Page 32 of A Rogue in Moonlight
As they made their rounds through the small crowd clustered in front of the schoolhouse, Miss MacCarran glanced up at Dougal. “So boys and girls are together in this school? Genders are often separated in other glen schools, with classes on alternating days or scheduled for mornings and afternoons.”
“We have so few students just now that Reverend MacIan thought it best to combine them in one class. It is not easy for them to find time for lessons, as they have chores at home. Many are kin, and used to being together.” Seeing Lucy standing nearby with Jamie, Dougal beckoned her to come forward.
“And who is this?” Miss MacCarran smiled down at her.
“My niece, Lucy MacGregor. Lucy, this is your new teacher.”
Lucy looked up at Miss MacCarran very sweetly, brown eyes sparkling, dark hair gleaming after a good brushing. He was pleased, and a bit relieved, to see that she had decided to comply nicely.
“Good morning, Miss MacCarran. Welcome to Glen Kinloch,” Lucy said in English.
“Thank you, Lucy. Your English is very good.”
“Aye, it is. So I do not need to go to school. I can speak Gaelic and English, and I can read a little. Uncle Dougal taught me.”
“She is a quick study,” Dougal explained, as Fiona MacCarran looked at him in surprise. “Away with you, lass—go inside with the others. A little reading is a fine thing, but you need schooling.” Lucy scowled at him and then ran toward the schoolhouse.
“I expected more students this morning,” Miss MacCarran said,looking about.
“Some families will wait to see what the others say. They must be sure the lessons are worth the time the children are away from their chores. They might also wonder if you will stay. Previous dominies have not remained here for long.”
“I will stay. I gave my word.”
He nodded, silent, impressed by her steadiness. She was stubborn, this Lowland lass, but he was too. And he was still convinced that sending her away was in everyone’s best interest, even if it proved difficult to accomplish.
“All Highlanders should learn to read and write in English and in Gaelic,” she was saying. “I am glad that you have been tutoring your niece, and it is good to know you encourage your tenants to obtain an education.”
“For all my sins, I do,” he answered quietly.
She looked at him as if puzzled and intrigued, and once again Dougal felt an undeniable pull toward her. Despite common sense—the need to send her away—he was beginning to feel protective of the new teacher. He wanted to know more about her—wanted her to thrive here. Wanted her to stay.
He stepped forward to hold the door open as she entered the schoolroom, and her shoulder brushed his chest. The clean, womanly scent of her was enticing.
“I confess, sir, I am nervous,” she whispered. “Would you come in for a bit?”
Nodding, he followed her inside.
*
Fiona set herpacket of papers on the sturdy battered table that served as the teacher’s desk, complete with a stiff, high stool. Standing at the front of the room, she folded her hands and tried to appear calm.While the students settled on long benches, she waited. She had taught in a few schools before this, but already she could see that this group—mixed ages, mixed genders, and a mix of interest in learning—might prove challenging. But suddenly she felt more distracted by the tall Highlander standing by the door than nervous about the class.
Kinloch leaned a broad shoulder against the doorjamb. Sunlight from the window spilled over his powerful torso and long limbs, haloing his dark hair, and brightening the tones of moss, earth, and cranberry in his tartan plaid. He was like sunlight and rock, warm, earthy, and handsome. She drew a breath, and a sense of calm from his solidity as well. He might be a dangerous sort, but there was something reliable and secure about this quiet laird.
She smiled at the class. The students, from small Lucy and Jamie to lanky Andrew and Pol to the older girls, sat on the plain benches looking awkward, expectant, a bit nervous as well.
“Good morning,” she said in Gaelic. They murmured the same. Soon enough she planned to speak most often in English, requiring them to use that language so they could learn it naturally. “And good morning to MacGregor of Kinloch as well.”
Again the children, big to small, murmured in unison. Lucy squirmed in her seat and waved to her uncle. He came to the front of the room.
“Good morning. Miss MacCarran is your teacher now,” he said in Gaelic, “and will be in charge here. Remember the rules of the schoolroom. We do not want Miss MacCarran to think we are all savages, eh?” Some of the children giggled.
“Obey your teacher,” he explained, and Fiona recognized the rules so often recited in Highland schools. “Do not run inside, or in the yard. And what else?”
“Neither shout nor stare at others,” Jamie said, raising a hand, “nor quarrel while you are here.”
“And?” Kinloch asked.
“Bow or curtsey when we enter and go quietly to our seats,” Lilias said.
