Page 24 of Highlander’s Sloth

“I am happy to hear that, Mister Macanroy! Now, why don’t you and your lovely wife allow yourselves to be taken upstairs to your rooms? Freshen yourselves up for dinner.”

Kirsty did not like the way the baron was directing all his conversation toward her husband and acting as though she was not even there.

“I thank ye, Baron Lloyd—” she began to say.

“Please, please, call me Fotheringham, dear lady. Everyone does. ‘Tis one of my more accessible titles, you understand. Let us have no more of this ‘Baron Lloyd’ nonsense, shall we?”

She nodded and curtsied gracefully, continuing, “As I was saying, we have already dined on bread and cheese at the alehouse. ‘Tis past noon, after all, and we have been riding since dawn.”

The baron waved his hands to disclaim such a paltry meal. “I forget, you Highlanders dine at such an early hour, don’t you? Well, please then allow me to serve you an early supper!”

Callum was bored of all these formalities, saying, “Come, Kirsty, let us go upstairs. I’m sure the meal will be most welcome to us, no matter what its name be!”

They left the beaming baron in his withdrawing room and followed the housekeeper upstairs.

“He looks like he enjoys the finer things in life,” Callum said when the door had closed behind them. “Methinks he’ll make us a good customer if or when he returns from the New World.”

Kirsty finished washing her face and hands in the basin set up on the washstand and said with a worried expression, “I care not about the baron’s appetites, Cal. I cannae get our return journey out of me mind! Ye must ask Fotheringham for a draft on his bank instead. We’ll never get back up to Macanroy Lodge unmolested with that trunk! Why did ye agree to such a strange transaction in the first place? If there’s one thing I ken, it’s that news of a trunk of gold will travel faster along the road than our horses!”

Callum told her he had not given it much thought, as bedazzled as he was by the large amount offered for the whisky. This made Kirsty bite her lower lip. “What did yer faither suggest ye do?”

Her husband looked down and shuffled his feet. “Um, I did nae tell him. I wanted to impress him with getting the business finished an’ done without his advice on the matter.”

Kirsty frowned. “First thing tomorrow, Cal, ye must venture forth and find us mercenaries. Ye’ll need over a dozen to safeguard the chest if that’s how the baron wants to settle with ye. That’s the number of men me brither sends down to Edinburgh or over to Inverness when he requires coins.”

Only then did Callum realize the effort it would take to bring the chest of gold coins home. He said nothing, but raised Kirsty’s hand to his lips, gave it a kiss, and said, “Me clever wee wife. I will do what ye ask. Now, all we have to do is wait for Brock to arrive with the whisky.”

It was halfway through their meal when the diners heard noises outside indicating the whisky had arrived. Kirsty was pleased for the interruption; she was sickened by the amount of food on the table, with course after course of lavish meat dishes and rich sauces placed on the side table and proffered for her inspection by one of the six footmen. She thought privately that the baron’s dairymaids must be kept busy churning butter all day until their hands grew tired.

As much as the smacking of his lips and licking of his fingers seemed to show the baron’s enjoyment of his food, he must have been waiting anxiously for the wagon to arrive too.

Moving faster than his huge bulk led her to believe was possible, Baron Lloyd jumped up from the table and waddled out the door.

When he saw the wagon piled high with crate after crate of whisky, he clapped his hands and cried out, “Oh, splendid!” then he shouted up to Brock in the driver’s seat, “Take it around to the stables, man, and then go to the servants’ parlor for a bite of supper.”

Brock and the Macanroy groom smiled at the thought of breaking their journey with a comfortable bed and hearty meal, and after looking at their master for confirmation, did as they were bid.

Fotheringham ushered Callum and Kirsty back into the dining room, saying, “If it’s all the same to you, I will ask my footman to broach a bottle. I want to be sure you have not gypped me with an inferior brew!”

As lightly and jokingly as he said this, Kirsty saw a genuinely worried look on the baron’s face.

As though we would ride for nearly seven days and sleep outdoors for the most part of it with a false cargo!

She was rapidly coming to the conclusion that the baron was a spoiled, greedy, overindulged hog with a grasping character and irritating selfishness.

Kirsty drummed her fingers on the table as the footman brought in a bottle. After one sip, the baron’s eyes lit up like a winter bonfire.

“Ah, yes, just as I thought. Absolutely superb.”

He seemed to lose interest in the food and in his guests after this, simply ringing the handbell for the housekeeper and asking her to show them back up to their bedchamber. He did not even look up when Callum and Kirsty bid him a very good night and just waved his hand at them as though dismissing servants.

This time, Kirsty did not even wait for the door to close behind the housekeeper before saying, “Of all the most overbearing and rude individuals! Honestly, I cannae wait to get back to our dear, sweet Highlands. Yer parents might be what I consider to be lazy, but at least they are inherently kind and polite underneath it all.”

And on those words, she stripped down to her shift, gave her teeth a quick brush with a splayed twig, rinsed her mouth with water, and then fell into the big bed.