Page 94 of A Rogue in Moonlight
“That is just a legend,” Hugh sputtered. “I tasted it myself. Nothing to it. Good but rather bland whisky. It lacks the quality of the aged casks. You do not want that stuff, Lord Eldin.”
“I do,” Eldin replied. “And I will pay any price for it.”
“It is a disappointing brew. You are making a mistake.”
“The fairy ilk themselves make that brew,” Eldin said.
“Not exactly,” Dougal said. “We make it. Hugh is correct. It is just a legend.”
“I doubt it!” Eldin snapped. “I have investigated the legends thoroughly. I have searched up and down the Highlands to find something indisputably part of the fairy realm. And Kinloch fairy brew is it.”
“You are truly mad to believe that.” Hugh gaped at him.
“Why do you care about the fairy brew?” Dougal asked.
“I am a collector of fairy lore and magical things,” Eldin said. “I have heard of the fairy brew, and I must have it. Sell me whatever you have. I offer you a high price, one you should accept. Sell me the recipe, and make even more profit. I am sure you only wish your loved ones to be safe, and would do anything for them. Anything.” He waved his small pistol toward Fiona.
“And if I will not sell?” Dougal growled.
“Then I can take all you have, the glen, the ones you love. Your life too if I must. Otherwise I can make sure you are jailed for smuggling. I will hold the rights to any brew produced in Glen Kinloch. And,” Eldin said, “you will not see any of these dear folk again.” He looked at Fiona and the children. Taking a backward step, he lifted his pistol to point it at Hugh, standing nearest him. “Or the good reverend either.”
“The fairy brew is just an ordinary whisky,” Dougal said. “Made from a family recipe. The legends are only stories told by the fireside.”
“I will soon know for myself. I am among the few who will recognize the difference once I taste it,” Eldin said. “When I have the rights to the glen and any goods produced in it, I will have the exclusive privilege of the water source used to make whisky here.”
“No one can claim full rights to water that flows from one glen to another. Nick, truly, this is madness,” Patrick said.
“Madness to one man is genius to another,” Eldin responded.
“Even you cannot bring this about, cousin,” Patrick said.
“Others are coming. Excise men quite like my money, I have found.”
“Water source?” Fiona asked. “Does that matter?”
“Aye, the water quality is essential to the quality of the whisky,” Dougal said.
“True, and there is a certain spring in the hills of Glen Kinloch that supplies water for Kinloch whisky,” Eldin said. “I have pieced that much together from asking around, and learning about the local legends. The lairds of Kinloch will not reveal it, but others know something of the traditions. I want the rights to that spring, and I want to know exactly where it is.”
“It is protected,” Dougal said.
“Cooperate, and all will go well. You can have the rest of the glen if you will accept my money. You will be a rich man. Fiona would like that, would you not, cousin?” He smirked, glancing toward her. “She is desperate to find a wealthy Highland man.”
“I have found the one I want,” she said quietly, her gaze meeting Dougal’s.
“A penniless Highland laird? Go ahead,” Eldin said. “Break the conditions of the will, and the bulk of Lady Struan’s accounts will come to me. I can only benefit.”
“The laird of Kinloch has more wealth than you can ever imagine or appreciate,” she said. “The wealth of a good heart, and the good fortune of loyalty, respect—and love.” She looked at Dougal, her eyeswide and sheened with tears.
He caught her gaze, held it, felt his heart open wide, full to the brim. But he glanced away, fingers flexing on the hidden pistol. He must not allow distraction now.
“Sentimental nonsense,” Eldin answered. “What have you done to the girl, Kinloch? She was a sensible lass until she came up here. I offer you a good bargain, sir. I advise you to accept, or all will go to hell in this glen.”
“I do not accept,” Dougal said. “You know that.”
“Listen, fool! It is not difficult!” Eldin waved the pistol. “Just give over the fairy whisky you hold now, with the rights to the spring and the recipe to produce it. Do that, and Fiona and the children go free. I will pay handsomely, as I said.”
“Do you truly expect to get out of this cave alive?” Dougal asked.
