Page 42 of Laird of Secrets
Dougal grinned, crossing his arms. Fergus wobbled, just then, grabbing hold of his horse’s bridle for good effect. One of his cronies leaned over and retched loudly.
“I will check the damn panniers myself,” Tam said, and began to dismount.
“Take my word, sir,” Patrick said. “It would look better on the report for both of us. I hope you agree that I do my utmost to be thorough and follow orders, sir.”
“So far,” Tam sneered. “But you are an idiot if you think those sneakbaits are not transporting peat reek tonight. Dig deeper into those baskets. Look in the kegs.”
“I took these.” The young officer handed Tam two bottles that he had tucked under his arm—full bottles of Glen Kinloch’s finest. Dougal had not even noticed they had been snatched from the load. Well done, lad, he thought. Bribing his own superior officer, when the fellow did not even realize it, was nothing short of impressive. “Perhaps you will have a use for it,” MacCarran said.
“Hah! But I will look for myself. What the devil—” He glanced past the group at the road. Patrick MacCarran turned, and his mouth dropped open.
Dougal turned, too, and swore under his breath.
A woman walked toward them along the road, leading a dog on a rope. The dark plaid draped over her head covered most of her, but for her skirt hiked high over bare feet. The dog trotted obediently beside her as she neared the men clustered on the road. She kept her head down.
She looked like any Highland housewife, but Dougal recognized Fiona immediately, with Maggie, who too often chased the men through the hills, loving the sport of their nighttime runs. Fiona had not gone home as he had advised her. He began to step forward, but Fergus put up a hand to stop him.
Instead, Patrick MacCarran walked toward the woman, speaking quietly to her for a few moments. She spoke to him softly, then shook her head and passed by him, approaching Dougal, the dog trotting beside her.
“Ah, Kinloch, is it you?” she asked in a clear voice, in good Gaelic.
“You know damn well it is,” he growled in that language, satisfied that MacIntyre, at least, could not understand the words. Maggie bounded around his legs, pleading for the petting he refused her, focusing on the lass. He did not know whether to feel furious, or relieved, or both. “What do you think you are doing?”
“Speaking English? I try,” she said. “Are you bringing the barley for the soup?”
“We are,” he replied, scowling.
“Tapadh leat,”she said, “thank you. My grandmother will be pleased. We have so little. The laird is a blessing in this glen, aye. I am bringing my little dog to the house now.Oidhche mhath,goodnight, sirs.” She walked away, the dog pulling hard on the leash.
Standing by in silence, Dougal felt his heart nearly leap into his throat when MacIntyre looked down at Fiona MacCarran.
“Miss,” the officer said in a snide growl. “What is your name?”
“Fionnuala. Good evening, sir,” she went on in English, “a thousand wishes for your health and happiness.”
Dougal lifted a brow as the girl murmured the traditional greeting so sweetly to such a scoundrel. As she smiled up MacIntyre, Dougal scowled again. She had never yet smiled at him that way, luminous as sun and moon. Feeling more uneasy the longer she lingered here, he stepped forward. She did not seem to need his protection, but he would be ready all the same.
“Mr. MacCarran,” Fiona said, turning to face her brother directly, “goodnight and a thousand wishes to you as well.” Head high, she walked past them all, tugging the dog firmly along with her.
MacIntyre tightened the reins, turned his horse. He snapped something to MacCarran, who had not yet mounted. The lad walked back toward Dougal.
“Tam says he has no more time for nonsense with you lot,” MacCarran said.
“Good,” Dougal snapped. “What did your sister tell you?” he asked low.
“She wanted to be sure you would be safe tonight. She also said she has no intention of leaving the glen, in case the laird should ask.” Patrick looked hard at him. “Kinloch, keep a care for my sister. And watch your own back.”
Dougal nodded. “I will watch after her. Do not doubt it.”
“Take the barley to the young miss and her grandmother, and to the others who need it,” MacCarran said, loudly enough for MacIntyre to hear. “See to it quick, and return to your homes. From now on, move your goods in daylight. Do you hear?”
“Ah, but young sir,” Fergus said, “we are that busy in the daylight with our flocks and our herds, and we do not have time then to carry the goods we promise to all the homes in the glen.”
“See that you make the time.” MacCarran returned to his horse and mounted.
“You are taking too damn long,” Tam snapped. Then he pointed at Dougal. “You, sir! We will not see you out in these hills again by moonlight or darkness, is that clear? Next time I will bring more men. Mark that well.”
“In my glen I do as I please,” Dougal answered. “Mark that. Goodnight, sirs.”
