Page 53 of A Rogue in Moonlight
“Is it so?” Eldin looked doubtful.
“None of this is your concern.”
“She is my cousin.”
“Then treat her with respect.”
Eldin gave a flat smile. “Should we bargain further for your best whisky?”
“I may not sell it to you after all.”
“No?” The earl leaned toward him. “How much do you want for the Kinloch twelve-year, all seven casks?”
“More than you can pay. Priceless, now.” He was growing furious.
“I wonder if you have an even more priceless brew tucked away.”
“Our whisky is rare and valuable.”
“There is a legend of another sort of whisky. An ancient brew whose recipe was given to the MacGregors by the fairies themselves.”
Dougal huffed. “Legends do not produce profitable whisky.”
“They say the lairds of Kinloch have always produced this secret brew.”
“I am not aware of it, if so,” he drawled.
“If you have a brew of that sort, I am willing to pay whatever you ask.”
Dougal shook his head in silence.
“Very well. Think on it, Kinloch.” Eldin stood then, lifting his hat and snatching his cane. Inclining his head, he opened his gloved handand deposited several coins on the table, including the glint of gold sovereigns and silver shillings, far more than was needed to pay for the drinks. The man left the inn quickly, shutting the door behind him.
Rob came to the table. “He wanted no supper? We have a fine roast ready.”
“No supper,” Dougal said, standing. Through the window, he saw the earl’s barouche leaving the yard. “Serve the roast to all with the earl’s compliments,” he said, indicating the coins.
Glancing out the window again, Dougal frowned. What had Lord Eldin heard about fairy whisky—and why did he want it?
And what had he meant by those sly remarks about Fiona MacCarran?
The earl’s warning had a different effect than intended. Dougal was even more interested, curiosity piqued, sympathy roused. Miss MacCarran had a devil for a cousin. A scheme to marry wealth, particularly in the Highlands? He almost laughed. If she wanted that, then she would be scheming to marry that blasted cousin of hers.
But if she should ever decide that a poor, plain, solid Highland laird was to her liking, there was one willing and waiting.
That thought, clear and certain, was more revelation to him than anything Eldin had said.
*
The next afternoon,as the door to the schoolhouse opened and the students exited into the sunshine, Dougal walked toward the school. He came from an adjacent glen slope, where a distillery was hidden in a thicket of evergreen trees. Fergus had started a new batch of whisky there, and Hamish’s sons, Will and John, were testing the proof on a previous batch. Dougal had stayed to help until the angle of the sun reminded him that he wanted to get to the schoolhouse before lessons ended.
Walking there now, he saw the door open and children emerging. He waited, folding his arms, watching for her.
For days, he had wanted a private word with Fiona MacCarran, but he had let other matters interfere. Even the day before, he had not taken much time to speak to her. He did not feel ready, somehow, he needed his distance.
Besides, other matters needed his attention. The barley laid down to germinate for a new batch of brew required shoveling and turning. Then he had ridden down to Loch Lomond to meet with English clients interested in Kinloch whisky. That visit was worth a stay at an inn—their offer gave Lord Eldin’s proposal some competition.
Upon his return to the glen, Ranald and Fergus told him of their attempt to convince the new dominie that the roof was bad and she should suspend school sessions. Dougal knew he must speak with her about that and other matters.
