Page 95 of A Rogue in Firelight

“The Black Watch?” She seemed more interested in his past than in dancing.

“For three years, aye. Then I exchanged to the Dragoons to accompany my cousin to India. Sir Evan,” he added.

“I remember Papa saying that Sir Evan MacGregor was sorely injured in India and showed much courage there, as did the men who were with him. You were there?”

“I was. Many were with him at the Talnar ambush. Four years ago, that was, and in the past. Shall we practice strathspey steps?” He stepped back as if to face her in a dancing line. “Though with one couple and no fiddle, we may not accomplish much.”

She stepped forward, back, lightly hopped to the side. “Cast off left, then right?”

“Aye so.” He reached out, took her hands in his, and turned with her in a circle. Moving with him, she began to hum a tune, the notes clear and sweetly sung.

“You have a hidden talent, Miss Graham,” he said, guiding her around.

She laughed. “My music tutor did not think so. And one, two, three,” she counted as they broke apart, turned, linked arms, spun, parted, faced to clasp hands again.

“There,” he said, moving closer. “We could try a waltz.”

“In case the king thinks it appropriate for the great ball being planned?”

“Aye, just in case”—he drew her close, sliding his right hand to the small of her back, extending his left arm with her hand still in his—“I am invited to that ball.”

“My father says you may only be invited to the gentlemen’s levee for a quick introduction.”

“Then this may be my last waltz,” he murmured, pulling her closer, so that she rested her hand on his right shoulder. When she angled her head to the side, he leaned close to her ear. “I just want to waltz with you. Have you danced this before?”

“Aye,” she said as he began to turn her, gliding, swirling around. “But not like this.” She was breathless, soft, warm, so close.

A sharp knock sounded on the door, and the girl in his arms startled and jerked away as if he were made of fire. Ronan looked up as Mrs. Barrow peeked in the door.

“Oh, excuse me, Miss! Sir!”

“What is it, Barrow?” Ellison smoothed her skirts and looked flushed.

“A Mr. Cameron is here to see MacGregor. Darrach,” she added with a frown.

“Thank you,” he said, realizing Mrs. Barrow was not easily won over.

“Do show him in here,” Ellison said, and Mrs. Barrow withdrew. “I will look in on Sorcha to see if she feels better. Isn’t Mr. Cameron the solicitor in Kinross?”

“Aye. He is doing some work for me.”

“Perhaps he brings good news.” She swept toward the door.

His heart was pounding and his thoughts were still with her when Hugh Cameron came into the library moments later.

“Good to see you,” Ronan said.

“And you. What a fine place,” Hugh said, glancing around. “I have seen Strathniven from a distance but have never visited. I met your Miss Graham in the corridor. Lovely.”

“She is. Is there news? Sit, please.” Ronan indicated two damask-covered chairs beside the fireplace, where peat bricks glowed blue and comforting on the cloudy day.

“I do have news, and thought to bring it quickly. A letter from Sir Evan.” Hugh extracted an envelope from the pocket of his dark blue jacket, and removed two sheets of paper covered in brown ink. Ronan recognized Evan’s distinctive script, the letters stiffly formed; losing the use of his right hand at Talnar, he relied on his left now.

Ronan read the letter quickly.

Ronan,Sir Evan wrote.I trust you are well and in better circumstances than recently. Though we have not met for a few years, I have heard of your exploits and situation from Mr. Cameron. I am pleased to learn that you are free of the burden of charges. You are not one to commit felonies, and a clearing of charges seems merited.

I have studied the status of the Darrach inheritance, including properties, environs, means, and heritable title. The Courts of Session and Lyon Court had the matter, but entrusted it to me to decide as Chief of the Gregorach in my father’s stead. While the courts will finalize the decision, my opinion will guide their declaration.