“You can make amends by remembering that Scotland has some rough areas, Lady Clara. A harsh land produces gruff people and sometimes very angry people. But my clan also has a fierce spirit, a generous heart, and a wily way about it that canna be denied.” He smiled as his accent thickened, and she found she liked the sound and look of that.
“You think I will not like them.”
“I think you will judge them too quickly. They are good people, but they are undoubtablynotEnglish.”
What was she to say to that? “As I am often referred to as an odd duck—and those are the kindest terms I have heard—how could I possibly judge people who are different as well?”
He snorted. “Because there is English different and Scottish different.”
“And now I am intrigued.” She arched her brow at him. “Which I gather was your whole point.”
He grinned and settled back against the squabs. “Also, I hope you will indulge me a little as well. Our activities in Edinburgh have been for your entertainment. Finally, you shall get a look at my favorite pastimes.”
Lilah leaned forward. “Will you be throwing things then, Lord Loughton?”
“I am sure Connall—my neighbor to the west—will challenge me so that he and his clan will show well in comparison. But that will not be my main source of delight.”
“Then what will it be?” Clara pressed.
“We have a glass works factory, my lady, at which I am moderately skilled. And whisky to fill the bottles.” He glanced out the window as Aaron. “I hope to interest your brother in touring the distillery.”
“Touring and tasting, no doubt,” Clara said. “Indeed, I should love to see it as well.”
He arched a brow at her. “Do you enjoy whisky, then?” There was no condemnation in his tone, and so she answered honestly.
“I have enjoyed hard spirits now and then.” She winked at Lilah. “And we should definitely expand Miss Rees’ palate in that regard.”
“I am not an innocent in all things,” Lilah returned. “But in this, you’ve caught me out. I’ve never tried whisky. Would it be improper if we sampled a little?”
“Not improper at all,” he said. “At least not in Scotland.”
So it was decided that in the morning, they would tour the distillery and the glass works. But first they had to arrive at his home in the highlands. It was a long journey with the three of them in the carriage, but after lunch, Aaron joined them inside as well. The conversation was desultory. The weather hot enough to make all of them testy. In the end, Clara retreated into her books while the others dozed.
That usually worked for her. Reading always settled her mind—except today. She thought instead about Lord Loughton’s words. She was not normally a judgmental person. She believed in common courtesy, and she extended it to others as a matter of habit no matter what horrible things they said about her. That he would worry that she would be rude toward his family was upsetting. She was never rude on purpose, only by accident. She resolved to be on her best, most cordial behavior throughout her stay in his home.
It was dusk by the time they passed the remains of a curtain wall. Even in the fading light, Clara could see that it was falling to ruin, if it had ever been strong. It appeared more like reinforced hillside than wall. She wanted to ask Lord Loughton about it, but he was sitting with the coachman as he directed their path. She resolved to look at it more closely in daylight as she tried to separate shadows into forms she recognized.
They travelled up the road to the raised flat of land on which the castle was built. She should have expected the size of it. It was a castle after all, one large enough to have a curtain wall. But she had not expected this.
An entire English village could fit inside the main keep, and indeed, there seemed to be stalls and carts everywhere, but none occupied. No doubt, she’d have a lively time seeing them in the morning. She heard Lord Loughton call out, and soon there were lanterns lighting the gloom, guiding their way into the main keep. Anxious to get out of the carriage, she thrust open the door before they fully stopped moving. She waited a moment more, then she jumped out into a slightly muddy bailey. Two young boys ran forward while Loughton, too, jumped down though from a higher perch.
“Art, Mungan! How you’ve grown!”
The boys were there to see to the horses, though one child was barely tall enough to reach the harness. The front door opened, spilling more light onto the ground. Large dogs came running out, barking with canine glee. They clearly knew Lord Loughton, but were unsure about her. She was suddenly surrounded by four large dogs with big teeth and deep barks which made her shrink back against the carriage beside Lilah. And it effectively pinned Aaron inside the carriage. She was accustomed to dogs, of course, but few people kept animals this size in London. They easily came up to her chest and were a hundred pounds of muscle and teeth. Or so she felt.
She squeaked in alarm as they sniffed her, and Lord Loughton snapped a sharp command.
“Come! Lukos, Ogre. Come!”
Two of the nearest creatures lifted their heads, but they didn’t leave her. Probably because Lord Loughton wasn’t their master. And while Aaron calmly encouraged Lilah to step back into the carriage – she was closest to the door – Lord Loughton cursed and roughly pulled the dogs back. They didn’t bite him, but they didn’t give way easily either, even as he cuffed the nearest one to her on his long snout.
“Back! Back, you stupid—”
A long whistle cut through the air, sharp and clear. The dogs immediately retreated, running back to stand next to a man now silhouetted in the light streaming out of the open castle door. He was a large man, outfitted in a fur mantle as if he were a king roused from his mead. Servants flowed out around him holding lanterns aloft so that light filled the courtyard.
“Who comes this evening?” asked one of the servants.
“Who disturbs the MacCleal?” asked another servant from the opposite side.
