“One benefit of bad weather.” Mr. Mackenzie raised a finger. “It keeps German torpedo boats and aircraft away.”
Across the table from Cilla, Neil harrumphed. “The Germanswould stay far from Scottish shores if not for English warmongering.”
“Neil,” his mother said softly. “Not at dinner, please.”
A natural way for Cilla to learn more about the separatists. “I don’t mind, Mrs. Mackenzie. I’m curious about this. Although I went to school in England, I don’t know much about Scottish politics.”
“Because you went to school inEngland,” Neil said with a look firm but not dismissive.
“If I remember correctly, the Acts of Union were signed in 1707?”
“Aye.” Behind Neil, light rain pattered on the windowpanes. “A treaty forced on the Scottish people against their will by a handful of wealthy Scottish peers, all for money.”
Cilla needed to tread carefully, to avoid stoking fury between brothers. “Do the Scottish people oppose the union today?”
Mrs. Mackenzie twisted her napkin in her lap. “Most dinnae oppose it, especially with the war on. Some fancy more Scottish representation in Westminster, some want a Scottish parliament for matters of local concern, and others want complete separation.”
“That’s what Free Caledonia wants.” Neil’s gaze pounced on Lachlan. “No true Scot can be a friend to England.”
Cilla held her breath.
Lachlan clenched his fork so hard his knuckles whitened, but he said nothing.
“Neil.” His father’s voice sliced like flint. “We’ve asked you—”
“She asked a question, and I answered it.” He sipped with an innocent air.
“I did ask.” Cilla gave her host a chagrined look. “I apologize.”
“No, lass,” Mr. Mackenzie said. “It’s my son who should be apologizing.”
“It’s all right. Iamcurious about Free Caledonia.” Cilla laid her silverware on her empty plate. “I’m fascinated by Scotland. Is your group large? Do you have chapters throughout the country?”
As Neil chewed, he eyed his brother.
Lachlan set his napkin on the table beside his empty plate. “Excuse me, please. I hear Effie at the door.”
“Of course, love,” his mother said.
Cilla watched Lachlan’s broad back retreat from the dining room. Perhaps he realized Neil would speak more freely in his absence, and she turned an expectant smile to Neil.
Neil rolled his spoon in his fingers. “We started in Edinburgh. I belong to the Inverness chapter. A few of us meet in Thurso at the Claymore and Heath.”
A pub, most likely, and her nerves tingled with excitement. Now she had a group for Fergus to join—if only in Cilla’s imagination.
Tiny toenails clicked on the flagstone floor. Effie trotted up to Cilla, and Cilla scratched the dog behind her ears—damp but not sopping. Lachlan must have dried her with a towel.
Lachlan remained in the doorway. “There’s a break in the rain. We should leave soon.”
“Oh.” Disappointment twined around Cilla’s vocal cords, but at least she’d finished eating. “I suppose that’s wise.”
“Och, lass. That is the way of living in Scotland.” Mr. Mackenzie pushed back his chair and stood. “When you have a break in the weather, you run through it. You never know if another break will ever come.”
Cilla laughed. She’d been in Scotland only five months, but she understood.
In the entryway, Cilla and Lachlan put on their coats and hats, Mr. Mackenzie helping Cilla with her coat.
Mrs. Mackenzie pressed up on her toes and kissed Lachlan’s cheek. “I know you’re disappointed the Admiralty didnae approveyour transfer, but I’m selfishly happy. It’s a blessing to see you so often.”
