Chapter Eighteen #2
“Cooperate, and all will go well. You can have the rest of the glen if you will accept my money. You will be a rich man. Fiona would like that, would you not, cousin?” He smirked, glancing toward her. “She is desperate to find a wealthy Highland man.”
“I have found the one I want,” she said quietly, her gaze meeting Dougal’s.
“A penniless Highland laird? Go ahead,” Eldin said. “Break the conditions of the will, and the bulk of Lady Struan’s accounts will come to me. I can only benefit.”
“The laird of Kinloch has more wealth than you can ever imagine or appreciate,” she said. “The wealth of a good heart, and the good fortune of loyalty, respect—and love.” She looked at Dougal, her eyes wide and sheened with tears.
He caught her gaze, held it, felt his heart open wide, full to the brim. But he glanced away, fingers flexing on the hidden pistol. He must not allow distraction now.
“Sentimental nonsense,” Eldin answered. “What have you done to the girl, Kinloch? She was a sensible lass until she came up here. I offer you a good bargain, sir. I advise you to accept, or all will go to hell in this glen.”
“I do not accept,” Dougal said. “You know that.”
“Listen, fool! It is not difficult!” Eldin waved the pistol. “Just give over the fairy whisky you hold now, with the rights to the spring and the recipe to produce it. Do that, and Fiona and the children go free. I will pay handsomely, as I said.”
“Do you truly expect to get out of this cave alive?” Dougal asked.
“I do. You will lose your glen without the funds I am offering you.”
“If you had my whisky stock and the rights to the spring,” Dougal went on, “what then? You do not know how to produce whisky. Little good the rest would do you.”
“Glen Kinloch distillery would produce it for me.”
“I sincerely doubt the glen folk who do the work would cooperate.” Dougal kept his voice low, controlled, though he vibrated with anger.
“There is one problem with your scheme. If the fairy brew is ever sold, that will undo its magic, so the legend says. Oh, but it is just a legend,” he drawled. “What does it matter?”
“What do you mean?” Eldin leveled the pistol at him. “You lie. The stuff is powerful, and the magic of the Fey is what gives it potency.”
“If I take money for it—if any money changes hands—that will render the product to just a modest peat reek. The spring would cease to flow, would never again produce water for the fairy brew. According to tradition, that is. It might be all nonsense.”
“Not true. I heard none of that said in my inquiries,” Eldin said.
“Because it is a secret, you nasty man!” Lucy said. “Only our kin know. Not you!”
Quickly Fiona covered the child’s mouth, leaning to whisper to her.
“What do you mean, girl?” Eldin demanded.
“She is just a child speaking out of turn,” Fiona said, and sent the three children to the back of the cave into shadows. As she turned, Dougal saw her motion surreptiously to him, tipping her head and pointing to the back of the cave. No one saw but himself.
Frowning, he nodded slightly to tell her to stay back with the children. He wanted them out of harm’s way if it came to violence. She inclined her head again, and he understood she meant to go to the back of the cave for safety. Good, then.
“Child, what do you know?” Eldin barked. “What is the secret?”
“She is a bairn, and can be ill-mannered,” Dougal said.
Lucy opened her mouth indignantly to speak, but Fiona clapped a hand over her lips again.
“Enough, Lord Eldin,” Dougal continued. “Your so-called bargain would ruin the value of the fairy whisky forever. It would cease to be special, so legend claims.”
“You would say anything to protect that brew,” Eldin said.
“Put down the gun.” Dougal drew his pistol then, cocked and ready.
“Kinloch is an excellent shot,” Hugh said. “I would beware, sir.”
“Patrick has a good aim too,” Dougal said calmly. “He has not wavered a bit.”
“You would be guilty of shooting a revenue officer if you try,” Eldin said.
He lifted the pistol once more. “You forget I am also a customs officer appointed to this region. MacGregor of Kinloch, I now arrest you in the name of the king for smuggling, and for a treasonous plot to steal revenue from the Crown.”
“Nicholas, please stop this!” Fiona said.
Eldin ignored her. “Put down the gun, Kinloch, or be shot—and others with you. I call it a good bargain indeed to catch such a scoundrel with his supply of whisky.”
“You are named an officer by title only,” Patrick said. “You paid for the position. He never rides out,” he added. “But he has some authority. Blast it all, Nick.”
“Eldin, do not be a fool,” Dougal said. “There is too much at risk here.”
“I ceased to care long ago, when my heart was taken from me. I need fairy magic to replace what I have lost in life,” he said in a low and dangerous voice.
“Fairy magic of great strength, if I am ever to reclaim my heart and soul.” He glanced toward Fiona.
“You wanted to know what happened to me? What I want? I want to feel again.”
Dougal looked toward Fiona. And stared. The back of the cave was dark. Empty. She was gone, and the children with her. Eldin noticed too.
“Fiona!” Eldin stepped toward the cave. As he turned, MacIan picked up the lantern and threw it toward Eldin, striking him on the shoulder, spilling sparks. It tumbled to the floor, but miraculously the light still glowed.
Eldin turned and fired the pistol toward Dougal and Patrick. The reverberation blasted through his ears, his skull, and the ball buzzed past like a metal bee, hitting the rock wall with an explosive crack. Moments later, a great rumbling shook the walls and grew to a trembling underfoot.
Part of the sheer rock wall cracked, then split, and the thunderous noise grew, peppered now with the hiss and sifting of dirt and smaller rocks.
“Fiona!” Dougal shouted, just as Patrick and Hugh threw themselves toward him in a heavy tackle that tossed all three backward to the upper slope of the walkway. Nearby, Eldin tumbled too, as limestone walls began to collapse around them, spewing rocks, dust, and shards of stone.
*
“Hurry, this way,” Fiona said frantically, leading the children ahead of her.
“Quickly!” She glanced over her shoulder as she pushed them into the narrow crevice she had spotted in the back wall of the cave.
The golden star of light from the lantern Hugh had set aside was still visible, and she could hear the men arguing.
Rushing the children along, helping them pick their way through a slim channel in the rock that led onward, she was glad to see that the narrow corridor angled upward, just as she had hoped from a quick glance behind the kegs.
The rock walls were damp stone, the uneven floor of the snaking, narrow passageway so wet in places that she stepped ankle-deep in water twice and had to make sure the children did not stumble.
She could hear water trickling, then rushing, somewhere up ahead, though she could not yet tell what that might mean.
“Walk carefully,” she whispered to the three young ones. “Let me go ahead now. We will all hold hands—there,” she said, when they had formed a chain.
A little further on, she felt fresh air and increasing moisture.
Seeing a glaze of bluish light on the dark, glossy stone walls, she felt sure there must be an opening ahead if they just kept going.
The passage seemed a bit of a maze, sloping up, then down, up again, cantered right and then left.
She prayed the exit, when they found it, would be large enough, for there could be small crevices and fissures throughout the rock that might not allow even a child to pass through.
When she had knelt with the children in the iron-barred cavelet, she noticed the sound of water, felt a drift of moist air, and saw that the ground slanted upward.
Caves like these could be honeycombed with cells and passages, with water trickling here and there and openings to the air naturally occurring.
The water seepage might come from the loch overhead, yet there was a good chance that it might indicate a larger opening in the earth, with a passage to freedom.
It was worth exploring. If the passage proved worthless, she would bring the children back to the storage cave.
But she hoped past hope to get the children far away from here, no longer bargaining chips for Eldin. As for Dougal, Patrick, and Hugh, she prayed they would take control of the situation and stay safe. She knew they would all want the children removed from danger.
As they edged along, she heard a deep rumbling growl and felt the rock floor tremble beneath her feet. Pausing, reaching out to touch the bairns’ shoulders and stop them, she waited. The tremors grew stronger. Lucy cried out, and Jamie and Annabel looked up at her, wide-eyed and frightened.
Something had caused a rockfall—she was sure of that, but unsure what had caused it so suddenly.
Dear God, she thought, had someone fired a gun after all?
Her heart leapt to her throat. As much as she wanted to go back and make sure Dougal and the others were unharmed, she could not risk the children’s safety.
They could not go back now. They had to go forward. She prayed her instincts about the cave formation were correct.
After a few more twists and turns, Annabel pointed ahead. “There is light ahead, Miss MacCarran!”
“I see,” she said. “Good! Keep going, my dearies!”
They were walking sideways now, the passage that narrow as they edged along with their backs to the wall, their feet constantly wet.
Looking ahead, she saw a pale-blue light filtering over the walls.
The surrounding rock was darker now, mottled and glossy.
She paused, running her fingers over it.
Granite deposits, mingled with quartz and shale and other igneous sorts. Fascinating, she thought.