Page 30 of Laird of Secrets
“I could have sent the carriage for you,” MacGregor said.
“No need. I enjoy walking. Your glen is so lovely and peaceful. No wonder the Highlands are growing so popular. There is such beauty here in the north.”
“Aye.” His sudden, crooked, charming smile was unexpected. “Glen Kinloch is a small and remote place, but it is like the romantic Highland glens that tourists go on about. It has a wild setting, majestic views, and good, hardworking souls living in it.”
She wondered if he was teasing her for admiring the place like a tourist or warning her to remember that the outer world should leave the place in peace. Either way, he genuinely loved his glen. “It does have a wonderful quaint aspect,” she agreed. “Coming here is like traveling back to an earlier time in Scotland.”
“Back to the days of cattle thieves and rogues?” MacGregor drawled.
“I was thinking of something more idyllic.”
“Ah, an idealist,” he said softly. His eyes, in sunlight, were mossy green.
“At times. Are you, Mr. MacGregor?”
“Not any longer,” he answered.
“By idyllic, I believe the lady means the Highlands as described in Sir Walter Scott’s grand poetry,’” Hugh said.
“I do mean that. Do you know his work, either of you?” She smiled at both.
“I have read his work,” MacIan said. “Some of his descriptions remind me of our own bonny glen.” He drew a breath and began to recite in a sonorous voice.
The wanderer’s eye could barely vie
The summer heaven’s delicious blue;
So wondrous wild, the whole might seem
The scenery of a fairy dream.
“Oh, that is perfect!” Fiona applauded. “I am fascinated by fairy lore.” She stopped then, wary of giving away just how keen an interest she had.
“Kinloch knows much about local legends,” MacIan said. “Quite the expert.”
“I know no more than anyone else,” MacGregor said curtly.
“Do not listen to the fellow, he knows a good bit,” the reverend said. “Miss MacCarran, I am inspired to read Sir Walter’s magnificent epic, ‘Lady of the Lake,’ again, since it is about Loch Katrine. We could discuss it, you and I.” He swept an arm wide. “‘On this bold brow, a lordly tower; in that soft vale, a lady’s bower—’”
“No need to recite another blasted poem. The students are waiting to greet the new dominie,” Kinloch said irritably.
Fiona glanced up. “Do you dislike Sir Walter’s poetry, sir?”
“I have read some of it. It did not enthrall me. I lacked patience for the length. Though some verses do remind me of Glen Kinloch.” He leaned toward her, tilted his head. “’But hosts may in these wilds abound, such as are better missed than found; to meet with Highland plunderers here—were worse than loss of steed or deer,’” he concluded, “or something to that effect.” He smiled flatly.
“Ah. Very nice, sir.” Fiona loved the deep timbre of his voice, however mocking in the moment—and recognized his implication. “Oh, look, the scholars are waiting.”
As the three of them walked toward the flat of the low hill, Kinloch set a hand to her elbow. Gentle lightning went through her at the contact. Even his polite, casual touch affected her—she had not even felt that way when she had been briefly engaged to Archie MacCarran. Flustered, she lifted held her chin high.
As they passed the tower house, she glanced at its turrets and massive walls and saw in its handsome medieval design a shabbiness she had not noticed from a distance. Stone blocks crumbled in places, corners were coated with rusty ivy, stone trim was cracked, a window was broken, and the roof needed repair.
“The school was once a weaver’s cottage,” Hugh MacIan supplied as they walked down the earthen lane toward the schoolyard. “So it is not large.”
“The place is old,” Kinloch said. “We have kept it up best we can.”
“It will do nicely,” Fiona said. In the morning light, the whitewashed building and greening hills were picturesque, but now she saw that the schoolhouse, too, needed repair, with peeling plaster, old thatch, a sagging door, a chipped stone step. A goat and three sheep wandered through the yard. The folks gathered by the door moved aside when a large ram appeared and settled heavily near the entrance.
“It will do,” she repeated rather too brightly.
