Page 34 of A Rogue in Moonlight
“Class,” Fiona warned. She then asked the students to write their names on their slates. While she listened to the scrape of chalk on slate, she went to the window beside the door and peered through the glass. The pane was old, thick and hazy, but she could see the yard and beyond.
Near the stone tower of Kinloch House, the laird stood talking with Ranald and Hamish MacGregor. They were soon joined by Fergus as well. For a moment, she saw Dougal MacGregor glance toward the school, while Fergus gestured insistently. As if in answer, Kinloch folded his arms and shook his head.
“MacGregor of Kinloch,” she whispered to herself, “do not think to move me out of here. I mean to stay.”
*
“Have you hadnews from the Glasgow solicitor?” Ranald asked Dougal. Various tasks usually occupied his uncles in the mornings, so as they gathered around him now, Dougal knew they had something on their minds.
“Glasgow? No more than we have heard already,” he answered. “If we cannot produce the funds to buy back ten thousand acres of the old Drumcairn estate, the plot of land my father sold off, then the government can sell the deed. My father made that arrangement to save the glen. Now the payment has come due.”
“We must sell all the kegs we have and get the best price,” Hamish said.
“All of them, aye,” Ranald said.
“Not all,” Dougal said.
“The fairies will understand,” Ranald said.
Dougal laughed bitterly. “Not according to the legend.”
“You cannot bother with legends at a time like this,” Hamish barked.
“I respect the traditions of the glen, as its laird. And I respect the Fey.”
“Too much like his father,” Hamish grumbled, shaking his head.
Dougal looked toward the hills where John MacGregor had once taken him to reveal the secret of the fairies of Kinloch. “We can sell our store of Glen Kinloch brew, and keep the fairy brew for special gifts, as we have always done. The price we ask will be paid. The quality of our whisky speaks for itself.”
“Glen Kinloch malt whisky is without equal in the Highlands,” Fergus said, “but your fairy brew is legendary. Some will pay far more for that than even the best Highland whisky. They will want to try a legendary brew. And the glen needs the money.”
“Whisky is whisky,” Hamish pointed out pragmatically. “Sell it. Afairy legend means little when we know we must save this glen. The government would sell this land out from under us, and they have the right—most of the land in Scotland belongs to king and crown, and we only rent in those deeds. In perpetuity, if we are fortunate,” Hamish added. “But in this case, the government has full right to cancel that and sell the land. Forget the fairy ilk, lad!”
“The fairies do not concern me as much as the customs officers, if we are caught moving that much whisky to make a quick and large profit,” Dougal said. It was a wrenching decision to sell the whole of their stash of excellent whisky—it could be years before they had enough to sell for profit again. “If we are seen transporting more casks than usual, they will triple the number of gaugers in the area. We could lose our cache. I will not risk our best whisky. And I will not move the fairy whisky—the risk is too great.”
“True, it is worth a handsome sum. We must protect it for now,” Hamish said, deliberately misunderstanding what Dougal meant. “And if the teacher would leave the glen, we would be safer.”
“I cannot simply order the lass out of here.”
“You can,” Hamish said. “I like the lass well too, but you can.”
“Surely there is some way,” Fergus said.
“Frighten her off, as I have said,” Ranald suggested. “She will run like the last teacher did. A bit of a mouse, that one was. Easy to—” He stopped. The other two uncles glanced around, looking innocent.
Dougal narrowed his eyes. “What did you do to make that one leave quickly?”
“Why would we do such a thing?” Ranald asked mildly.
“Me, I never even spoke to her,” Fergus said.
“Tell me what you did,” Dougal growled. He had always suspected, seeing how fast the other teacher had packed and left, that one or more of his uncles had influenced her decision.
Hamish made a face. “The lady knew there were thieves in these hills, and she did not like Highlanders to start. Then Ranald warnedher about the wicked fairies who would steal her away as she slept. Just that.”
“Just that?” Dougal looked from one to the next.
“I might have walked around her cottage a bit at night. I might have whistled some,” Fergus said.
