Slade started to tell Peter they should venture into Broadford later to pitch Hortons business to other clans when Lachlan eyed Slade.
“You let Egan Dunbar rearrange your face? I’d have relieved the man of a limb or two,” Lachlan said.
CHAPTER 40
Growing up, Slade had often found his brother’s brash and blunt attitude annoying. But now he simply threw his brother an unperturbed glance.
“Well, I would have tried relieving Egan of a limb or two after he punched me had he not been pointing a musket pistol at my head,” Slade droned.
Peter’s knife and fork clinked on the side of his plate and his head snapped towards Slade’s brother. “Slade’s actions disarmed a potentially volatile situation,” Peter said forcefully, looking annoyed at Lachlan.
Lachlan, ignoring Peter, eyed Slade. “Why in Hades was Egan pointing a musket pistol at you?” Lachlan asked.
“Because I was kissing his sister,” Slade replied, a slow grin pulling the corners of his mouth.
He had never burned for a kiss like he had for Phoebe’s in the hallway at the Black Hog’s. It had hit him, mindless and irrepressible. He’d been ablaze with its rawness and fire. And if someone had told him the price for a taste of Phoebe’s sweet lips would be a shot in the head from her brother’s gun, he wouldn’t have hesitated. In that second, it had been as essential as air to breathe.
Slade was still reconciling his little friend Fifi with the woman she’d become, Phoebe. One thing was for certain, he wanted Phoebe like he’d never wanted any other woman. But he couldn’t fail Phoebe like he’d failed Sylvia, because the cost had been Sylvia’s life.
Lachlan snorted. “You used to be discreet with your amorous intent, brother. What has happened to your discretion?”
Slade had never told his family about Sylvia all those years ago until after he had proposed. Maybe because he had wanted to be sure of his feelings and hers.
Slade’s father smiled, picking up his coffee mug. “I imagine when the heart is engaged, subtleties like discretion are forgotten.”
His father’s words caused him to pause for the briefest moment, because his heart was indeed engaged.
When his father finished his coffee, he eyed Slade. “I, for one, am happy you are back home and safe. Your fighting in the wars caused me grief and worry to no end. And if the English will be enforcing the abolition of the Heritable Jurisdictions Act, like you say, we will need to decide as a family how to refocus the clan’s business, outside of cottars.”
“With the ongoing war over the Hapsburg dynasty, Jacobite riots here and the riots in the Americas, we’ll need a secure income apart from the estate. Getting into the arms business is one option for the MacLeans,” Slade said to his father.
Peter straightened in his seat. “Hortons has the best craftsmen in England. We would welcome more investors. Your profit from investing with Hortons would be greater than the profit on your lands.”
In the next hour, they discussed alternative lines of businesses as well, whisky distillery and overseas trading, any way to keep up with the British’s taxes. At last, Chisolm turned to Slade.
Chisolm had more lines in his refined features than Slade remembered. But his father also seemed less discontent with life. Since Slade’s mother had died, his father had been inordinately cold, hardened, and unyielding. Slade had been too young to see the change, but Minister Raghnall had told him how happy his father used to be before his mother’s death. Chisolm had worshipped his mother when she was alive. Growing up, Slade had argued a great deal with Chisolm on varying topics from politics to clan matters. Once Slade had tried to convince his father that being in a British army didn’t necessarily mean he was aligned with Britain. His father hadn’t believed him and had all but disowned him for an entire year. Slade’s love for his father had almost festered to hate that year during which their arguments had been harsh and even malicious. But over the last few visits his father had mellowed out. Slade was happy to see his father becoming more relaxed and easy-going. He suspected his father, after all these years, was coming to terms with losing his wife.
“I need to speak with you on a matter of importance. Come join me in the library when you’re done with breaking your fast,” Chisolm now said to Slade.
CHAPTER 41
Two days after returning home, Phoebe and Aila set out in a horse-drawn cart for the village of Broadford and Strathail Distillery.
Phoebe’s thick, fur-lined black cloak helped buffer against the cool, early-November morning. The missing sun and gray clouds left the browning grass in a dull light. And as they crossed over an old, creaky bridge, the water of the Inner Sound on their right seemed more silver than blue. She had left early enough that she didn’t have to explain to Lucia, her parents or Egan where she was going, since she had no desire to do so. Falcon had impressed upon her thatMissions are to be discussed only with fellow operatives.
They passed the noisy bustle of the cattle market with its haggling buyers and sellers, the smell of hay and manure, and the frustrated mooing from Highland coos. A short while later, Phoebe gazed up at the majesticBen na Calliach.Villagers refer to the hill as theold woman, because of its shape. But Phoebe couldn’t recall the dull light ever falling on it in such a shadowy, foreboding manner.
An hour later, just after passing the quiet parish church, they arrived at a large, reddish stone building overlooking theBroadford River, carrying signage for Strathail Distillery. The man who rushed out to greet them had a full head of graying hair, neatly pulled back, and a pleasant countenance. He also had Aila’s smile and clear complexion. He hugged Aila and then her maid introduced her father, Master Fitzroy. After Fitzroy ordered a distillery worker to feed and take care of their horse, he turned to Phoebe.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mistress Dunbar. Aila sent one of the Dunbar kitchen lads yesterday with the message that you are interested in Strathail whisky.”
Phoebe smiled with appreciation at Aila.
“Depending on the price, I’d first like to purchase a single cask to start with and see how it is received by our clan,” Phoebe said, turning to Aila’s father. Why spend the coin upfront before determining if the Dunbars liked it or not?
“Our whisky is the finest in the Highlands, and I have no doubt you will be pleased,” Fitzroy said.
He then led them on a brief tour of the well-managed modern distillery, explaining the cooking of the grains, the fermentation and distillation process, then the aging in their charred oak barrels.
