Page 138 of A Rogue in Firelight

“My friends and I kept our identities private in matters pertaining to whisky.”

“You gave false information?” Jameson snapped.

“No, my lord. We use our birth names. Certain other details are just not relevant.”

“Arrested for a crime and being an advocate is irrelevant? Hah!” Jameson shook his head. “And the others? Lawyers too as well as—distillers?”

“Sir, Lord Linhope is a physican. MacInnes is a civil engineer.”

“Then why in hell,” Jameson growled, “were you smuggling whisky?”

“If they were, sir,” Hugh said. “That has not been established nor proven.”

“Then why in hell were you possibly doing it? This nonsense about Whisky Rogues belongs to you, after all.”

Seeing the judge’s frustration, Ellison clenched her gloved hands. She saw that Sorcha looked equally distressed. To her other side, Corbie huffed in amusement.

Ronan was silent for a moment, then cleared his throat. “If my explanation will save two men who do not deserve to be jailed, I will tell you.”

“No promises!” Jameson barked.

“My compatriots and I were never the ones that were called Whisky Rogues.”

Ellison gasped. Not a Whisky Rogue? He had never mentioned that detail. She saw Hugh Cameron’s furtive, knowing glance at Ronan.

“Sir, you are not under oath here in this room, but you are well advised to tell the truth.”

“My lord, my brother, William MacGregor, and our cousin, John MacGregor, Viscount Darrach, were labeled Whisky Rogues in the news journals. I believe Sir Walter Scott said it first. They moved whisky out of the Highlands simply because selling for profit has become one of the few ways to help Highland folk. The clearing of the glens over the last two generations has devastated many Scottish regions, ours included. My kinsmen did what they had to do.”

“Smuggling is a crime, even if there is a noble reason,” Jameson said.

“True. And that is a dilemma for many Highland families, my lord, as you are no doubt aware. Land is sold, tenants are evicted or their livelihoods are reduced. Severe limits and high taxes are imposed on whisky. That leaves few means of income for glen folk. Highland whisky is a valuable product, much in demand, but taxation erases profit for those who make it.”

“Did you help your kinsmen build this enterprise while they earned notoriety?”

“I was in India much of that time, sir, part of Sir Evan MacGregor’s regiment. When I returned, I set up a distillery legally and my brother operated it while I practiced law in Perth and Edinburgh. But I have a hand in running the distillery.”

“Were you also part of the smuggling transport?”

“He was not, my lord,” Hugh Cameron said. “That was arranged and run by others. This was established by witnesses but overlooked by the excise.”

“I have seen you in these halls and before my bench. Remind me what you do.”

“Most often I defend Highlanders accused of smuggling, or those charged with violence due to circumstances such as eviction or attack.”

“Would you say you are a Whisky Rogue?”

Ronan hesitated. “For the most part, no my lord. After my brother’s death, I did finish some business in his name.”

“What the devil! I am losing patience. I am missing high tea.”

“Sir, my brother and my cousin were killed by excise officers. My brother left a widow, a son, and tenants in need. Agreements were left unmet. To protect families against ruin and threat, we felt those obligations had to be fulfilled.”

“Obligations to whom?”

“I prefer not to say, my lord,” Ronan said.

“So you saved Highland hides instead of your own, is that it?”