Page 17 of Highland Renegade
“Did you get your business settled yesterday?” she asked.
“Aye.” Cautiously, he sat back down and resumed eating. It was an innocent enough question, but he wondered what she really wanted to know.
She gave him another smile. “That is good then.”
“Aye,” he said again, beginning to feel like a parrot, but not wanting to offer too much information. When he’d returned yesterday, barely in time for the evening meal, Fiona had informed him that Emily had asked for a tray, so he’d assumed she was angry.
Her pleasantness was making him uneasy, somewhat like when the woods were too still and something lurked out there. He just didn’t know what was lurking in her mind. Perhaps he should just pretend that all was well between them.
“My schedule is free today. What would ye like to see?”
“Where do you suggest we start?”
She was making this too easy. Which made himun-easy. Something was amiss, but he didn’t know what it was.
“Ye mentioned ye wanted to ken about the whisky business. We could ride to the distillery, if ye like.”
“That would be wonderful. Is it far?”
“Nae, only about a mile.”
“Did you say your uncles run the distillery?”
Ian nodded. “They actually live here at the castle, but they’ve been out inspecting the barley and the peat bog the past few days.”
“Peat bog?”
“’Tis a marshy field with decayed vegetation. Large chunks of it are turned over to dry and then it’s used to heat crofters’ homes. ’Tis used in the kiln to dry the barley as well. The smoke gives our whisky a distinctive flavor.”
“That sounds…interesting.” She laid down her fork. “Perhaps we could visit the bog first?”
He frowned slightly. “We will ride past it, but it can be a dangerous place.”
“How so?”
“As I said, ’tis a marshy field. If ye venture into the part that’s more mud and water than peat, it can suck ye down.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Nae, the peat diggers ken where to cut.”
“Well, I shall take great care to stay on my horse then.”
“Speaking of horses, I ken I have the right mount for ye.” There was a gentle, old nag that was slow as ice melting in January, which would mean they wouldn’t see much today besides the distillery. And, if Emily were the expert rider she said she was, it would be completely frustrating to ride such a horse. And, if she weren’t a good rider, he wouldn’t be putting her neck at risk.
“I hope you did not spend much time thinking on it.” Emily rose, forcing him to pop up as well. “While you were gone yesterday, I chose my mount myself.” She put down her napkin and smiled. “Shall we go?”
He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this.
…
Emily watched Ian covertly as the head groom, Jamie, led out the horse she’d chosen yesterday. As she suspected, Ian was not pleased. In fact, he glowered.
“This is nae a suitable mount for a lady.” He turned his glare on the groom. “What were ye thinking? That one is barely gentled to the saddle.”
The poor man looked like he’d been caught between a wolf and a bear. She took pity on him, since hehadtried to talk her out of the spirited black filly, appropriately namedMuirnefor “fiery one.” He’d wrung his cap in his hands and it wasn’t until she assured him—in front of several stable hands who had gathered around—that she would take full responsibility if she fell off. In her peripheral vision she’d seen the men start to grin and knew silent wagers were being made. One had even goaded him into “letting the Sassenach try.” He’d reluctantly given in, muttering something in Gaelic that she hadn’t understood.
“Do not blame Jamie.” She noticed that none of the wagerers from yesterday were hovering today, probably because most of them had lost and none wanted to be pointed to as having encouraged her ride. “I insisted.”
