Page 25 of A Rogue in Moonlight
“Very little. She breaks rocks for amusement.”
“Tcha,”Hamish said, shaking his head. “We will tell her about the sprites who haunt the caves, and the tall ancient race of fairies who live in the hills, and the ghosts who bother all at Kinloch House. Except they do not, but she does not know that.”
“When she first saw me on the mountain, she thought I was one of the Sidhe. I only startled her for a moment. She was not frightened enough to leave, I can tell you that.”
“Then warn her of women stolen away by the fairies.”
“Scaring her is not the way. And do not take your wild scheme to the uncles.”
“We cannot risk gaugers learning that we have a supply of whisky more valuable than any cargo yet moved out of this glen. And we do not need the sister of a gauger wandering the hills breaking rocks and seeing what we do.”
“I do not want to sell that cache of whisky, Hamish,” Dougal murmured.
“You have no choice. We all agreed. Selling that whisky will help you buy back the land that might be sold out from under us.” His uncle looked hard at him. “Sell that cache once. Or you could sell fairy brew more often and earn a fortune. Some of us think you should.”
“My father honored the old ways. I will do the same.”
“Fairies do not exist, Kinloch,” Hamish said. “Your father honoredold legends, and that’s fine. But he made a bad bargain that we only learned of recently. Protecting the fairy brew for tradition’s sake will not benefit the glen. Selling fairy brew will.”
“I will not sell the fairy whisky. Enough. We will find another way to save the glen.”
“What if the wee teacher knew about the risk? She has a soft heart, that one. I could tell.”
“We do not know if she can be trusted. There are too many secrets here, Hamish.”
“Sometimes a man must give up something he values to gain something even more valuable.”
“Tell that to Jean’s stubborn old husband,” Dougal said.
Hamish snorted, then whistled to the deerhounds that had bounded ahead.
Thoughtful as they returned to Kinloch House, Dougal could think of nothing important enough to convince him to give up Glen Kinloch’s long-held secrets.
Then Lucy came running out the door to greet him, curls bouncing, sweet little voice calling, and he knew he had something of value beyond all else.
*
“Good evening, Grandmother.And Miss MacCarran, how nice to see you.” Reverend Hugh MacIan entered the cottage as he spoke, then removed his black-brimmed hat and bowed a little.
“My bonny lad is here!” Mary MacIan smiled, setting plates on the table. “You are just in time for supper.”
“So I hoped,” he said, bending to kiss his grandmother’s cheek.
“Mr. MacIan, greetings,” Fiona said. He grasped her hand, dark eyes shining. Dressed in the old-fashioned black frock coat and white neckcloth worn by Free Church Highland ministers, he was ahandsome and robust young man with thick sandy hair and a boyish grin. She smiled, enjoying his friendly attention. Yet it was nothing like the strong, passionate pull she had felt toward Dougal MacGregor the night before. And then she told herself to stop that, forget the laird, move on with the day.
“Did you ride far over the glen today, Hugh?” Mary asked.
“I did,” he answered, “and visited the good folk to let them know that the school would begin again tomorrow. I rode here from Drumcairn to share supper with you.” He turned to Fiona. “Miss MacCarran, I hold the living at the manse near Kinloch House, on this side of the glen. Garloch and Drumcairn are villages situated at either end of the glen, with Kinloch House closer to the middle, near the manse and the school. My father, Rob MacIan, keeps the Knockandoo Inn by Drumcairn Bridge. He would much enjoy it if you would visit his inn for a good meal at his blessing.”
“I would love that,” she said. “And I would love to see the whole of the glen. It is very beautiful, no doubt with a fascinating local history and legends.”
“Aye. We do have some interesting legends, and we are proud of them. I wanted to take you about today to show you our glen and introduce you, but I got caught up in my visits, which took longer than I expected.”
“Hugh is beloved here,” Mary MacIan said proudly. “Miss MacCarran had an adventure last night,” she went on. “Out walking the hills in the mist, she met Kinloch.”
“Aye so? I am sure you came to no harm out in the hills, Miss MacCarran,” the reverend said. “Though the laird is quite the fellow to meet of an evening. That must have been a shock.”
She wondered why he would say so. “He was—courteous. I was not in danger.”
