Page 83 of A Rogue in Moonlight
“They play over the whole glen?” Fiona asked, incredulous. “All of them?”
“Aye, from the fieldstone wall below Kinloch House, across the glen floor, and down near the lochside road, where the standing stones are.”
Fiona knew the place. “That’s about two miles.”
“Not far for this game.” Mary nodded as if it was nothing much.
Astonished, Fiona watched the players on the hillside. “And one ball?”
“Just the one. ’Tis sturdy leather stuffed with goose feathers, and hardly survives the day, let me tell you, with two enormous teams playing the length and breadth of the glen. It goes on all day and into the night, sometimes the next day.”
“Does the laird play too? His tower is in the middle. Which side does he take?”
“The previous lairds did not always play, but our Dougal does—no one could keep him out of it. He is strong and good at the ba’ and both sides want him. So each year he plays a different side. He will play for the North this year. The South has more players.”
“Are they not even, the two teams?”
“Oh no, it is decided by where a person is born. All but the Laird.”
As they crossed the glen and began to climb the slope toward Kinloch House and the school, Fiona saw the spaniel chasing back and forth, and the men and boys hooting and pushing. Somewhere in the middle of the pack she saw the ball thrust upward triumphantly, only to sink into the cluster of players again. “When will they play the game?”
“The laird called for it on the coming Thursday.”
“But the lads have school!”
“Oh, there will be no school that day. All the glen will either be playing the game or watching it. The laird did not tell you?”
“He did not.” Again Fiona felt that tiny, sharp pull of separation, and with it a tug of sadness and hurt. Despite feeling more accepted by the glen folk, she sighed, knowing she was still very much the outsider. Yet it felt more important to be included now.
“It sounds like good fun. I know you will have a wonderful time.” She forced a smile.
“You will be there, too,” Mary said. “We will go watch and cheer them on. We could not miss a game of the ba’!”
“I would like to see it. Thank you.”
“The laird will want you there, no doubt.Tcha,” Mary said. “Himself thinks very kindly of you, anyone can see it.”
Fiona slowed, staring at Mary in wonder, then hurried along.
*
In the dimblue light of dusk, Dougal stood on the steep hillside that tipped to the clouds above Kinloch House, bagpipes tucked under his arm. He lifted the chanter to coax out plaintive, haunting notes. Most of that day, he had wandered the hills, and earlier had noticed Fiona with Mary MacIan as the women crossed the glen toward Kinloch House. He had guessed that Mary might be bringing her rent, but he did not go to meet her. Some urge, perhaps the preservation of heart and hope, told him to keep distant from Fiona for a while yet. He needed to think.
And his heart needed to cool from its ember stage before he could be certain what he felt for her. The passion that had blazed between them was the sort that would burn steadily for a very long time. But he had to know for sure.
Lifting the chanter again, taking a breath that filled the rounded bag under his arm, he set his mouth to the reed and exhaled, long and steady. The sound grew, rising and lingering, echoing outward.
He played the tune, marshaling his breath, listening as it flowed across hills and glen, he realized that he wanted freedom—the sort of freedom that only love could bring to one’s life. A solid foundation of partnership and support that grew from a love that would last forever. He could find that with Fiona MacCarran.
Lovesick or not, he was a cautious man. He would wait, not yet ready to rush headlong. He took risks in smuggling more easily than in this matter of love and marriage. It needed to be just right for him, for her, and for the people of the glen too.
But his heart was sure and decided. The fairies had shown the way from the first. He realized that now. Fiona could see them. They had chosen her.
That was the best proof he could have.
Chapter Sixteen
“When we playthe ba’,” Dougal told Ranald and Fergus later that evening, while Hamish stood by the cave entrance, listening while he watched the hills, “we must work all the details carefully. We all know our parts.”
