Page 53 of Laird of Secrets
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The next afternoon, as the door to the schoolhouse opened and the students exited into the sunshine, Dougal walked toward the school. He came from an adjacent glen slope, where a distillery was hidden in a thicket of evergreen trees. Fergus had started a new batch of whisky there, and Hamish’s sons, Will and John, were testing the proof on a previous batch. Dougal had stayed to help until the angle of the sun reminded him that he wanted to get to the schoolhouse before lessons ended.
Walking there now, he saw the door open and children emerging. He waited, folding his arms, watching for her.
For days, he had wanted a private word with Fiona MacCarran, but he had let other matters interfere. Even the day before, he had not taken much time to speak to her. He did not feel ready, somehow, needed his distance.
Besides, there were matters that needed his attention. The barley recently laid down to germinate for a new batch of brew required shoveling and turning. Then he had ridden out of the glen to go to Loch Lomond to meet with English clients interested in Glen Kinloch whisky. That visit was worth a stay at an inn—their offers gave Lord Eldin competition, although the earl did not know it.
Upon his return to the glen, Ranald and Fergus told him of their attempt to convince the new dominie that the roof was bad and she should suspend school sessions. Dougal knew he must speak with her about that and other matters.
Though he had kept away, time and distance had not changed his feelings. Whenever he saw her, he near stopped in his tracks—glancing out a window in his tower, he had seen her head toward the schoolhouse, moving gracefully, arms filled with books; looking across the glen hills, he had seen her far off, searching for rocks and fossils, her face lifted to sunlight or bonneted in rain.
Just yesterday, he had glanced up at the sound of her voice and nearly forgot that he was playing ball, where normally he never lost focus. Each time he saw her, his heart stirred, thumping as if he was a half-bearded youth.
As many excuses as he found to keep away, from tasks in a stillhouse to visiting tenants, counting herds, or leaving the glen altogether, he could not stop thinking about her. Whenever he saw her, his body responded, his heart craved, yet his resistance made his loneliness feel even more profound.
He was glad, now, that he had waited to speak with her until after his meeting with Lord Eldin. It was all too clear that the girl had to leave the glen, as much as he wanted her to stay. But the Laird of Kinloch had best manage the complications of his life alone.
Nodding a greeting to the children as they passed, he stood waiting. After a few minutes, Fiona MacCarran emerged from the schoolhouse, tying the ribbons of her bonnet. Seeing him, she paused as if startled. Then she walked toward him.
His heart pounded hard. She was simply beautiful in the gray gown, jacket, and bonnet that she had worn the first time he had seen her on the hillside. The wind pushing the soft fabrics revealed her womanly form and the natural, alluring, confident way she moved. He could have watched her endlessly.
“Mr. MacGregor,” she greeted him quietly. “You wish to speak to me about some matter on your mind?”
“I do,” he said smoothly. “So my uncles told you about the roof?”
“They did. I asked if it could be patched, and delayed until I am gone.” She lifted her chin, her eyes snapping blue, bright and stubborn. “Unless you have your way and I leave soon.”
“If I could have my way with you, lass,” he said low, “we would not be talking about a roof just now.”
Her cheeks glowed like pink fire, and he saw her pinch back a smile. Tendrils of dark, glossy hair escaped her bonnet. He wanted to pull the hat away, loosen her hair, pull her close—
“About the repairs,” she reminded him.
“Aye.” He cleared his throat. “The thatch and some of the rafters need replacing. My uncles would rather install a slate roof, which would last longer and give better protection against the elements. But that would take time.”
“Can it wait?”
“Some kind of repair must be done soon since it is leaking. One more good rainstorm and the old thatch will come down over your pupils’ heads.”
“So your uncles said. If you knew the schoolhouse was in such condition, why were the repairs not made before sessions began again?”
“My uncles made some repairs a while ago. We did not expect you so soon.”
“Or perhaps you are still telling me that I am not wanted in Glen Kinloch.”
“You are wanted,” he said, “in the glen.”
She tilted her head. “But not by you.”
He sighed, looked away. “This glen is not a good or safe place for the sister of a gauger. It can be dangerous at times, as you have already seen.”
“The only threat to me so far seems to be from you.”
“And the roof."
“Please do not send me away. I do not want to go,” she said bluntly.
