Joseph was referring to Alistair MacTavish and his cronies of course, the aspiring rebels. Had he roused their suspicions by breaking contact after that first meeting? Perhaps it had been a little rash to retreat to his manor so abruptly, but with Lady Murray so keen to find and interrogate Charlotte, he’d had little choice.
“Do ye think they suspect me?”
“I dinna think so,” Joseph replied. “According to the gossip, ye were seen leaving Edinburgh in the company of a beautiful young woman. No doubtthatis the reason they think ye’ve left—and they wouldnae be far wrong would they?”
“Joseph,” Niall replied with a scowl. “Ye dinna need to give me another lecture. I assure ye, naught has happened between Lady Charlotte and myself.”
Although that didn’t mean he didn’t want it to. It had taken all of his self-control not to kiss her in the pottery workshop the other day. Oh aye, he would most definitely like something to happen between himself and his beautiful Welsh guest. His guest who would soon be leaving. He tried to ignore the way his gut twisted at that thought.
Joseph snorted. “All right, lad, no more lectures.” He waved a hand. “And I’m sure Edinburgh society will forget ye entirely as soon as a new scandal comes along to capture their attention.”
Niall nodded. “Any whispers of what’s happening with the Articles?”
“Just the usual. Those arguing for them, those arguing against. But there is something I thought ye should see.” He rooted around amongst the pile of pamphlets until he found what he was looking for. “This one mentions a rumor of French involvement.”
Niall straightened, suddenly alert. He took the pamphlet and read it. It talked of rumors that a secret alliance was being brokered between Scottish lords opposed to the union and the French. The back of Niall’s neck tingled. No. Surely not. These rumors must be baseless, the idiotic grumblings of people with too much time on their hands. The rebels wouldn’t be stupid enough to land French troops on Scottish soil. Would they?
His reverie was interrupted by the arrival in the hall of his Italian guests. Antonio and his entourage burst in with their usual loud chatter, and Niall quickly buried the pamphlet under the others as everyone settled down for breakfast.
Flora buzzed around, serving porridge, oatcakes, fried bacon and sausage. She hummed as she did so, clearly enjoying herself. Niall smiled to himself. Flora was in her element. She’d never taken to life in the capital and was more than happy to be back in the country, particularly as she now had many mouths to feed and many people to fuss over.
Niall glanced around, feeling a flush of satisfaction at the sight of everyone eating together in his hall. True, his house was neither as big nor as grand as his brother’s, but it was all the more special for that.Hehad built this community. He had seen his people through the seven ill years when so many others had perished. Pride was a sin, the priests taught, but Niall couldn’t help feeling a flush of it all the same.
The only thing missing was a certain red-haired beauty. His gaze kept darting for the door, hoping to see Charlotte appear. But breakfast was almost over by the time the door creaked open, letting in a gust of cool morning air. Charlotte stood in the doorway, a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders against the morning chill, her red hair disheveled.
She looked as though she’d just woken up, her cheeks rosy from the cold and sleep still lingering in her eyes. She gave a little yawn, covering it with her hand as she stepped inside, her gaze sweeping across the room before it landed on Niall.
The chatter and sound of crockery seemed to fade into the background as she approached. He pulled out a chair for her, letting his hand brush against hers in an accidental-on-purpose move that sent sparks shooting up his arm.
“Sleep well, lass?” he asked as he resumed his seat and poured her a cup of small beer.
She took it and swirled the liquid around in the cup. “Yep. I was exhausted. I forgot what hard work potting can be. Won’t make that mistake again. When I woke up this morning, I had so many aches and pains I thought I’d been in a brawl. We fired the first batch of bricks yesterday evening. They should have cooled overnight. It’s going to be a busy day ahead.”
Niall laughed softly. “Then eat. Sounds like ye will need all yer strength.”
There was a twinkle of amusement in her eye as she accepted the oatcakes he held out for her. She seemed to have settled into the routine of life here, blending seamlessly into their everyday activities, as though she belonged.
Then Niall glanced at Antonio, and his mood soured. The merchant would soon be taking Charlotte away from him.
To cover his sudden unease, Niall lifted his cup to his lips but paused as the urgent ringing of a bell suddenly sounded from outside. Niall was on his feet in an instant, his chair scraping loudly against the stone floor just as one of his men burst into the room, panting heavily.
“Fire!” he gasped, his face pale under the dirt and soot smeared across it. “Fire at the mill!”
The room erupted into chaos as everyone scrambled to their feet. Niall was already moving, sprinting across the hall and out the door, then through the courtyard and up the hill towards the mill. He could see it now, the orange glow against the dark morning sky, the smoke billowing up like a monstrous cloud.
As he reached the top, he heard the panicked shouts of his men as they formed a bucket line from the nearby well to the mill. But the scaffolding around the stone tower was already burning, making it impossible to lift the buckets to where they really needed to go—the sails.
The beautiful, carved wooden sails that had been so painstakingly crafted and hoisted into place looked like skeletal wings in the firelight, the flames licking up their length, consuming the polished wood with a greedy hunger.
Niall staggered to a halt. He felt as though he’d been punched in the stomach. No. This could not be happening. This was a nightmare and he would wake in a moment.
“Where is Knox?” Niall yelled.
“Here,” the giant foreman pushed through the crowd. His face was ashen, dark rings under his eyes. Niall had never seen the man shaken before.
“How did this happen?” he demanded.
Knox shook his head, his face etched with confusion and disbelief. “I dinna know. We were meticulous about fire safety. It’s the first rule hammered into every man who worked on this project.”
