She held her breath as swinging into the room there came a Clansman in the McCraig tartan, his bonnet on the side of his head.
His plaid hung from his shoulder and his kilt swung from his hips as he marched round the table making sounds that seemed to Tara she must have heard in her dreams.
He played two tunes, before he came to attention beside the Duke’s chair to ask,
“Have you any choice this eve’, Your Grace?”
He spoke with such a Scottish accent that it was hard to understand what he said and the Duke gave him an order in a language that Tara realised was Gaelic.
Then once more the piper was encircling the table and the music seemed to sweep out to fill the room and to be part of the moors and the beautiful wild country outside.
Finally he finished and once again he stood waitin
