Page 99 of A Rogue in Moonlight
They descended the hill together, and Dougal raised a hand to wave as he saw Fiona’s brother climbing the slope toward them, waving and hallooing.
Epilogue
Fiona read anotherrhyme aloud for her students, then listened as they recited it back to her—Gaelic to English, English to Gaelic. Hearing a commotion outside, she glanced at the window and saw people gathering there. It was yet morning, and lessons were hardly over, but she could hear the pleasant rumble of voices. Excusing herself, she went to the door and opened it.
Two dozen or more people stood in the yard, men and women and a few adolescents who worked the farms and herds rather than attended school. She saw Neill MacDonald and his father, along with Helen MacDonald, Annabel’s mother, as well as Mary MacIan and others. Many names she knew now, though some she did not.
“Good morning,” she said, heart thumping anxiously. She had no idea why so many would gather outside the schoolhouse now. She wondered, with a sudden ache, if they had come to bid her farewell. Her teaching agreement would end soon. “What can I do for you?”
Mary MacIan came toward her. The old woman had been saddened to learn of Hugh’s involvement with Lord Eldin, resulting in the cave collapse, and she had fair blistered her grandson with her opinion. Hugh had apologized profusely to her, and to Dougal and Fiona too. Since then, he had kept to his side of the glen and his kirk and parishioners. Few outside a small group knew the truth of what had happened that day. Dougal was willing to forgive Hugh, but his uncles had taken the poor reverend to task more than once. The fellow wasfair mortified, Fiona knew.
Just then, Dougal stepped out of the crowd to stand a little apart from Mary MacIan. Fiona’s heart bounded to see him, just as it did each time he was near. If a day went past when they did not meet, she missed him keenly. In that moment, their eyes met, and he was the only one she saw. The others all faded to mist.
She did not want to leave the glen, if that were why they gathered here. Perhaps it did not matter that the laird seemed fond of the teacher; perhaps they had decided she must go, being kin to Lord Eldin, the man who would have brought tourists and ruin to their beautiful glen. But Eldin had sailed for the Continent, and would not return for a long time, if ever, so her brother said.
Nearly a month had passed since the ba’ game and the cave collapse, and even longer had passed since she had spent a night at Kinloch House. Time went by too quickly while she taught daily and answered questions about everything from the cave collapse to geology, and took what chances she had to roam the hills looking for fossils and stones—and any sign of more gold to help the community of the glen. But the rest of what they had discovered that day in the birchwood remained a dear secret.
She knew Dougal had been occupied with the work of digging out the rubble-filled caves to rescue and relocate scores of whisky casks and kegs. Crossing paths with him on the meadow between Kinloch House and the school, or other paths in the glen, she learned that he had sold the promised amounts to merchants when the cutters arrived on another night. Just as agreed, he had met his part as distiller and seller. Smuggled or not, his honor and his word were of utmost importance, and she was glad to know he had met the quota he had promised, even if it involved some smuggling.
He had sold some of the whisky to Eldin for an exorbitant fee, meant for new hotel that soon would welcome tourists. Eldin, leaving for a holiday abroad and leaving his hotel in other hands, knew that hisreputation teetered on rumors of what had happened in the Kinloch caves. He had asked that his disgraceful behavior never be mentioned or gossiped about. Dougal and the MacCarrans had quietly agreed.
Her cousin might come back and try to make amends, Fiona knew, but she would never trust him again. Eldin was like a hawk, an untamed bird of prey, cooperative only so long as it was convenient, unpredictable otherwise, and prone to quick, vicious action if provoked.
Watching Dougal now, with the crowd clustered behind him, she waited, wondering. Her students came to the door behind her. Her heart fluttered—did they truly mean to send her on her way so soon? She had longed for an invitation to stay here forever. But she had not found a chance to answer Dougal’s question about marriage.
And to her disappointment, he had not asked again. Had he decided it was best she return to Edinburgh, while he returned to smuggling and a bachelor life? Or was he still waiting for her decision? She had not wanted to push the matter, glad that they had some time lately to come to know one another better. But had she been mistaken?
Now she walked through the dusty yard, brushing chalk dust from her hands, then clasping them. Her students followed her into the clearing. Silence and birdsong filled the summer air.
Mary MacIan murmured to Dougal, who leaned down to listen. He nodded.
“Fiona MacCarran, teacher in the glen,” Mary said in Gaelic, for some of those here, Fiona knew, did not have much English, “the glen folk want a word with you.”
She nodded, tightening her hands. “Aye, what is it?”
“We want to know if you will teach us,” Mary said.
She blinked in surprise. “Teach you?”
“Some of us want to learn to speak and read English,” Mary said. “Some must learn to talk to others outside our glen. Some must learn to sign our names. And some of these rascals may want to read their own arrest warrants.” A ripple of laughter sounded. “And so we wantto join your class.”
Stunned, Fiona glanced at Dougal, who nodded slowly.
“I would be honored to teach you,” she answered in Gaelic. Several of those gathered nodded, pleased, murmuring to one another. “But just now the schoolhouse is full, with twelve scholars and no more seats. And the roof leaks. It must be replaced soon or it will fall down on our heads. And—my teaching agreement will end soon. I will have to leave the glen.” She dared not glance at Dougal then.
“You could stay,” Mary MacIan said.
“You could, aye,” Dougal said mildly. Fiona flicked a glance toward him.
“Stay and teach?” Now her gaze was fastened to his.
He tipped his head. “If it is what you want.”
She nodded, afraid to speak for the catch in her breath.
Mary MacIan looked up at Dougal. Fiona noticed the others turning to look at him too, as if expectant. “What else would you like, Miss MacCarran?” Dougal asked.
“I want to stay in Glen Kinloch and teach,” she said, addressing only him.
