Page 26 of A Rogue in Moonlight
He laughed. “Of course not. We have a brave lass in our glen teacher, Grandmother,” he said with a wink.
Dougal MacGregor had been constantly in her thoughts. Certainly she understood that the smuggler might be dangerous—he had all but kidnapped her, and then kissed her to distraction before she knew anything of him.
“I was collecting rock specimens up in the hills,” Fiona said. “Mr. MacGregor, er, Kinloch, took me back in a cart when we met his kinsmen driving by, for it was foggy and getting dark. When I learned he was laird in this glen, naturally I felt safe.” Though she knew he was a threat to her heart, this laird with his unexpected kisses in the dark, kisses she had dearly wanted. She glanced away.
“When Kinloch MacGregors are out and about in the hills, it is best not to know too much about their business,” Mrs. MacIan said.
“We will not accuse anyone,” the minister said carefully, “but Miss MacCarran, it is true these hills are not safe at night. Revenue officers and smugglers are sometimes about. A bit of free-trading traffic goes through here, which is common enough in the Highlands, and nothing to be concerned about. But do not go out alone at night.”
“I appreciate the warning.” Fiona turned away to stir another scoop of butter into the mashed turnips she and Mrs. MacIan had prepared for supper. The MacIans knew Patrick was an excise officer at the other end of the loch. Now the MacGregors knew too. She would need to say little about that now, and be wary for Patrick’s sake.
“Good, since she will stay with us for a little while,” Mrs. MacIan said.
The reverend looked puzzled. “She will be teaching at the school until summer.”
“Kinloch sent Hamish with that wreck of a carriage this morning to take her back to Auchnashee, where her kinsmen could send her back to Edinburgh.”
“Miss MacCarran, have you changed your mind?” MacIan asked.
“The Laird of Kinloch seems to think a teacher is not needed in the glen. We told Hamish MacGregor it was a misunderstanding,” Fionareplied.
The reverend frowned. “I shall speak to Kinloch.”
“It is already resolved,” she said, as she moved dishes to the table.
“Will you share supper with us?” Mary asked her grandson. “There are mashed turnips and mutton stew, very tender. Fiona prepared it herself, and it is quite good.”
He nodded and drew out the chairs for the women. When they were seated, they bowed their heads for the grace that Hugh MacIan murmured in a gentle voice that seemed more suited to sentimental love poems than insistent Biblical sermons. Fiona served the turnips and stew, and as they ate, she glanced at her new friends. She felt content in the cozy atmosphere, content to stay.
Mary’s front room combined parlor, dining room, and a narrow kitchen, and a wide hearth wall, furnished simply with cupboards, a wooden table, and a few comfortable chairs. At the back of the small house, two snug bedrooms curtained off from the larger room held a box bed in each. A side door led out to a small garden.
The walls were whitewashed and smoke stained, the old, dark rafter beams overhead were hung with dried herbs that added a light, clean fragrance, which combined with the sweet, musty smell of the peat fire made the modest house seem very cozy. The table was set with very fine things—crisp bleached linens, blue-and-white porcelain, good silver pieces. The few furnishings were of excellent quality with polished wood and velvet cushions, the lanterns were of very good metalwork, and the window curtains were Belgian lace. Aware of the history of smugglers in the area, Fiona wondered if they had brought Mary such nice things—and if her late husband had engaged in transporting goods himself.
Hugh smiled. “Miss MacCarran, I am glad to know you cleared the, ah, misunderstanding with the laird. You will surely see him at the glen school.”
“Oh? Will he be in class?” That puzzled her, as she had the impressionKinloch was an educated man. “You mentioned in your letter to the Ladies Society that there might be adult students in the school.”
“There could be, since some here do not have much English.” He smiled. “But Dougal MacGregor is hardly one of those. The schoolhouse is on his estate, and his young kinfolk will be in your class.”
“I see. He did not mention that.”
“He keeps to himself and says little. May I have more turnips? They are delicious.”
Fiona passed the dish to him, not surprised that Kinloch had not said much about the school. He had been too determined for her to leave and abandon her obligation to the school and its students.
Later that night, as she drifted to sleep curled up in the box bed, which was deep and snug, quaint and comfortable, she could not forget the feeling of Kinloch’s arms around her, and the sweet melding of their lips beneath the old plaid in the pony cart.
She knew why she had not protested when he kissed her, though he gave her the chance. She had been kissed before by suitors. But she had never known kisses could feel so tender, so loving, so perfect, so compelling. Swept away, she had wanted more.
Best forget that, she told herself. She must think only of her responsibilities. With her lessons prepared, she was ready to begin class. What she needed now was a good night’s sleep. But her thoughts raced. Punching the pillow, she settled again.
If she met the Laird of Kinloch at the glen school, she would have to be cautious. He knew too much about her. And she was far too eager to see him again.
Chapter Six
Standing in themorning sunlight in the yard of Kinloch House, Dougal watched the glen folk walking along hills and paths, coming from various directions toward the hill where his house—and the school—were perched. Kinloch House was tucked in the lee of the pine-covered slopes that formed this side of the glen’s bowl, and the school was a short walk across the shoulder of the same hill. Watching his tenants approach, he felt keyed and nervous, his normally calm and stoic heart thumping fast.
His glance strayed again to the place where the hills framing the glen parted, leading to the cove by the loch. Fiona MacCarran would be heading to the schoolhouse that morning too. Despite himself, he kept looking in that direction.
