Page 21 of A Rogue in Moonlight
“Damn,” he muttered, and straightened as a woman’s voice cut through the fog.
“Is that you, Miss MacCarran? Who is with you?” Mary MacIan’svoice broke the spell that rooted Fiona in place. She glanced toward the cottage, its door open, showing a woman and a glowing hearth behind her.
“It is me, Mrs. MacIan! I am just coming. The laird is with me.”
“Mary MacIan!” he called. “I met your guest in the hills and brought her to you.”
“Kinloch, you rascal! Come in, both of you.” Mary MacIan beckoned. “Did you bring me a cask? Lovely lad! Is it the fairy sort this time? I hope not. I do not love it.”
“Just the usual sort. I know what you like,” he said with a smile.
Fiona looked up, curious. “The fairy sort of what?”
“Whisky. Secret brew. But we should not speak of it.” He sounded amused.
“I want nothing to do with your whisky business,” she said, and hurried ahead.
“Kinloch whisky is always welcome, and so is its bonny braw laird!” Mary MacIan reached up to kiss his cheek as he reached the doorstep. She was a small woman with a froth of silvery hair spilling out from a white cap. Her plain gown and tartan shawl hung loose on her small frame. Fiona stepped inside and the laird followed, bending his head to clear the lintel.
She set her knapsack on the floor, and MacGregor set the whisky cask on a table beneath a window. Standing in the simply furnished front room of the cottage, he looked large, imposing, handsome, and mysterious. He smiled at Mary MacIan.
“I am sorry, dearie, I cannot stay for long.”
“Aye, there are gaugers about tonight,” Mary said. “The lad was here earlier and told me of officers out on the road. Did you meet them?”
“All is well. Give my best to the lad.” He stepped toward the door.
“The lad?” Fiona asked.
“The Reverend, my grandson,” Mrs. MacIan said. “He promised totake you around the glen, and so he will be back tomorrow to do so.”
“How wonderful,” Fiona said, looking at Kinloch. “I am looking forward to it.”
“A pity Miss MacCarran must leave the glen tomorrow,” he said, gazing with equal intensity at her. She narrowed her eyes.
“Leave! She just arrived!” Mary MacIan looked astonished.
“And I am enjoying my stay here. I am not leaving.” Fiona walked to the door and opened it wide. “Good night, Kinloch.”
“Miss MacCarran.” He inclined his head politely, leaned to kiss Mary MacIan on the cheek, and stepped out. Fiona shut the door firmly behind him.
“I wish he would stay,” Mary MacIan said. “Such a lovely lad, is our Dougal.”
Fiona willed her heart to slow, her hands to stop shaking. The attraction she felt toward him was surprisingly strong, but she told herself her reaction was just the result of an unexpected adventure in the romantic Highlands. He was a rogue, and she would do well to avoid him until it was time for her to leave Glen Kinloch.
“Och, hear the dog barking!” Mary said. “She comes running when the laird is here. She loves the lad fiercely and would follow wherever he goes if he let her. She has gone all the way to Kinloch House, she has, and he brings her back each time. Och, I must get her in for the night and out of the dark and mist.” She opened the door. “Maggie! Come in!”
Hearing the dog barking in the yard, Fiona went to the door. “Maggie!” she called helpfully. Through the murk, she saw a black-and-white spaniel, tail wagging like quill feathers. The dog ignored them, busy jumping to greet the man walking away from the house.
Kinloch bent to pet the dog. The mist swirled around him, and as he straightened and shooed Maggie home again, he looked back at the house. Fiona felt his gaze burning over her. He lifted a hand, then strode away, whistling, to vanish.
She lifted her chin. She would not leave. The bond she felt with this place already had a place in her heart, despite its laird.
Maggie returned, jumping to the step and over the threshold, then leaping to her hind legs to greet Fiona. Stooping to rub her shoulders, Fiona then closed the door.
*
Dawn’s silvery sheenand the chill of morning woke her early. Soon she was pouring steaming cups of tea for Mrs. MacIan and herself while the woman cooked savory sausages over the hearth fire. Hearing hooves and wheels clatter in the yard, Fiona turned toward the window to see a carriage draw up.
