Page 69 of A Rogue in Moonlight
“The fellow can be cold and unpleasant to deal with, aye, though he has basic decency, I suppose. The money he offers could rescue the whole glen from the devastation that has plagued too many other regions.”
“Aye, it might be enough to buy back the deed, but even that is not enough to save Glen Kinloch in the future. I want a better guarantee. I want all the deeds back, signed in perpetuity to me and my heirs. That will take more than Eldin offers.”
“A fine dream, Kinloch. Do not let it go.”
“Just so,” Dougal said.
*
Fiona woke froma dream that felt so dear and intimate that she clung to it—the sense of Dougal’s arms around her, his hands on her like heaven, playing over her body like a harper caressing strings. The heat of it lingered as she woke and swiftly vanished as she moved. Sighing, seeing the room had gone dim, she reached to the table beside her, looking for flint and candle.
Hearing footsteps on the stone stair, she glanced up. Maisie entered, holding a glass in one hand and a lantern in the other.
“I brought you whisky and honey,” the girl said, setting the glasson a table. She set the lantern down, lit a candle, and turned. “Miss MacCarran, the laird asked me to stay with you, but my brother just arrived. He says our Da is doing poorly.”
“Oh dear,” Fiona said, sitting up as the girl spoke. “Was he hurt?”
“He was helping to fight the fire but was overtaken by smoke, like you. I want to go to him, but I promised Kinloch I would stay with you. Try the warmed whisky, do.”
“Thank you. But Maisie, you must go to your father.” Fiona picked up the glass to sip the concoction. The warm remedy slid down her throat with sudden, spreading heat that made her cough at first. Then she felt her chest begin to clear as her breathing opened.
“Helps the lungs and throat, see,” Maisie said approvingly. “My father needs it too, but my brother is a dimwit and may not think to make it for him. My mother is no longer with us, you see, so I do for both of them.”
“Please do not stay on my account, I am fine!” One of the dogs came through the open door, padding to her side to nudge at her hand. Fiona stroked the gray head. “I have Sorcha and Mhor to protect me.”
“Mhor here is a great coward,” Maisie said wryly. “Sorcha is the braver one. Fine then, if you feel better, I will leave. Your bath is filled and hot. I set a blanket over it to keep the heat until you are ready.”
“Thank you. I could use a bath.”
“Your room is ready, as you saw. I keep a clean house, though the laird and his uncles are a wretched lot to tidy after sometimes. The tub is in the kitchen, Miss. I would not drag buckets of hot water up those wicked steps for anyone, meaning no offense.”
Fiona smiled. “Is the kitchen private enough for a bath?”
“It is. They are all gone and away ’til morning, I think. So much to be done out there.” Maisie sighed. “Set the dogs outside the door to guard if you like. There’s soup and porridge in the kettles,” she went on. “I do not always cook an evening meal, and the lads are way to thefire tonight. They are often out on other nights making runs until dawn. But I thought tonight you might like something, and they can eat in the morning when they return—” She stopped, shrugged. “I will go, if you truly sure you are fine.”
“I am, thank you.” Fiona stood. If Dougal MacGregor and his kinsmen were making runs of a night, surely that meant smuggling. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
“I will stay with Da for a bit. I left some clean garments for you in your bedchamber.” At the door, she turned. “Miss, please stay inside tonight. It is always wise to stay inside when the moon is out, and the sky is light, and wise to stay inside when the laird is out as well.” She turned and left, footsteps light on the stairs.
Fiona looked down at Mhor, curled at her feet, resting his head on his paws. “What shall we do, sir? I wonder what your master is up in the evenings. Such secrecy,” she murmured. “I wish he trusted me better. I would not tell.”
The dog thumped his tail as if in agreement.
While she sipped the rest of the whisky, she picked up a book on the side table and read a bit little by candlelight. James MacPherson’sOssianwas a stirring but controversial collection of ancient Celtic tales; she remembered her brother William talking about it once. Though a pragmatic physician, William was fascinated by ancient myths and legends.
And she was intrigued to find the book and so many others in the keeping of a whisky smuggler who claimed little interest in such things.
Chapter Fourteen
After a warm,soothing bath while the dogs slept by the door, Fiona dried herself with a linen towel and then pulled on the things Maisie had left for her—a man’s large, loose shirt for a nightgown, and a long dressing gown of dark-red brocade. Her own things needed a good airing, still smelling strongly of smoke. But she was glad to have washed the cling of smoke from her hair and skin with the lavender soap Maisie had provided.
The brocade robe carried the scent of the man who had worn it before her, a drift of pine, spice, a hint of woodsmoke that reminded her of Dougal MacGregor. She drew it snug about her, comforted by the faint aroma. Rubbing her wet hair with the towel, she was reluctant to leave the bathwater for someone to empty in the morning, but she saw no bucket with which to do it herself.
After a quick meal of soup and porridge, she noticed that the simmering kettles had cooked down a bit. Aware that the MacGregors might be hungry when they returned later, she searched and found root vegetables, barley, and seasonings in the pantry, and took a little time to chop and add vegetables to the soup with a bit of water. As the kettle simmered anew, she noticed that the night sky through the window showed inky black now. The hour was quite late, but the bath and her brief nap earlier had revived her. Instead of going upstairs to sleep, she carried a candle to light the way to the small library as the deerhounds trailed behind her.
Exploring the shelves, she found a volume on natural physics and geological sciences, and settled down to look for information about ancient strata and fossils. Though she was not the dedicated geological scholar that her brother James was, the subject fascinated her. She was looking forward to another chance to walk the hills in search of more discoveries.
Besides, she reminded herself, walking about the hills was essential just now. Lady Struan’s will required that she make sketches of fairies for her grandmother’s book, which James had been asked to edit. Unsure how to supply such drawings, Fiona hoped that sketches of Highland hills, flora and fauna, would do. Without a doubt, the lady’s eccentric will was causing a kerfuffle for her grandchildren, but they would each find a way to meet its demands; there was no other choice.
