Page 92 of A Rogue in Moonlight
“Get in there, all of you,” Eldin growled, pushing the girls into asmall cave. He took Fiona by the upper arm and shoved her in with them. She saw Jamie run for the entrance, but the reverend lunged for him with long strides, snatching him up and shoving them into the crevice with Fiona and the girls.
Then Eldin moved into the shadows to pull an iron grate across the entrance, securing it.
A cage—but not intended as a jail, Fiona realized. The space was nearly full of kegs. The bars secured the cargo from thieves. But it could serve as a jail—and did now.
“Let us out!” Fiona cried, pulling on the rusted bars. The little cave was low enough that she could not stand upright, and had to kneel. She reached out to keep the children behind her, but Jamie and Lucy stepped forward, pulling on the bars beside her. Annabel stayed behind, whimpering. “They are only children—you must let them go. I will stay. What do you want?”
“You are insurance, Cousin Fiona,” Eldin growled.
“Aye? Insurance against what?”
The newcomer spoke casually, his deep voice echoing. Footsteps grated over stone as two men approached from the entrance slope. Golden light bloomed along the stone passage as Fiona looked up.
Dougal walked toward them, his face a fiery glow in lantern light. Behind him came Patrick holding two pistols that he aimed at Eldin and MacIan.
Chapter Eighteen
“Eldin—and Hugh too,”Dougal said. “I should have suspected sooner than this.”
In the flickering light, he and Patrick stood wary and watchful. Behind Eldin and MacIan, he saw Fiona and the children trapped behind the iron grate that had only guarded good whisky. Now it guarded those who had his very heart. His glance flickered to meet Fiona’s, then away. He could not allow anger or his fear for her and the bairns to weaken him. He fisted a hand, and merely tilted his head. “So. What is this about?”
“Kinloch,” Eldin said smoothly. “And Cousin Patrick. Are you here for Fiona or the whisky?”
“Both,” Dougal said.
“I saw my sister across the meadow,” Patrick said. “I thought it odd that she was walking toward the loch with the children and with you, Reverend. So I found Kinloch and we came along.”
“It did seem odd,” Dougal agreed.
Fiona watched him, silent and pale as she knelt holding the children close. She was beautiful, the strength of her will shining in her, and he felt as if his heart turned in his very chest to see her in danger. The urge to protect them was raw and powerful. He wanted to tear open the iron bars, hurl Eldin and the reverend against the rock and into that prison, and do worse than that. He only clenched his fist, flared his nostrils, waited.
“Explain,” he said.
But he suspected what this was about. Eldin wanted the whisky Dougal had refused him earlier. Hugh’s involvement was puzzling. For now, Dougal was glad that Patrick MacCarran stood at his shoulder, a stalwart comrade, his hands steady on two pistols. The lad had backbone and heart. So did his sister.
“The other customs men are coming,” Patrick said.
Dougal waited for an answer from the two who faced them. He knew the excise men were still in the glen and so they were on their own here, at least for now.
“Is the ba’ game over? Who won?” Jamie asked suddenly.
“Southies,” Patrick said.
“They had more players.” Jamie nodded wisely.
“Be quiet, boy,” Eldin barked.
“Eldin,” Dougal said, “why take bairns and a woman? You are just proving your cowardice. Or do you have another purpose?” He stepped closer, easing his hand to the butt of the pistol hidden under the drape of his plaid.
With a quick move, Eldin produced a pistol of his own, drawn from inside his coat. He cocked the thing. At its echo, Fiona jumped, and the children shrieked. “Stand where you are, Kinloch,” the earl snapped. “Patrick too. Move, and regret it.”
“Cousin Nick,” Patrick said quietly. “What is it you want?”
“Kinloch knows,” Eldin said.
“I doubt all this kerfuffle is for my excellent twelve-year whisky,” Dougal said.
“True,” Eldin confirmed. “I want the other sort.”
