Page 25 of Laird of Secrets
“Never. My father honored the old ways. I will do the same.”
“Fairies do not exist, Kinloch,” Hamish said. “Your father honored old legends, and that’s fine. But he made a bad bargain that we knew nothing about until recently. Protecting the fairy brew for tradition’s sake will not benefit the glen. Selling it will.”
“I will not sell the fairy brew. Enough. We will find another way to save the glen and all in it.”
“What if you told the teacher about the risk? She has a soft heart, that one. I could tell.”
“We do not know if she can be trusted. We have too many secrets.”
“Sometimes a man must give up something of value to gain something even more valuable.”
“Tell that to Jean’s stubborn old husband,” Dougal said.
Hamish snorted, then whistled to the deerhounds that had bounded ahead.
Thoughtful as they all returned to Kinloch House, Dougal could think of nothing important enough to convince him to give up Glen Kinloch’s long-held secrets.
* * *
“Good evening, Grandmother. And Miss MacCarran, how nice to see you.” The young man entered the cottage as he spoke, and removed his black-brimmed hat, bowing a little.
“My bonny lad is here!” Mary MacIan smiled, looking up as she set plates on the table. “Hugh, you are just in time for supper.”
“So I hoped,” he said, bending to kiss his grandmother’s cheek.
“Mr. MacIan, greetings,” Fiona said. He grasped her hand, dark eyes shining. Dressed in the old-fashioned black frock coat and white neckcloth worn by Free Church Highland ministers, he was a handsome and robust young man with thick sandy hair and a quick, boyish grin. Yet the pleasure she felt at his smiling attention was nothing like the strong, passionate pull she had felt toward Dougal MacGregor the night before.
“Did you ride far over the glen today, Hugh?” Mary asked.
“I did,” he answered, “and visited the good folk to let them know that the school would begin again tomorrow. I rode here from Drumcairn to share supper with you.” He turned to Fiona. “Miss MacCarran, I hold the living at the manse near Kinloch House, on this side of the glen. Garloch and Drumcairn are villages situated at either end of the glen, with Kinloch House closer to the middle, near the manse and the school. My father, Rob MacIan, keeps the Knockandoo Inn by Drumcairn bridge. He would much enjoy it if you would visit his inn for a good meal at his blessing.”
“I would love that,” she said. “And I would love to see the whole of the glen. It is very beautiful, no doubt with a fascinating local history and legends.”
“Aye. We do have some interesting legends, and we are proud of them.”
“Miss MacCarran had an adventure the other night after you left here, Hugh,” Mary said. “Out walking the hills in the mist, she met Kinloch.”
“Aye so? I am glad you came to no harm walking the hills, Miss MacCarran,” the reverend said. “The laird is quite the fellow to meet on a dark night.”
“I was not in any danger,” she said quickly.
He laughed. “Of course not. We have a brave lass in our glen teacher, Grandmother,” he said with a wink.
Dougal MacGregor had been in her thoughts the last few days. Certainly she understood that the smuggler might be dangerous—he had all but kidnapped her, and then kissed her to distraction before she knew anything of him.
“I was collecting rock specimens up in the hills,” Fiona said. “Mr. MacGregor, er, Kinloch, offered to take me back in a cart we met, driven by his kinsmen, as it was foggy and growing dark. He told me he was the laird of the glen, so naturally I felt safe.” Though from the first she had sensed a threat to heart and soul, stirred by his charm, his smile, his unexpected kiss and caress in the dark.
“When Kinloch MacGregors are out and about in the hills, it is best not to know too much about their business,” Mrs. MacIan said.
“We would not accuse anyone,” the minister said carefully, “but you should know that these hills are not peaceful at night. There are revenue officers and smugglers about. Some free trading traffic goes on here, as in many Highland regions. Nothing to be concerned about, so long as you do not go out alone in the hills,” he added.
“I appreciate the warning.” Fiona turned away to stir another scoop of butter into the mashed turnips that she and Mrs. MacIan had prepared for supper. The MacIans knew that Patrick was an excise officer at the other end of the loch. And now the MacGregors knew. She would have to be wary.
“Good, since you will stay here for a while,” Mrs. MacIan said.
The reverend looked puzzled. “She will be teaching at the school until summer.”
“Kinloch sent Hamish with that wreck of a carriage this morning to take her back to Auchnashee, where her kinsmen could send her back to Edinburgh.”
