Malcolm was examining the pile of jewellery Dougal had gleefully tipped onto the table.
‘Do you think it’s genuine?’ Jennifer asked.
‘O’ course it be genuine,’ Dougal spluttered, clearly trying to keep the doubt from his voice.
‘Aye, I really think it is,’ Malcolm responded much to the old Scot’s delight. ‘But I dinnae think it belonged tae the likes o’ Edward Colman. It doesnae look old enough. I reckon ye’ll have tae get someone in tae tell ye true.’
‘If I’m not stepping on your toes,’ Peter interjected, ‘I think we can get someone from London or Edinburgh to do the authentication. If you use the Blackmore name, you’ll be much less likely to be taken in by an ivory tuner.’
Brendon gave a grateful nod. ‘Ah wouldnae ken where tae start,’ he admitted. ‘In truth, the whole thing doesnae seem real.’
‘You won’t be wanting the job as steward any longer if the jewellery does turn out to be authentic,’ Jennifer smiled. To her discomfort, the brief look Brendon gave her was expressionless, and she wondered if she’d somehow caused offence.
‘What will you do with the footman?’ Reverend Shackleford asked, changing the subject.
Peter grimaced. ‘He kidnapped my sister after hitting her over the head hard enough to have killed her. By rights, I should simply hand him over to the magistrate.’
After rendering the traitorous footman unconscious, the Viscount had laid him non too gently over the back of his horse and returned to where Jennifer’s mare was grazing unconcernedly. Tying the ex-servant’s hands and feet with the same rope that was used to tie up his sister earlier, Peter had put the lame horse on a lead rein and returned to Caerlaverock, arriving much the same time as the two boats. When asked how he’d known where Jennifer was, he grinned and told them that Fergus had fetched him…
‘Hoo aboot a wee dram tae celebrate fer when they string him up?’ Dougal suggested.
‘Be no more than the blackguard deserves,’ sniffed the Reverend.
‘I know you’re right, Grandpapa, but I can’t help feeling a little sorry for him. He was truly afraid of his Clan chief, and I cannot imagine being that terrified of someone who’s supposed to be one’s protector.’
‘Protector?,’ her grandfather scoffed. ‘We have twenty-two bairns in a stable who can testify to that bag of moonshine.’
Jennifer nodded. ‘I’m beginning to realise just how sheltered my upbringing has been. As Dougal said when we first began this endeavour, it’s easy to ignore what’s not put in front of one’s nose.’ She bit her lip before continuing softly, ‘I’d like to help – with the children.’
‘And I,’ Felicity added, covering Jennifer’s hand with hers. ‘But not tonight dearest. It’s been an extremely long day, and I’m surprised you haven’t got a lump the size of Scotland on yourhead. If you’ll allow me, I’ll accompany you up to your room and put some salve on it.’
Jennifer laughed, then winced. ‘You’re right of course, Felicity. The thumping in my head is becoming harder to ignore.’
‘Dae ye need tae see a doctor, ma lady?’ Gifford asked, concern evident in his voice.
‘Ah reckon a wee dram’ll dae the trick much better than any leche,’ Dougal tried again, this time rubbing his hands together for emphasis.
‘Da, there’ll be nae whisky this night,’ Brendon finally ground out in exasperation. ‘We’ve a long walk home.’
‘Neither of you will be walking anywhere,’ Peter declared firmly. ‘I’ve had two spare rooms made up for you.’ He paused and swallowed, sudden emotion gripping him. ‘Do you have a favourite whisky, Dougal?’
The old Scot chuckled. ‘Aye, a double,’ he answered cheerfully.
∞∞∞
Whatever Felicity rubbed on her head eased the pain sufficiently that Jennifer slept like a babe, and on waking the following morning, she was relieved to find that the throbbing had lessened significantly.
Drawn by shouting coming from outside, she climbed carefully out of bed and went to the window. The children were already up and about, and Jennifer warmed to hear them laughing. Watching them play with Fergus and Flossy, she realised that some were missing, and those that were there were appreciably cleaner than when they’d arrived the day before. Likely, the rest of them were suffering the dreaded bath.
Knowing the wolfhound’s presence meant Brendon wouldn’t be far away, Jennifer leaned forward and finally caught sight of the handsome Scot watching the children from the periphery. The sight of him smiling brought back the enigmatic expression on his face when she spoke to him the night before, and abruptly she felt a strange sense of urgency. A need to see him as soon as possible.
Hurriedly, she turned and shrugged off her nightgown, pulling on an old woollen dress. Doubtless Jenet would be scandalised to see her dressing herself, but Jennifer didn’t want to wait to be primped. Running a brush through her hair, she quickly tied it back with a ribbon and hastened out of the room.
∞∞∞
As he watched the children, Brendon abruptly found himself wondering what it would be like to have bairns of his own. He’d never had such thoughts before, mostly he suspected because his whole attention had been on ensuring he and his da managed to survive the next winter. A wife and child had always been out of the question.
But since Jennifer Sinclair had arrived and turned his heart inside out…
