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.”
“What other sort?” Patrick asked.
“Nicholas, please listen,” Fiona implored. “We admired you so when we were all young. You were such a kind boy, and a fine young man. But something changed. I know that, but I do not know what it was. Still, you have always been good to me and my brothers. So this, today, I do not understand.”
“Perhaps he is eager to inherit Grandmother’s fortune,” Patrick said.
“Ah. Eldin, the cousin who could claim it all,” Dougal said, remembering what Fiona had explained days ago.
“She told you about that?” Patrick asked. “She trusts you.”
“I hope so.” Dougal did not look at her. Could not, or in the next moment he might go after Eldin and Hugh both in an ugly way.
“So you know Eldin inherits if we do not find fairies and such,” Patrick went on.
“Then by all means, you must find fairies,” Dougal murmured.
“Quiet, both of you,” Eldin snapped.
“Nicholas, I never thought you capable of real harm,” Fiona said. “It borders on evil, what you are doing.”
“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 just a wicked man!” Lucy stood by the grate, staring up at him.
“Shut up, child,” Eldin hissed.
“Do not,” Dougal growled in warning, raising his palm to Eldin.
“I have no interest in harming children,” Eldin said. “Once 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 want to do.”
Dougal looked at Hugh. “Reverend, what is your part in this?”
“I did not know all of this. Sell the whisky to Eldin and be done with it,” 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. “Hugh MacIan, I hope your grandmother does not know about this.”
“She does not,” MacIan answered. “Though she might agree if she did. Kinloch could make a great profit if he would sell his whisky to Eldin. I tried to tell him so. He could gain more, and faster, than by selling to the French or Irish by shipping it out. Those funds could save this glen. That is my concern—the glen and its people.”
“Then you had better save the glen from me, Reverend,” Eldin snarled. “I hold the deeds to Glen Kinloch now. I do not have all the documents yet, but enough to control the glen—and its whisky distilleries.
“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 stop that, sir,” he told Dougal.
“With the profit you make from selling that 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. “After this assault is reported—you will not walk away free from this, I guarantee it—we shall see how the Court of Session views your claim on the deeds to the properties in Glen Kinloch. Land in Scotland belongs primarily to the Crown, so the decision ultimately lies there.”
“We shall see,” Eldin muttered, holding his pistol steady.
Under his plaid, Dougal rested his hand on the butt of his own gun.
He could only pray Eldin would not fire his weapon in this confined space, with a woman and children nearby and the threat of rockfall very real in this ancient cavern.
Yet if he had to fire his own weapon, he would risk it to save the ones he loved.
“Dougal, listen,” Hugh said. “We can all profit from this. Sell him the whisky.”
“Hugh, did you not hear? Eldin does not want the cache of aged whisky,” Dougal said. “If he did, I would have sold it to him and made the profit already. He wants something more valuable, more rare even than Highland gold.”
“That is so,” Eldin said. “I want what no one else can have.”
“If you did not want this whisky supply, why did you bring us here?” Hugh rounded on Eldin. “I agreed to your scheme because buying this stock would benefit the glen more immediately than other means. You never mentioned another whisky. What is it?”
“The fairy whisky,” Dougal said quietly.
“That is just a legend,” Hugh sputtered. “I tasted it myself. Nothing to it. Good but rather bland whisky. It lacks the quality of the aged casks. You do not want that stuff, Lord Eldin.”
“I do,” Eldin replied. “And I will pay any price for it.”
“It is a disappointing brew. You are making a mistake.”
“The fairy ilk themselves make that brew,” Eldin said.
“Not exactly,” Dougal said. “We make it. Hugh is correct. It is just a legend.”
“I doubt it!” Eldin snapped. “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 is it.”
“You are truly mad to believe that.” Hugh gaped at him.
“Why do you care about the fairy brew?” Dougal asked.
“I am a collector of fairy lore and magical things,” Eldin said.
“I have heard of the fairy brew, and I must have it. Sell me whatever you have. I offer you a high price, one you should accept. Sell me the recipe, and make even more profit. I am sure you only wish your loved ones to be safe, and would do anything for them. Anything.” He waved his small pistol toward Fiona.
“And if I will not sell?” Dougal growled.
“Then I can take all you have, the glen, the ones you love. Your life too if I must. Otherwise I can make sure you are jailed for smuggling. I will hold the rights to any brew produced in Glen Kinloch. And,” Eldin said, “you will not see any of these dear folk again.” He looked at Fiona and the children.
Taking a backward step, he lifted his pistol to point it at Hugh, standing nearest him. “Or the good reverend either.”
“The fairy brew is just an ordinary whisky,” Dougal said. “Made from a family recipe. The legends are only stories told by the fireside.”
“I will soon know for myself. I am among the few who will recognize the difference once I taste it,” Eldin said. “When I have the rights to the glen and any goods produced in it, I will have the exclusive privilege of the water source used to make whisky here.”
“No one can claim full rights to water that flows from one glen to another. Nick, truly, this is madness,” Patrick said.
“Madness to one man is genius to another,” Eldin responded.
“Even you cannot bring this about, cousin,” Patrick said.
“Others are coming. Excise men quite like my money, I have found.”
“Water source?” Fiona asked. “Does that matter?”
“Aye, the water quality is essential to the quality of the whisky,” Dougal said.
“True, and there is a certain spring in the hills of Glen Kinloch that supplies water for Kinloch whisky,” Eldin said.
“I have pieced that much together from asking around, and learning about the local legends. The lairds of Kinloch will not reveal it, but others know something of the traditions. I want the rights to that spring, and I want to know exactly where it is.”
“It is protected,” Dougal said.