Page 75 of A Rogue in Firelight

“Lord Darrach, do you have an officer’s rank, by chance?” Sorcha asked.

“Actually I do.” He felt Ellison’s quick, curious gaze. He had never mentioned it, nor was it in any of the documents Sir Hector had regarding him.

“Do you!” Ellison’s lips formed a sweet, bewildered moue. He wanted to kiss that mouth, but pulled his attention back to the moment.

“I do, but prefer Highland gear, and have a choice,” he said simply.

“This says,” she went on, cheeks pink, “any gentleman with the right to Highland costume as a chief or chieftain must wear proper Highland gear.”

“How does Scott define it?” Ronan ruffled the dog’s ears.

“Highland gentlemen may wear feathers in their bonnets—three eagle feathers for a clan chief, two for a chieftain, one for a Highland laird.”

“A single black feather suits if one carries a grudge,” Ronan added.

“I would not advise that,” she said crisply.

“Some might be tempted. Go on.”

“Full Highland costume, bonnet, sporran—and weapons. Those who wear Highland dress can also be armed in proper Highland fashion. That means steel pistols, broadsword, and dirk.” She made a wry face.

Ronan cocked a brow. “Armed in the king’s presence?”

Sorcha looked horrified. “How savage!”

“Anyone carrying weapons will be very cautious,” Ronan said.

“I hope so,” Ellison said curtly. “And Highland chiefs and chieftains will attend ‘with their tail on’—that is, attended by their followers.”

“Is the chief of Clan Gregor your kinsman, Lord Darrach?” Sorcha asked.

“A cousin, Miss Beaton.”

“Papa said the MacGregor chief will lead the entire Highland procession when the Honors of Scotland are moved from Edinburgh Castle to Holyroodhouse to be kept there during the royal visit,” Ellison said.

“How exciting this will all be!” Sorcha said.

“Very,” Ronan murmured. He doubted Sir Evan would welcome him in his tail of MacGregors. He rubbed the dog’s head thoughtfully.

“Balor is very attached to you,” Ellison said. “It will break his heart when you go.”

“Mine too,” he murmured.

She stood suddenly, hems falling softly around her feet. Ronan set the dog down and stood too.

“Sorcha,” Ellison said, “we should discuss the protocol for the ladies’ assembly.”

“We will. And I cannot wait to see my silk gown and feather headdress.”

“Ladies, I will leave you to talk of feathers and silks. Thank you for the advice, Miss Graham. I am the better gentleman for it.”

Ellison turned. Those eyes, those lips, that look of candor and something more. He felt the power of it push through him, heart and soul.

He spun for the door, terrier at his heels.

Chapter Fifteen

“It is alovely morning.” Ellison surveyed the blue haze of the sky arching over heather-purple hills, and smiled at Ronan as he strolled beside her.