Page 98 of A Rogue in Moonlight
“Where do you keep the fairy brew?” Eldin asked. “Is it ruined now?”
“That lot is stored elsewhere,” Dougal answered. “But I will not sell it. Patrick, stay with Hugh and Eldin. I will go look for Fiona and the bairns.”
He hurried through the gap between two hills, following upward along the ridge of the glen. Feeling as weary and as anxious as he had ever felt in his life, somehow his legs found the strength and his heart found the will. He could not rest until he found Fiona and the children safe.
Yet he felt heartened that Eldin, albeit a scoundrel, sensed the lass was unharmed. Dougal wished he felt so sure himself. He only knew his heart slammed with worry and exhaustion, only knew he must find her, and Lucy, Jamie, and Annabel.
Hearing shouts behind him, he turned to see men on horseback coming along the loch road. Patrick and the others, standing on the hillside above the loch, waved and waited as the riders went towardthem.
Recognizing Tam MacIntyre with a few gaugers, Dougal gave a grim nod and continued on his way. So the law had found them—and soon would discover that the men of Glen Kinloch had done nothing amiss following the wild ball game. But they had been caught in a rock collapse caused by Lord Eldin’s pistol shot as he tried to demand a fairy whisky that only went by that name, an ordinary brew attached to a legend.
He was sure that Patrick MacCarran would keep the focus on Eldin and away from any smuggling in the glen. As for Hugh MacIan, the reverend was not a bad fellow by nature, just grievously misled by the earl. Dougal guessed Hugh would feel remorseful. And Mary MacIan would not let her grandson hear the end of it anytime soon.
Dougal walked onward. He would find them soon—he had to. Following that, he hoped that Patrick would be his brother-by-law, nor could he ask for a more trustworthy fellow. He hoped the rest of Fiona’s brothers would accept him—a poor Highland laird, wealthy only in his heart. And indeed fortunate in that, if Fiona would agree to marry him. For now, all he wanted was to see her safe and unharmed and tucked in his arms.
With a fresh burst of strength, he climbed, breathing hard as he went up the steep slope. He moved steadily, as if he had not played to utter exhaustion in the glen’s wild ball game, then somehow escaped a cave-in and averted a disaster of worse events. He ran now as if his life, and those he loved, depended on his muscle and will.
If Fiona had found the way out of the caves, as he suspected she might, then she would have emerged nearby, along a path hidden in a grove of birch trees. Reaching the crest of that hill and the meadowland edging the birchwood, he stopped to look around, seeing the thick cluster of birches with their roots deep in a frothy skirt of bluebells.
“Fiona!” he shouted. No answer. “Fiona! Lucy!”
Spinning again, he saw them coming out of the birchwood, wading through the blue-violet haze of flowers. Fiona held hands with Lucy and Annabel, Jamie following. Rosy golden sunset light poured its gleam over them. They were drenched, Dougal saw then, hair and skirts and jackets wet. The bubbling spring, he realized. They were laughing, the girls skipping. Lucy and Annabel clutched bouquets of bluebells, and Jamie chattered excitedly, holding a chunk of rock for Fiona to see.
Bluebells.They had found the bluebell wood. Fiona had discovered the very tunnel that led to the spring, just as he had hoped. The fairies, he felt sure now, had watched over his loved ones, guiding them to safety.
Laughing outright with relief and a burst of love, he ran toward them. Fiona’s smile brightened to see him, and she left the children to hurry toward him. Reaching out, he took her in his arms, lifted her, spun her about. She circled her arms around his neck, laughing in sweet relief too, her cheek soft, his prickly with a day’s beard. Around them, the children danced and jumped, giggling.
He set her down then and kissed her, tasting heaven on her lips in a slow, gentle kiss that he never wanted to end.
“Stop kissing!” Lucy said. “Come look what we found, Uncle Dougal!”
Fiona laughed, her lips to his, and he chuckled too, knowing she was as thrilled to see him, as thrilled and committed to their love, as he was. He kissed her brow, her damp, dark, beautiful hair. Then he winked at Lucy.
“My wee lass,” he murmured, touching his niece’s hair. “I feel a rich man, indeed.”
“So rich, Uncle Dougal!” Lucy held up the bluebells clutched in her hand. “We found these, and the pool and fairy fountain. And we found gold too!”
“Gold?” He saw all of them nod.
“Aye, in the caves,” Jamie said. “Lots of it!”
“Gold in the caves?” He was astonished.
Fiona smiled. “There is granite under the earth over there, veined with gold. Even if you never tap all of it, you can count yourself very fortunate.”
“I am fortunate already, to have all of you.” He swept his arms wide to encompass all of them, ruffled the children’s heads, and then kissed Fiona again. The bairns whooped around them in a circle.
“Enough! We need supper,” Lucy said, “and baths!”
“That, my wee lass, can be arranged. Come this way.” Dougal shepherded them along, snugging his arm around Fiona as they walked.
“I am hungry! But who will make supper?” Lucy asked. “Uncle Fergus is a terrible cook, and Maisie might be at her Da’s house.”
“I can make supper,” Fiona said.
“We would be most grateful,” Dougal said. “Will you stay in the glen, my love?”
She smiled up at him. “I might.”
