Page 115 of A Rogue in Firelight

“If Corbie does not poison the waters first, aye. But I can undo whatever he tells Papa, I think. But can we keep our plans to ourselves for a little while?”

“If that is what you want, let them wonder. Is Miss Graham is engaged? And is he a rogue or a viscount?”

She smiled. “A frog or a prince?”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The fiddlers swepttheir bows over the strings in unison as Ronan led Ellison through the slow beat of the strathspey, following the patterns and rhythms as the couples moved in alternating loops. He smiled, seeing Ellison’s grace as she flowed through the movements of the dance. Corbie, who had stayed for his aunt, clomped along while Lady Strathniven proved a lively dancer, hopping about with enthusiasm.

Ellison circled with Corbie in turn, turning away before he could speak to her, which Ronan was glad to see. He wanted to remove the man brusquely, but the urge passed when he saw Ellison’s lightsome beauty and felt the pull of love within him.

The principals’ dance ended and other couples took the floor as the fiddlers struck up a fast reel. Soon the dancers were stepping right, left, hopping, whirling, and laughing as they kept up with the rhythms. Ronan led Ellison into the fray, wanting to keep her dancing, keep her merry and breathless as she whirled in his arms.

Later, in the supper room among the crowd, he roamed past tables groaning with food—roast mutton, fowl, beef, haggis; steaming vegetables in sauces; plates of oatcakes and bannocks with butter and cheese. Another table held puddings, pies, cakes, bowls of fruity ices, while bowls of whisky punch and decanters of sherry wine filled another table, along with coffee and port. Finally, as servants cleared away dishes, couples took chairs to rest and visit, and then in pairs, resumed dancing.

Watching Ellison, Ronan was glad to see that she glowed with happiness in the moment. But he kept watch, alert for anything that might disturb the mood and the camaraderie. Too soon, he was proved right.

Though the fellow should have departed, Corbie stood in a shadowy corner engaged in earnest conversation with Pitlinnie and a bearded Highlander. As Corbie gestured, Pitlinnie shook his head and the third man hunched his shoulders, listening.

What the devil was this? Ronan crossed the room, determined to interrupt, but the trio separated. A few dancers whirled through, so that Ronan paused, and when the path cleared, the three men were gone. He hoped Corbie had finally left, but he felt a distinct unease.

“Lord Darrach!” Hearing Sorcha’s voice, he turned to see her with a tall, thin man who looked deucedly familiar. He had seen the fellow in Edinburgh’s Parliament House. On a bench. In a wig and the dark red robes of a lord justice.

Sorcha’s brother, The Honorable Lord Justice. His heart sank. Sorcha called again, and Ronan approached reluctantly.

“Lord Darrach, let me introduce The Honorable Lord Justice Beaton. My brother,” she added, smiling.

“My lord.” Ronan took the man’s extended hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

Justice Beaton. Ronan had passed the judge often enough in the halls of the Scottish parliament in Edinburgh, had even argued before his bench a few times.

“I was just telling my little sister how familiar you look. Then it occurred to me. Sir John MacGregor, one of our most capable advocates. Now Viscount Darrach, by God! Excellent.”

Nothing for it but to own it. “Thank you, sir. I am occasionally in Edinburgh, though most often I practice in Perth.”

“Which explains why I have not seen you of late,” Beaton added, and his eyes narrowed. The man was no fool, and might know more about John Ronan MacGregor than was comfortable. If so, the judge did not allude to it.

Hearing Ellison’s greeting, Ronan felt relief and tension both. She greeted the Beaton siblings, whom she knew well, and stood beside Ronan, not close enough to draw attention, yet close enough that he felt buoyed up.

“I understand your cousin is the new chief of the MacGregors,” Beaton said.

“Sir Evan MacGregor, aye.”

“He was invited tonight,” Sorcha said, “but he and his lady have gone to Edinburgh already.”

“Sir Evan owes his life to Darrach,” Beaton told the others. “Saved his cousin’s life in India. Sir Evan suffered terrible injuries. But Darrach here pulled him out of the fray in a brutal ambush. Sir Evan is hearty today because of it.”

“Many fought alongside Sir Evan that day. He was the very soul of courage,” Ronan said. He disliked talking about it. “His brother was lost in the battle. We all helped each other survive that day.”

“Must have been hellish.” Beaton shook his head. “Sir Evan owes you. Indeed, the entire clan is in your debt.”

Ronan was uncomfortably aware of how intently the others listened. He had told Ellison little of that part of his life. Yet now he felt her warmth and faith like a blanket.

“Thank you, my lord,” he said simply.

“Anything you need, sir. Anything at all,” Beaton said. “Miss Graham, I nearly forgot. I have some news for you from Mr. Cameron. There was an issue with a house on Castle Street, I think?”

She lifted her brows. “North Castle, aye. Mr. Cameron brought it to you?”