Page 65 of Laird of Twilight
“My brother Patrick wrote to say they would likely arrive today. Perhaps we will have more guests than expected.”
“Could be.Tcha,that driver is flyin’ fast on a poor road.”
James chuckled. “No one takes that road faster than you, MacKimmie.” He walked down to wait at the foot of the hillside as the vehicle came closer. It was a handsome black barouche drawn by four powerful bays with whipping black manes. Angus lifted his arm in salute, and the coach slowed and stopped. For a moment, James thought of the devil’s coach said to haunt some Highland roads. He dismissed the thought.
The door opened and his brother Patrick leaped down. Smiling, James went to greet him with a handshake and a thump on the shoulder.
“You look well, Jamie! Being a country laird agrees with you,” Patrick said, grinning. “The others are following—Fiona, Aunt Rankin, Philip, and Miss Sinclair in a second coach.”
“Very good. Who is with you?” The carriage door opened and a second man emerged. “Sir John! Excellent to see you,” James said, stepping forward to extend his hand as John Graham approached.
“Struan! Good to see you.” John tipped his hat, blond hair bright in the sun. “I hope you do not mind the intrusion. I know you did not expect us, but we had a business endeavor just north of here, and Patrick invited us along. Lord Eldin was generous enough to offer the use of his carriage for the trip.”
“Eldin?” James tensed, glancing toward the barouche’s open door. A third man remained inside, dressed in black from the crown of his hat and dark hair to his immaculate clothing and polished boots. He shifted his long legs to lean forward.
“Greetings, Struan. I see no reason to get out now, with the driver about to take us to the house.” His cousin, Nicholas MacCarran, Earl of Eldin, nodded and extended a hand.
“Eldin,” James said, reaching to briefly shake the man’s gloved hand. Propriety demanded that he hide his resentment of the fellow.
“No doubt you’re surprised to see us,” Eldin said, “but Sir John and I have business near here—I have a building project near Loch Katrine—we thought it efficient to travel with your brother.”
“Of course,” James said. “Will you stay the night at Struan House?”
“For luncheon only.” Lord Eldin answered as if he regarded Struan House as an inn. “We will be traveling to our hotel later today.”
“I see. Please go ahead up to the house. I’ll walk and meet you there,” James said curtly, though he was used to his cousin’s haughty manner.
“I’ll walk with you,” Patrick offered as John Graham climbed back into the coach. Angus and Davie joined the driver and set off.
“Couldn’t be helped,” Patrick said. “Nick insisted on being here. He is persistent as well as rude.”
“True. He did talk our uncle into selling the clan seat, years back.”
Patrick huffed. “He and John are heading north to see to the renovation of an old castle near Loch Katrine, a property Nick has purchased. He intends to repair and furnish the place as a hotel. With more travelers touring the Highlands, more accommodations are needed, and he sees opportunities there. He hired John Graham as the engineer on the estate to build private roads, a bridge, and so on. They are even talking about a small canal to connect two waterways.”
“He might find that the local Highlanders regard it as too much improvement to suit them,” James murmured. “Though I should ask John’s advice about bridge repairs here in the glen. So Aunt Rankin wants to tour the Highlands too? It may be more demanding than she thinks.”
“She’s quite enthused about it. She plans to stay at Struan for only one or two nights, being in a hurry to get going. You know how she can be. She’ll breeze through the Highlands in the most convenient and fastest way possible and barely appreciate it. But once home, she will be quite the expert to impress her friends.”
“I am surprised you decided to accompany her. You have scant patience for her or her entourage. Who is with her?” James glanced over his brother’s shoulder to look for the coach following along soon.
“Fiona, thank heavens. I could not have borne that company for long without her. Aunt Rankin has also dragged along her nephew, Philip, and Miss Sinclair. The latter for your benefit, I am sure.”
“No doubt,” James muttered.
“I would have begged off entirely, but I wanted to see you. And,” Patrick added, “I wanted to tell you that I have been appointed to a position in the Highlands, as an excise officer. I am to work with a local sheriff a little north of here.”
“Splendid! That is a better use of your talents than clerking documents in the Signet Courts all day. You have a taste for adventure.”
“Smugglers—free traders, they prefer to call themselves—abound in these hills and all through the Highlands. So it should prove interesting.”
“And dangerous, so be wary.” James thought of Donal MacArthur’s cousin, a MacGregor producing illicit whisky, some of it supposedly fairy make. He wondered if the fellow engaged in smuggling, and thought it likely.
“I am to assist Mr. Dougal MacGregor, a sheriff and laird there,” Patrick said.
James frowned. Was that the cousin’s name? A fair number of MacGregors would share names that ran in families. But a sheriff would hardly being brewing and smuggling illicit stuff—or would he? James knew better than to put anything past a true Highlander.
“I am glad Fiona decided to come with Aunt Rankin after all,” he said mildly.
