Page 101 of A Rogue in Firelight
Ronan stepped outside into a light rain under a darkling sky. Donal came running, leading three fresh saddled horses with the help of a groom, who led Aleck’s horse back to the stables.
“Geordie may have seen the men tonight,” Aleck said. “He may be able to tell us more.”
“Aye, then. We ride for Invermorie,” Ronan said.
*
Tapping her fingersrhythmically on the old, scarred table, Ellison caught the faint scent of the lemon and oil polish that one of the maids had used recently. The scent stirred her out of thoughts and worries and back to the too-quiet tower library and her unwritten letters. What had brought Aleck Muir here so late? By the chime of the clock set in the bookshelf, it was past eleven at night. Had something gone wrong at the distillery?
Frowning, she dipped her pen in ink again and set it to paper to answer her father’s letter but blotted the next line she wrote. Truly, she only wanted to tell him not to send Adam Corbie here. But it would be too late—Corbie would reach Strathniven before her letter would reach the Edinburgh New Town. With a resigned sigh, she stood and went to the window, where rain had begun to sweep down from a sky gone eerie gray-green.
A new rhythm merged with the patter of the rain, and Ellison leaned forward to see three horses and their riders pounding over the earthen drive that fronted the house, riding toward the open road. The man in the lead was deeply familiar to her now, his long, lean silhouette swathed in cloak and plaid against the rain. The others, she realized, must be Donal and Aleck. Where were they heading with such urgency, in such weather?
Worry swept through her, but she took a breath against its force, spreading her fingers on the cool window glass, rain sliding down the other side of the glass. Taking a deep breath, she felt something strong and certain begin to emerge within her. She need not give in to fretful uncertainty. She could rise above it, she knew that now. Facing smugglers by the Lealtie Burn had shown her that. Being with Ronan MacGregor had shown her that she need not hide behind extended mourning and meekness any longer.
Straightening her shoulders, taking another breath of resolve, she left the room. However late the hour, she must try to rest. Ronan would be back soon, and safe. She trusted him, and now must trust that all would be well.
*
“In May Ithink it was,” Aleck said, “when Pitlinnie took a half dozen kegs of Glenbrae with his own load over the hills to Culross to ship out.”
“Aye, that is the claim Dawson used against us, though we had done naught.” Ronan sat with Aleck, Donal, Sir Ludo, Rabbie, and Tam Comrie in the great hall at Invermorie. They had a dram each, or more, and Ludo had scrabbled together cheese and oatcakes. The rain pounded the roof and windows, and they spoke quietly, while Mairi sat with Geordie above stairs.
Upon arriving, Mairi had allowed them to talk to Geordie for only a few minutes. The lad was bruised and swollen, bandaged and made more comfortable, but he was tired and mildly confused. Someone had leaped on him in the dark—two men, he thought, one in Highland dress, one not; both spoke English. He fought back, blacked out, and could remember no more. When Mairi returned with a poultice and a potion, she ushered them out of the room. Geordie, she said, would heal, but had taken a hard knock to his head, had a broken rib or two, a broken hand as well.
“The lad gave as good as he got, I think. And I hope they are sore hurting. I will watch over him for a while.”
Now, Rabbie shook his head. “The last of our lot that went out with Pitlinnie,” he said. “But for the new casks at Glenbrae, the rest of our store was in the Darrach caves. We have not shipped anything out but for that sold in shops in the towns and in Perth.”
“What went out from Culross marked the last of my brother’s and Darrach’s agreement with Sir Neill,” Ronan went on. “He made a good profit with us, but he cannot move a drop of ours without my consent. And I have been away,” he added wryly. “Not only that, we swore off such deals. Done with the free trade.”
“Done?” Aleck asked. Ronan answered with a curt and final nod.
“So they decided to steal it outright,” Rabbie said.
“If them, why now?” Aleck asked.
“Who else? And how did they find it?” Donal added.
Ronan shook his head. “It is a fair wealth of whisky, worth searching out. With me away and you lads distracted with the work at the distillery and all, it may have seemed the right time to look for our store.”
“And finding it, take it,” Tam Comrie said. Tough and gray, the grizzled fellow had been groundskeeper at Darrach estate since Ronan’s uncle had been there and had stayed when John inherited and stayed even since, he and wife alone at the castle, awaiting news of the new lord. Ronan very much wanted to tell Tam, knew he would be pleased, but this was no time to share his news. Far more important matters were to hand this night.
“But you came back to the glen,” Sir Ludo said. “Pitlinnie knew he must act.”
“You surprised all of us, returning to fetch whisky for the king,” Rabbie said.
“The king!” Sir Ludo brightened like a lamp at that. “What do you mean?”
“A supply of Glenbrae whisky is promised for the royal visit,” Ronan said succinctly, for he had not mentioned the situation to Sir Ludo. “I will explain later.”
“I want to hear it,” Ludo said.
“The whisky in those caves was there not long ago,” Tam said. “Rabbie and I saw it but a month past. That lot did not walk away on its own.”
“I told you all I know and all we saw, truly,” Aleck said, and Ronan nodded.
“I hear,” Tam said, “that Glen Brae and all that the glen holds has been sold. I hear the distillery belongs to another now, and its whisky too. Or soon will.”
