Page 56 of A Rogue in Firelight
“And she speaks the Gaelic, too.” Ronan cocked a brow.
“Aha!Ciamar a tha thu an-duigh?”Rabbie asked her in a renewed greeting.
“Tha mi gu math, tapadh leat,”she responded, and Ronan suddenly felt as proud as if he were her tutor—or something closer, more intimate.
“She will do, Glenbrae,” Rabbie approved.
“Aye so. Donal, please take Miss Graham around to show her the place, while Rabbie catches me up on the business.”
“Miss Ellison, this way.” As she murmured thanks, Donal led her to the door.
“God above, we heard you were all taken,” Rabbie told Ronan.
“But with a bit of luck, I was released. How goes it here?”
“Well enough. Though that scoundrel Pitlinnie comes around with questions, buying kegs and casks. I do not like it.”
“How much has he purchased?”
“More than I want him to have. I do not trust the man.”
“How many casks and kegs are in storage? Do we have enough to send a supply south quickly?”
Rabbie rubbed his chin. “Most of what is here is too young to go. We have a good store set aside, but not here. You know where it is.”
“Aye. Is it safe there?”
“Far as I know. I have not looked for a while. I will send my grandsons to see. Ronan, I tell you, Pitlinnie is too curious. He asks how old our kegs are, how many are here and elsewhere, as if we were friends and allies.”
“It is not his business where it is kept. Does he know about the hidden stock?”
“I do not think so. But he wants to buy all we have. Casks, kegs, bottles, all of it. Distillery too, property, stills, buildings, the lot. When word of your arrest got out, he came around. He wants to join it with Pitlinnie. He does not say so, but I ken it.”
“And you refused him,” Ronan prompted in a growl.
“It is not for sale, said I. Whatever becomes of the laird, we will never sell, I told him. But if aught happened to you, Ronan, what then?”
“Donal,” he answered. “As my brother’s stepson, he is my closest kin.”
“You know Pitlinnie thinks to court Mairi Brodie.”
“I know. I will visit soon.” He stepped back. “I am indebted to you and your lads, Rabbie Muir.”
“Tcha.Let us look at the resting casks, now, where we will find your bonny lass.”
“Not my lass.” But the words did not ring true.
Rabbie gave a little huff and preceded him through the connecting door.
Damn Neill Pitlinnie, Ronan thought as he walked. The man might vie for advantage in the laird’s absence, but that was about to change.
*
“How good tosee you, Sorcha!” Ellison took her friend’s arm as they walked back to Strathniven’s main hall after she’d shown the girl around the house and gardens. Just a reminder, for Sorcha had visited her aunt’s home before and admired some changes, including the handsome new Oriental carpet in the library, Balor having chewed the edges of the previous one. As they walked, Ellison glanced around for Ronan MacGregor, but did not see him; Mrs. Barrow then mentioned that Lord Darrach—said with a sniff—had gone to the stables.
Ellison was glad that Sorcha meant to stay, for the girl was gracious and kind, with a sweet and cheerful enthusiasm. Perhaps Sorcha could charm MacGregor, who could be dour at times, Ellison thought, considering his situation. A true gentleman, he hid it well, though she saw through him more often now—somber and reflective, yet amusing and kind too. All of it stirred and intrigued her.
Infatuated, Adam Corbie had once called her. Perhaps he was right.
