CHAPTER TWELVE
By the following afternoon, there was still no sign of Dair. John saw how worried Fia was, noted the dark circles under her eyes, saw how drawn and pale she was. She looked thin behind her pregnant belly.
Gillian was supposed to sail the next morning, but it was clear that wouldn’t happen now. He wasn’t sure if he was glad or dismayed. He’d avoided her company as much as possible, but he couldn’t help but see her. It had been torment and pleasure. He couldn’t look into her eyes or smell her perfume without wanting to drag her into his arms.
Best she was gone, he thought,and soon.
When Fia asked to see him, he expected she would tell him that plans had changed, and Angus would take Gillian to Edinburgh aboard theMaid. That was fine by John—he could easily manage things until Dair arrived home.
Gillian’s MacLeod escorts were anxious. They’d been given the task of taking their laird’s daughter to her wedding, and Donal MacLeod would expect a full report of any problems. He didn’t like bad news, had no patience with delays or misadventures, or so Fia said. All five MacLeod warriors were pacing the floor of the hall as John made his way to the library.
The only one who didn’t seem concerned was Gillian herself. She was calmly playing with her niece and nephew as he passed.She’ll make a wonderful mother, he thought, and gritted his teeth.
He found Fia using Dair’s telescope to scan the sea. “Is there any sign of him?” he asked her, and she turned.
“No, not yet.”
He helped her to a chair, watched her try to find a comfortable position. She frowned at him once she was settled. “You look like you haven’t slept,” she said to him.
“Me?” He looked at her in surprise. Trust Fia to notice even the subtlest changes in the people she cared about. “I’m fine,” he assured her, then forced a grin. “Better than fine.”
She sent him a look of mild rebuke. “I hope the same can be said of Elspeth, or Rhona, or Effie . . .”
He winked, played the rogue. “A gentleman never gossips.” He sat beside her. “And how are you feeling?”
She put a hand to her belly, rubbed gently. “Tired. Worried.”
“About Dair? Dair is a fine sailor, and he has the devil’s own luck in the kind of seas that would sink anyone else. He’ll be—”
She held up her hand to stop him. “I know, I know. Angus keeps reminding me of it. Still . . .” she sighed. “It’s not him I’m concerned about right this moment. I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Anything,” he said.
She smiled sweetly. “Dear, noble John. I can always count on you. I’m glad you’re here at Carraig Brigh.” He made no reply, waited for her to continue. “As you know, my sister Gillian is to be married in Edinburgh in a little more than a fortnight’s time. She was supposed to be here for a week, but it’s stretched to almost three, waiting for Dair.”
“Aye,” he said. He was well aware of every day, every minute Gillian had been here.
“And Dair was to escort her to her wedding aboard theVirginand give her away to Sir Douglas.”
He nodded. His belly tensed, suspecting now that Fia’s favor was going to be something he wasn’t going to like.
“It’s clear that if we wait for Dair . . .” Her voice hitched. “If we wait for him, Gillian will be late for her wedding. What if her groom thinks she isn’t coming?”
He relaxed. “Ah—you want me to find someone to take a letter to Edinburgh.”
She gave him the kind of look women give men who are particularly slow. “I want you to take Gillian to Edinburgh.”
“Me?” He rose to his feet in sheer astonishment. “Me?”
Fia smiled sweetly. “Of course you. You’re Dair’s captain, and his friend. That makes you my friend, and Gillian’s. I know you won’t sail, but there’s just enough time to go by land. If you leave tomorrow, you should reach Edinburgh a day or two before the wedding. It won’t be much time, but it will have to do.”
John stared at her. He thought of long days on the road with Gillian by his side—along with five MacLeod clansmen, of course. He wondered if they shared the same sentiments as their laird regarding Englishmen. “Why not send Angus Mor?” he suggested.
“Because Annie’s babe is due any day now. He’ll want to be here.”
He pointed to the door. “But surely all those fine MacLeod warriors can take her. They’re built like blockhouses. They can easily protect her. She doesn’t need me.”
“Of course they can. They’d give their life for her. But Dair was supposed to give Gillian away—an earl, a chief, her brother by marriage—since my father can’t be there.” She looked at him expectantly, and waited.
