Page 63 of A Rogue in Moonlight
“And if whisky is in the stream, it catches a spark.”
“Aye. But Neill MacDonald is young and inexperienced as yet. Something similar happened to me when I was near his age.” Dougal held up his left hand, splaying the fingers where a patch of small scars crisscrossed his palm. “I was lucky not to be blinded or killed outright.”
“Oh, Dougal!” She touched his hand, smoothed her fingers over his palm. The feeling plummeted through him. He drew back his handeven as she spoke. “That must have been painful. Neill is fortunate, then.”
“He is. If all goes well, the batch is proofed and sealed up in kegs to age. Sometimes it will be aged for years.” He waved to Neill, who raised a hand. “But accidents can happen when proofing a strong new whisky.”
“I wonder if he saw excise men coming, and poured it out into the stream.”
“That can happen too. He might have poured out the proof in haste to avoid being caught with too much of it. Stay here, if you please, Miss MacCarran. I will be back shortly.”Fiona, mo gràdh,he had said before, and nearly said more. Now he felt the need for caution. He stood too close to the edge, heart in hand, and must step back.
She coughed, setting a hand to her mouth against the smoke. He turned away.
As he approached Neill, the lad watched him, eyes wide in distress. Ash smeared his face, hair, shirt. The stream burned less fiercely here, sluicing past the charred hut, while thick smoke drifted on the breeze.
“I am so sorry, Kinloch,” Neill said. “I am so sorry!”
Dougal patted his shoulder. “We all know the risks, lad. I am only sorry that you lost your whisky stores, and glad no one was hurt.”
“I saw MacIntyre,” Neill explained. “I was proofing, and the spark caught, and the fire began. I poured the brew into the stream quick as I could, but it caught flame and spread through the water.”
“It is burning off now and will go out soon. Where did you see the gauger?”
“Coming from that direction.” He pointed south. “When I ran to get water for the fire, I saw the signals out in the hills. The washing was spread out on the hillsides between here and the south end of the glen. I had not seen them earlier.”
“Ah. The linens.” Dougal knew, as they all did, of the simple system long used in the glen to alert others that excise men were in thearea. Bedsheets would be spread hastily along the slopes as if drying and bleaching in the sun, a signal method that gaugers often overlooked. “How many customs men?”
“Three along the ridge of a far hill. Big Tam MacIntyre was with them. I could not mistake his size,” he added.
“They may be nearby. If they come this way, there is no evidence of a still, hey. Just a fire in a storage building. Barley and other grains. Understand?”
“Aye. And our good copper still was destroyed,” Neill said glumly. “Blew up. My father paid a good deal for that fine still and copper coil.”
“It can be rebuilt and a new coil purchased. For now, hide away any pieces that survived the fire.”
“Geordie has gone off to do that,” Neill said, referring to one of his brothers. “I am sorry, Kinloch.”
“I blew up my still when I was a lad. You will make more whisky.”
Neill laughed ruefully and peered past him. “Is that the schoolteacher? Pol and Mairi like her very much. They talk about lessons at supper. They have never been interested in schooling before.” He seemed relieved to talk about something else.
“Aye. She is a fine dominie for this glen.” Dougal glanced over his shoulder and beckoned to Fiona, who walked toward them.
“Da says he hopes this one will stay for a while,” Neill said. “He wants me to go to school too. But I am a man now, with no use for schooling.”
“Age makes no difference in education, lad. Take what learning you can get, and you will be a better man for it.” Neill nodded.
Fiona joined them, eyes red rimmed from the smoke. She held out her hand as Dougal introduced her to Neill. “I am sorry for your troubles,” she said.
The lad shrugged. “As the laird says, we will build another still and make more whisky, and soon have a new batch.”
“Good,” she said. Dougal cocked a brow and smiled a little.
“My uncles and I will stay and help clear the debris as soon as it cools enough,” he told Neill. “Miss MacCarran, the smoke is making you cough. You should go down the hill and home.”
“I am fine. Neill, you should rest. Come away from here, lad.” Fiona spoke calmly, touching the boy’s arm. Neill seemed to relax.
The woman had a serenity about her, Dougal thought appreciatively, and a quiet, capable air that could bring peace to others. He felt that influence himself, he realized. When he was with her he felt good, solid, focused. He had seen her quiet strength the night she had approached the excise men, and saw it again tonight when she had not flinched or crumbled amid chaos and disaster. He was glad she had come with him.
