Page 10 of A Rogue in Moonlight
Tugged by his strength, hurrying in his wake, Fiona concentrated on her footsteps on the rugged terrain. Drifts of mist obscured the way as they walked on.
MacGregor stopped short, fingers tightening on her wrist. Fiona stopped too. Hearing the clop of horse hooves and the rattle of a cart, she looked through the fog, trying to determine the direction of the sound.
“Is that a pony cart?” she asked.
“Aye, coming along the drover’s track that runs to the road and the loch. This way.” He pulled her along. Her booted toe hit a rock, and she stumbled.
MacGregor caught her around the waist, and she leaned against him, off balance. He felt so solid and sure that for a moment she stayed close, breathing hard. Then she straightened away. Once more, he drew with him over hillocks and stones.
Then he stopped quickly. Fiona bumped into his back. He put out a hand to keep her from tilting on the incline.
“Hush.” He looked around warily as his hand found her wrist. Sensing tension in the air, she stepped close to him, blinded in the deep fog on this part of the hill.
To the left, she heard the rumble of the cart, which came into view—a boxy wagon stacked with hay, pulled by a sturdy brown horse. Two men sat on the crossbench, one in a wrapped plaid, one in trousers, both in dark jackets and dark, flat bonnets. The driver in plaid was a lean young man, his passenger robust and older.
“Smugglers with a load of illicit spirits?” she asked softly.
“Farmers going home to supper,” he murmured. “But hold.”
“I hear that smugglers go about quite openly. And it is getting dark.” She glanced at the fading light through the fog, wishing she had gone with Patrick after all. “Are they dangerous?”
He huffed. “They are my kinsmen. Not dangerous to me, or you. But those other fellows might be.”
Now he was looking in the opposite direction. Fiona glanced there to see two men on foot emerging from the fog down by the loch road. They wore dark jackets, trousers, and brimmed hats. One had a pistol, the other a cudgel, she saw clearly as they moved.
“Smugglers!” she whispered, unconsciously edging closer to MacGregor. He exuded reliable strength; strangely, she felt safe near him, whoever he was.
“The two on the road? Gaugers.”
“Revenue officers? Then we have nothing to worry about.”
“Oh, not a thing,” he drawled. Taking her arm in a fresh grip, he led her down the slope. Between the farmers approaching from one direction and the king’s officers coming from the other, Fiona angled her steps toward the officers. They would know her brother and escort her to safety.
But MacGregor tugged her toward the cart. He gave a low whistle and half dragged Fiona with him, avoiding the gaugers.
With a sinking feeling, she knew then that the laird of Kinloch was not simply the farmer and landowner he claimed. He was the very smuggler that Patrick and Mrs. MacIan had warned her about.
When the Laird walks the mountainside, Mrs. MacIan had said, step aside.
Chapter Three
Dougal stopped short,the lass bumped into his shoulder, and he set his hand firmly on her arm. He did not intend to let her go. Not yet.
Narrowing his eyes, he estimated the revenue men to be a half mile or so away along the loch road. From the slope’s angle, they were clear enough, though distant. The drifting mist and the rocky angle of the slope would hide him and the girl for a bit. Nor would the man have seen the cart yet, though they might hear its creaking progress.
Taking the lass with him, Dougal ran down toward the approaching cart.
“Let go,” the girl said. “The officers will take me to Mrs. MacIan’s home.”
“Mrs. MacIan? Is that where you belong?” Was she the teacher? That was different, then. “I will take you myself. You would not be safe with the gaugers.”
“I am hardly safe with you,” she pointed out.
He gave a low whistle, a soft trill like a curlew’s call. The squeak of wheels slowed, for the driver knew the signal. Dougal hurried down the slope, towing the lass along.
“I do not need a ride, I can walk—”
“Hush,” Dougal said, hurrying with her, hoping the curve along the base of the road would hide them from the gaugers.
