Page 89 of A Rogue in Moonlight
“Smuggling,” Lucy said blithely.
“What?” Fiona asked.
The child held out a little posy of flowers to her. “Here. I heard theuncles say they would go trading tonight when it was all dark. They will meet a great ship from France, I think they said. It is coming up the loch to take the whisky and will pay good coin. We will be rich!”
“A cutter, not a ship,” Jamie said. “Only fast boats make the whisky runs.”
“Is it so?” Fiona asked mildly. “Only fast boats on the loch?”
“Aye, they sail up the loch and then down, and then they move the whisky to a bigger ship and go all the way down the River Clyde to the sea,” Jamie said. “My grandfather took me to see a cutter coming up the loch once and told me how the whisky runs go over the water.”
Fiona had seen a cutter as well, she remembered, when she had first come to the glen. Frowning, she glanced toward the ongoing game. A great clog of men gathered in the meadow, while spectators stood watching. The tenacity of the glen players was remarkable, she thought—Mary MacIan had said these sorts of games could go on for days, even as much as a week. Men came and went in shifts, taking a little time to eat and rest before joining the ruckus again.
Women, being sensible creatures, so Mary had said, watched for a while and then returned to their work and their homes and children. Now and then a woman might dive into the throng too, welcome to play and giving as good as she got.
“Not me,” Mary laughed, “but I have seen some do so over the years of this mad glen game. I expect when Lucy grows up,” she had said, “she might join the fray.”
Laughing at the thought, Fiona felt a fleeting temptation to join the fun herself. But the urge quickly turned practical as she watched the rough game continue. Looking around, she noticed something far off in the glen, away from the commotion in the center.
A few men walked across the moorland away from the great cluster of players and spectators. One of the men captured her attention. She knew the set of those shoulders, that rhythmic walk, the dark-sheened hair. Her heart thumped quick and fast. Had Dougal seen heron the slope with the children—was he coming up to meet them?
But he was heading away from the game, away from the meadow toward the loch. And he was with two of his uncles. She could see that now.
Smuggling, Lucy had said. The raucous game provided a perfect distraction, Fiona realized. Dougal had arranged the game today, which was being held earlier than usual. Did he intend the distraction to cover a night of smuggling and a rush to meet a boat?
Hearing a shout and Lucy’s quick answer, she saw Hugh MacIan climbing the hill toward them. The reverend waved, smiled, and as the children ran toward him, he stooped to admire their collections of stones and flowers. Then he joined Fiona on the slope, standing beside her as they watched the riotous game down in the glen.
“The Southies look to win,” he said. “They are pushing the game toward the loch and have the advantage just now. Shall we walk that way with the wee ones?”
Crowing with delight, Jamie and the children began to race along the shoulder of the hill, while Fiona called after them to slow down and come closer. Gathering up her bag with the little hammer and tools, she walked beside Hugh MacIan.
“Will the game end soon, then?” she asked. “It is coming on twilight.”
“Some light will linger this time of year. And they will play regardless of the time until there is resolution. I see we have attracted some outsiders.” He gestured toward the road.
“Customs officers!” She noticed the men on horseback, and a few on foot, and saw the weapons they carried.
“Aye, your brother included. I had the chance to speak with them before I came over to you. He promised to meet us down by the loch. Lord Eldin is here too. He heard about the game. Dougal MacGregor best be careful,” he added low.
Fiona sent him a quick, concerned glance. “What do you mean?”
“The cutter,” Hugh said. “He arranged to meet a boat on the loch tonight. Did he not tell you? I rather thought he might have confided in you, since he seems keen to court you.”
“Does he?” she asked casually, though her heart took up a tripping beat.
“It seems so. In fact, I was sent to find you and bring you to the laird and your brother. I thought you might welcome that news.”
“Kinloch asked you to find me?” She frowned. “Has he been hurt in the game?” She could not think of any other reason that Dougal might send Hugh to fetch her, but his uncles were clearly busy. She felt a little frisson of hope that Dougal had thought of her even in the midst of the fray.
“He is fine. He just wants to see you, I think, and Lucy as well. He is too tired and too involved to come up here for you himself. I offered to take you down to meet him.”
“Of course.”
“But do be warned,” Hugh said, “he may have a dangerous thing planned. I am worried, I will tell you.”
Danger? She felt a chill run down her spine. She had only hoped that Dougal sent for her to be near him, perhaps to talk to her when he had the chance, just as she longed to talk to him, explain as honestly as she could and convince him to listen.
But perhaps he sent for them to protect them if smuggling was going forward tonight. She felt a small twist in her gut, a warning knell. Risk, danger. Fear.
