Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The next morning, Rowan and I lingered in bed. The cool morning fog dampened the sun in a gauzy haze. I rolled over, feeling heavy in the head and cotton in my mouth.
Rowan put his hand to his forehead. “Mac Mead,” he groaned.
I tucked my pillow under my cheek and smiled at his rough side profile.
We’d all gotten good and sauced then stumbled home or into the castle.
The cottage sitting room had Holly on one couch and Tee on the other, and the castle held the rest. I was sure after a shower and a coffee, when I went up the knoll, I would find more bodies snuggled into the new grass.
The frivolities had been music-filled, drink-sloshing euphoria that was starting to be common with Rowan and me.
“How many cups of mead?”
“Too many.” He squinted at me. “Is my head still attached?”
“It is.”
“Feels like it’s been knocked off my shoulders.”
“Nope, it’s still there. Where do you think the MacDonagh brothers learned to make it?”
“Hell.”
I snickered. How did something that started as honey end up as Scottish moonshine?
“I’ll make us all a greasy breakfast; then we’ll go see what we did last night.
“Och, sounds good. May I have two ibuprofen with my breakfast? Nae, make it four.”
I kissed his cheek and slipped out of bed, feeling light in my heart and soul. “You betcha.”
Our small dining table was crowded with four of us around it. Plates were piled with eggs and bacon and biscuits thick with butter and jam. Cups of coffee and tea jostled for space. We were all slowly coming alive. Rowan’s ibuprofen had kicked in, and he was looking almost perky.
“Is it like this every time y’all get together?” Tee asked, downing his second cup of coffee.
Holly and I answered in unison.
“Yes.”
Rowan’s phone interrupted the conversation. The caller ID said: Casswell Agent; he answered it on speaker.
Charmaine sounded like she was driving. “It’s come to my attention that today the constable will be doing a walk-through of the Otey house.
There are several eyewitnesses outside your clan who have verified that it is indeed at the home despite the bank’s agents having gone through it and not seen it above the mantle as it was originally reported.
I have to file verification of artwork ownership papers with the constable’s office—they’re woefully behind the modern age of email and need my signature inked in person.
I’ll be filing those this morning in Laoch County.
Meanwhile I’ll need you to be available to meet the constable in person.
I will try to be with you, but I’m unsure how long the filing will take—it’s often I get there and not only have I been given the wrong forms but two more are needed. Please be ready when I call again.”
The table was a bustle of activity. Chairs were pushed back, dishes were rushed to the sink, the last of the coffee was drunk, and tea was put down the hatch.
Charmaine continued after a pause, sounding almost vulnerable. “Is… Is Tiberius with you, by any chance?”
Tee, a biscuit shoved in his mouth, was at his phone that was charging by the window.
Charmaine said, “Oh, he’s calling in. Goodbye.”
She was gone, and I heard Tee as he headed out the door, slipping on his jacket: “Hey baby, you coming to get me? Yeah, I crashed on Pipsqueak’s couch after the party. I know, I missed you too.”
Holly was tugging on her boots. “Meet you up at the castle in ten!” Then the door slammed shut.
“Wow, that was…” I trailed off, seeing I was alone. I turned back around as Rowan came rushing out from the back room of the cottage, pulling on a thick wool sweater.
“Love you, bye” and gave me a drive-by kiss before he too left the cottage. The door closed with a decisive click.
To the empty house, I answered, “Bye, guys!”
We were at the back of Rowan’s ancient boxy all-terrain Mercedes that looked like it had been a service vehicle in WWII.
The rear hatch was open as he loaded the items Charmaine texted he’d need to transport the Rembrandt home.
I’d taken the short walk to inspect the wild field we’d brought back to life and beamed with pride at each blade of grass, clover, and herby shrub that grew.
Now, at Rowan’s vehicle, the buzz of retrieving the Rembrandt was palatable.
Charmaine called again, and Rowan paused to hold the phone while on speaker and was looking impatient at her nasal instructions.
“As I mentioned in my text, it is vital that the painting is carefully handled. Hopefully I’ll be there and you won’t have to do any of this, but it does mean you’ll need gloves and properly prep it for transport with a witnessed transfer to your vehicle.
Again, the detailed instructions are in our text thread.
Violate any of these steps, Chief MacLaoch, and it will void the insurance policy on that piece of art. Understood?”
He replied with an impatient “Aye, is tha’ it?”
“I cannot impress upon you the importance of this; without the insurance backing of the item, it could become worthless.”
I made a face at her use of the word.
Rowan matched me. We were solidly just barely tolerating the woman.
“Aye, got it, fuck up the priceless family heirloom, and we’re fucked.”
“That’s not exactly what I—”
I could hear TJ in the background of her call coach her: “Say yes. They understand the importance and your instructions.” Charmaine into the phone said, “Yes.”
“Goodbye.” Rowan jabbed his thumb into the screen severing the call before pocketing his phone.
I put a gentle hand on his shoulder to get his attention, and to give him some of my calm.
“Remember,” I said to him as he loaded a metal munitions box into the back that he swore on his father’s life was “just some tools.” “You’ll politely ask to go inside.
He’ll say no. And Rowan, that’s fine. The constable will go in next.
They’ll confirm it’s there, and then you can go in and remove it, handling it in the way Charmaine says it should be handled.
But honestly, I doubt the constable will let you enter his home.
Let him retrieve it. That is also fine.” Rowan had his pilot gaze on, one where he was so focused on his task that nuance was lost to him.
“Aye,” he said absently as he rearranged moving blankets.
I had a feeling he’d not heard a word I said.
I switched grips to his wrist and gently turned him to face me and got even more pointed. “No breaking and entering.”
He put his hand over mine and said quietly, “I want tae promise ye that.” His gaze held rage and determination.
The kind that was useful, even necessary, two hundred years ago, to keep the land that his clan had settled a thousand years prior.
This had the feeling of an old-timey feud that required guts and cunning, but it was the twenty-first century, and while the stakes were certainly high—the loss of the castle and jobs for many—this was not a physical battle. Or shouldn’t be.
“Fine,” I said, letting my resignation sound in my voice. “Where do I send Clive and Charmaine if you’re arrested?”
He grinned then. It was a smile that was laced with what I could only assume was “I’m gonna fuck shit up and have a grand ol’ time while I’m at it.”
“I’ll drop a pin.”
“Don’t forget to before you’re handcuffed.”
Holly arrived then with a surprise passenger. Only it was a surprise just to me. Rowan seemed to know he was coming. Mickey got out of Holly’s car. He grabbed a duffel bag out of the trunk and came around to the rear of Rowan’s vehicle.
“For the record, I don’t approve o’ this.”
“That makes two of us,” I responded.
To Rowan, he added, “But if it makes us even, I’m in.”
“Says who?” I asked.
His gaze went Holly, who had made her way to us, then back to Rowan. “She says it does.”
Holly was pocketing her car keys when Rowan asked her, “Ye said that?”
“Let me come?” she said in response, but it sounded more like a rebuttal to a conversation they’d had prior and she already knew Rowan’s answer.
“Nae.”
“Aye, then.” She threw her thumb at Mickey.
Rowan was silent while assessing Mickey, trying to figure out if he could toss him out of the car on the way to the Otey place.
“When this is over, I’ll decide whether or not we’re even.”
When Mickey looked to object, Holly whispered, “Take it.”
Mickey ground his rear molars as if he were grinding his free will into submission. “Fine.”
Rowan pointed his chin toward the front. “In, then.”
I reminded Rowan, “Everyone is on alert. Charmaine will have the paperwork for all the legal fancy footwork she wants. She’ll get it. He can’t have hid it just anywhere. It’s four feet tall, for crying out loud. Just remember to get back into your rig and come back here. No funny business.”
Holly held her cell in her fingers and gave it a short wag. “I got my eyes and ears out there. We’ll find it, Chief. And if he wants to go missing again, we’ll find him.”
I didn’t like the sound of the last part.
He held his hand up to her, and she clasped it before they gave each other a one-armed hug.
“You’re a good lass.”
She tucked her phone away and said, “Aye, I’d do better for you in tha’ front seat.”
“And your dad and mum would hang me from the old oak tree in town square if I did. Not tae mention that the castle is unguarded without ye.”
He gave her a wink as I said, “Hey. I’m still here, along with Clive, Peabody, Marion, and Flora. I have data due to the Fund to submit, but I’m still here.”
Rowan gave me a funny smile and dragged his thumb along my jaw before giving my lips a kiss. “I know.”
I didn’t know how to interpret that, but Holly slung her arm over my shoulders. “I’ll protect your bride, my liege.”
He gave her a knowing smile and stepped back, closing the rear hatch. “I know ye, Holly—careful what ye wish for.”
Holly gave him a wicked grin; they were having another conversation that sounded like one they’d had before. Like siblings who were able to pick up and put down conversations even if they were hours, days, or years apart.
“I know exactly what I’m wishing for.” Then she turned her face into mine; she was close enough I could see the ebony freckles on her brown cheeks. “Come on, let’s get hammered.”
“It’s barely half past noon. And I did that yesterday.”
“Yer point is?”
After inspecting the field and putting the finishing touches on the report to the Fund, Holly and I retired to the cottage.
I crouched by the wood stove, adding kindling before striking a match to get the whole pile started.
Holly was getting something from the boot of her car.
The fire gave a pop and then caught the rest of the dried wood with crackling snaps.
I was closing the door to the wood stove when Holly fumbled with the cottage door and fell in, a box in her arms. It had golden lettering across the side: Glentree Gold Whisky Co.
We gave each other a grin. The bottles tinkled as Holly jostled the box, keeping upright as she kicked the door shut.
“The ones last night didn’t have labels on them.”
“Aye, that was the tasting whisky Rowan had with my da and the gents. This is the official first bottling. The rest are in boxes and are set for distribution. Exciting, aye?”
“The unlabeled stuff was good.” I picked up the bottle and admired the emerald label with embossed gold lettering.
“This is the aged set. Last night was the young five-year. Here I have twelve and twenty-five.”
“Twenty-five, how is that possible?”
Holly waggled her eyebrows at me. “It’s the whisky from the raid. Care for a taste test of the best, and once considered bootleg, whisky in Glentree and maybe even all of Scotland?”
I grinned. “That sounds like an outlandish claim, and one, frankly, I won’t believe unless I witness it myself. And by witness, I mean, taste.”
“Aye, best we do our own research.”
I raided the kitchen cupboard and pulled down two proper glasses.
Rowan was casual enough to drink whisky from ceramic cup, quaich, or even a mug, but when he wanted to sit by the fire and look out the large living room window as a squall moved onshore, he enjoyed his amber fire in a crystal whisky tasting glass.
Some of them were antiques, some of them were pinched from the castle gift shop and were etched with the clan crest and MacLaoch motto: Bellator ad mortem. A warrior unto death.
Holly ceremoniously opened the bottle. The corked cap came out with a satisfying pop. She held the bottle and murmured something in Gaelic. As she poured, I asked what she’d said.
“Oh, just a little something my mum taught me. A prayer ye say over an auspicious moment. This is the whisky that my da helped care for since the laird was a wee one, and with the help from his boys, they’re ready to go to market.
Everything they’ve worked so hard on made the chief weep. Feels powerful and consequential, aye?”
“Yeah, it really does.”
“So, I asked that this moment be protected, observed, and cherished for the life it’s giving and the health it’s preserving—and that the angels take only their fair share.”
“Slàinte.”
“Slàinte mhath.”
The whisky was mellower than the one last night, but with a honey-bold fire on the back of the palate, warming my blood as I swallowed it down.
“Mm.” I smacked my lips in satisfaction. “I’m pretty sure in any other situation, none of us would make enough money to afford a bottle of this.
“It’s something, aye?” Holly looked lovingly at the amber legs the whisky left on the crystal.
We settled in on the couch like two old married folks enjoying an afternoon dram, looking over the bottles lined up by year on the coffee table out the window to the ocean beyond.
“It’s been a wild few weeks, aye?”
“It has.”
“With the Rembrandt coming home, we can finally put it all to bed.”
We finished off our little sample, and Holly picked up the bottle and gave it a tiny wag. Another?
I gave a cough as the last sip warmed my stomach. “Let’s do it.”