not brought with it the expected histrionics. It was becoming very clear that Jennifer Sinclair was actually relishing the challenge.

The thought of her leaving Caerlaverock in mere weeks made him want to punch something. In less than a sennight, she'd somehow wormed her way into his heart. But he dared not act on it. If her father should get to hear of it, the Duke would likely do the stringing up himself.

∞∞∞

Once in her bedchamber, Jennifer was unable to settle, and as soon as Jenet had withdrawn, she climbed out of bed and went to stand at the window, pulling aside the heavy drapes. Had Brendon left yet? She peered towards the loch but was unable to discern any movement which she supposed was the whole point.

Sighing, she climbed back into bed and lay, staring at the ceiling. Although she wished with all her heart that her parents were here, Jennifer couldn't deny she'd felt so much more alive since coming to Caerlaverock. The balls and routs of the last two seasons had faded from her mind, paltry and insignificant when compared to what she'd witnessed since coming here.

She wondered if Brendon was thinking of her, then berated herself for her foolishness. The steward had more than enough to think about without adding her to the mix. He'd told her he found her attractive, but she wasn't na?ve enough to believe that meant anything at all. Lots of men had told her the same in far more flowery language, though clearly most of them were thinking more of her dowry and connections than her eye colour.

Abruptly, she found herself smiling in the dark. Brendon had had no such considerations. Indeed, in the brief moments before he'd fled, he'd looked to be horrified by his admission.

What was it about the Scot that attracted her so? He was handsome, yes – possibly the most handsome man she'd ever met. But she'd never been one to be overly impressed with a pretty face. No, there was something about Brendon Galbraith – something that called to her on the deepest level. A connection she'd never experienced with anyone else – despite the fact that they'd met only days ago. And she knew he felt it too.

Jennifer was well aware that pursuing the connection to its natural conclusion would likely end in tears for both of them, nevertheless, she wouldn't, couldn't leave it be.

Even if it meant a broken heart.