Page 9 of A Rogue in Moonlight
“Give me that bag,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. He took the knapsack off her shoulder and hoisted it to his own, its contents clunking. “What in the name of the devil is in here?”
“Rocks.”
“From my glen?”
“I will put them back if it troubles you.”
“Keep them. We have plenty of rocks. If it is gold or treasure you search for, there is none of that here. We would all be wealthy in this glen if so.”
“I am not looking for gold. I am a fossilist.”
“A what?”
“An amateur fossilist. I find and study rocks for imprints of ancient life forms.”
“Rocks,” he muttered, pulling along. “Come this way. It is a shorter distance to the road. Is there a carriage waiting to take you toAuchnashee?”
“Auchnashee? No.” The man had the manners of a beast, she thought. “You claim to own this glen, Mr. MacGregor. Are you an earl or a viscount, to have so much land?”
“I do not own it outright. In Scotland, most of the land is owned by the Crown and deeded back to the Scots. I hold the heritable rights to Glen Kinloch. But I have no fancy title if you are looking for such, being a Lowland lady.”
“I am not looking for that at all. You are hurting me.” She pulled against his grip. “How do you know I am Lowland?”
“Speech and manners,” he said. “And you seem like a fine lady. Your father must be someone of note.”
“My father and mother died when I was small. My grandfather was a Highland viscount, a title that went to my brother. Why do you care? We are not a family of note.”
“It is enough, and your family is fortunate.”
“I suppose we are,” she admitted.
He looked at her keenly, head tilted. His irises were a clear hazel green, framed in thick lashes and straight black brows; striking, beautiful eyes for a man, especially a brusque and roguish one, she thought.
“An orphan, hey? My parents died when I was a lad. You have my sympathies.”
“Thank you,” she said, somewhat surprised, still stumbling along beside him.
“My father left me a lairdship with a house and some land. I am a farmer, like most of my tenants. Kinloch is a small glen far from anywhere. Earls and such—none of that sort would come out here. Rocks, hey?” He tilted at brow.
“Many appreciate the beauty of the Highlands. I know an earl who has purchased a hotel at Auchnashee.” She did not add that Lord Eldin was her cousin.
“I know of him. He is one of those who buy up Scottish land to create shooting lodges and sheep runs, wanting to attract tourists who ride through to stare at our hills and homes. None of them belong here, and I will not sell my lands, so if you are exploring to tell your friend the earl about this glen so he can press me to sell, do not. Come ahead. Hurry.”
“I do not intend to spy on your lands. Why the rush? Is someone after you?” She glanced back.
“Bogles, ghosts, and the Fey,” he drawled. “Or perhaps smugglers.”
“Your ilk, sir?” She dug in her heels, forcing him to stop. “Enough! Give me my things and I will go and trouble you no more.” She pulled back, but he held her arm. “If there are rogues about, I suspect you are one of them.”
“If I were, would I say? I would not. Do not fear. I mean only to warn you to leave this place for your safety. People, especially tourists, should not venture through my glen without reason.”
“Why are you here, if it is not safe?”
“I have the right of it. And I keep others, like you, off my lands.”
“I am not a tourist. I am searching for fossils, looking for the imprint of ancient flora and fauna left in masses of rock. They provide a geological record of Earth.”
“Find your fossils elsewhere in Scotland. Not here, not now. Come.”
