Page 92 of Laird of Secrets
“As if we could,” Patrick muttered.
“Quiet, both of you,” Eldin snapped.
“Nicholas, dear, I never thought you capable of this,” Fiona was saying. “It borders on evil, this, and is not like you.”
“My dear, so harsh,” Eldin said. “I have good reason to do this. Kinloch refuses to sell his whisky to me. I have little time, and little choice but to act thus.”
“You are a wicked man!” Lucy stood by the grate, staring up at him.
“Hush,” Eldin hissed.
“Do not,” Dougal growled in warning, raising his palm to Eldin.
“I have no interest in the children,” Eldin said. “Nor do I wish harm to my cousins. When I have what I want, you are free to go. With some exceptions.” He stared, flat and cold, at Dougal. “It depends on what you decide to do.”
Dougal looked at Hugh. “What is your part in this?”
“Kinloch, sell the whisky to Eldin,” Hugh said. “Do not take it to the ship.”
“It is a cutter, not a ship,” Jamie corrected.
“Shh,” Fiona said. She huddled with the children by the iron bars. “Hugh, I hope your grandmother does not know about this.”
“She does not,” MacIan answered. “Though she might agree if she did. Dougal knows he can make a better profit selling the whisky to Eldin. I tried to tell him so. It is more profit, and faster, than he could get from the French or Irish merchants. That money could save this glen. That is my concern. The glen and its people.”
“Then you had better save the glen from me,” Eldin snarled. “I hold the deeds now. I do not have all the documents yet, but enough to control the glen.”
“Is the ba’ game over? Who won?” Jamie asked suddenly.
“Southies,” Patrick said.
“They had more players.” Jamie nodded in satisfaction.
“There will be tourists and hotels here,” Eldin said, “and barges going up and down the loch taking them to Glen Kinloch. But you could still stop that, sir,” he told Dougal. “With the profit you make from selling the whisky to me, I will allow you to buy back some of the deeds. You could keep part of the glen.”
“So generous,” Dougal drawled. Under his plaid, he rested his hand on the butt of his gun, but Eldin still held his own pistol steady. He could only hope Eldin would not fire a gun in this confined space, with a woman and children nearby. Yet if he had to fire his own weapon, Dougal thought, he would take the chance if it could ultimately save the ones he loved.
“Dougal, listen to the man,” Hugh said. “We will all profit from this.”
“Do you not see? Eldin does not care about the cache of aged whisky,” Dougal told him. “If he did, I would have sold it to him and made the profit already. He wants something more valuable, something rarer than Highland gold.”
“Absolutely,” Eldin said. “It is not the aged whisky I want, but the other.”
“If you did not want this cache, why bring us all here?” Hugh asked, rounding on Eldin. “I only agreed to your scheme because buying this stock would benefit the glen immediately, as well as yourself. You never mentioned this other. What is it?”
“The fairy whisky,” Dougal said quietly.
“That is just a legend,” Hugh sputtered. “I tasted it myself. Nothing to it. A good but rather plain whisky. It lacks the quality of the aged casks. You do not want that stuff, Lord Eldin.”
“But I do,” Eldin replied. “I will pay any price for it.”
“It is a disappointing brew. You make a mistake.”
“The fairy ilk themselves make it,” Eldin said.
“Not exactly,” Dougal said. “The legend is just a myth.”
“Is it? I have investigated the legends thoroughly. I have searched up and down the Highlands to find something indisputably part of the fairy realm. And Kinloch fairy brew seems to be it.”
