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Page 42 of A Rogue in Twilight (The Whisky Rogues #2)

“L ook at the Highland natives!” Lady Rankin pointed as the open carriage rumbled along. Beside her, Elspeth saw two Highland men and a boy walking along the ridge of a hill, dressed in plaids. As the coach passed, they waved and doffed their caps.

“Please do not call them natives, Aunt,” Fiona said.

“Well, they look like Hottentots,” Lady Rankin said. “My gracious, your coachman drives fast!” She grabbed a strap by the half-door as MacKimmie took the carriage at a stiff pace up a curving slope in the road.

“Some coaches fly very fast through here,” Elspeth said. “Grandda says you could set a tea-table on their coattails, flying out so straight.” James and Fiona laughed.

“Is the Brig o’ Turk mentioned in Sir Walter’s poem the one in your glen, James?” Lady Rankin asked, pointing toward a stone bridge.

“That is another bridge, I believe. Ours was damaged in the recent rains,” James answered.

“I enjoyed the passage you read to us from The Lady of the Lake this morning, Aunt,” Fiona said. “Perhaps we will see other sights from the poem.”

Elspeth smiled, remembering how the lady had droned on imperiously that morning as the group set out.

She tugged at her gray bonnet and folded her gloved hands demurely in her lap, hoping her gray gown, green spencer, and plaid shawl were acceptable in this company, as she wanted to please James’s family.

Certainly her leather boots were well suited to hillwalking, and she was ready for an outing in cool autumn weather.

She thought of Charlotte Sinclair, a vision in a pale blue walking dress and long pelisse with matching bonnet.

Glancing at James, she was glad that Charlotte was riding in the second coach with Patrick, Sir Philip, and Donal MacArthur.

Her grandfather would have scant patience with Charlotte’s selfish ways.

As the countryside flew by with MacKimmie in command, Elspeth enjoyed the comfort of the open landau pulled by two sturdy horses.

Lady Rankin had complained that a coach and four would be more comfortable until Angus MacKimmie had pointed out the larger vehicle would be a hindrance on Highland roads.

“We will be lucky to even come near Loch Katrine in this carriage,” he had said. “The ground is verra rocky.”

Fiona sat close to James, discussing geology.

Elspeth smiled, watching them, grateful to have found a friend in James’s twin.

Their engagement would be kept secret for a while, even from Grandda and Peggy.

She trusted Fiona and Patrick, too, to keep the news to themselves.

That they were pleased was enough for now, though she was eager to tell Grandda as soon as James agreed it was time.

“There is Loch Achray,” she said, pointing as the coach rolled onward.

Lady Rankin consulted a small guidebook. “It looks scarcely more than a pool. How disappointing.”

“It is a small one—a lochan. It is in a beautiful setting.” Gold and russet trees, oak and birch, covered the hillsides, with clusters of evergreens.

Fiona consulted a page where she had written some notes for the tour.

“I look forward to seeing the impressive Trossach Mountains, said to be the fringe of great Highland fastnesses, wildish and remote, to the north.” She looked up.

“It is noble and picturesque scenery. No wonder it is so popular, not just because of Sir Walter’s poetry, but for its spectacular beauty. ”

“You must make some sketches of the scenery, dear,” Lady Rankin told her. “I would like a visual memoir of what we see today.”

“My skill is inadequate to the subject, madam, but I will try.”

James looked out the other side of the coach. “Lord Eldin is opening a hotel near Loch Katrine. He called it Auchnashee.”

“I know that area,” Elspeth said. “Eldin has a good deal of work ahead of him if he thinks to open an establishment there.”

“He has the funds for it,” Fiona said.

“Does this road go all the way around Loch Katrine?” Lady Rankin asked.

“It ends near the loch,” Elspeth said. “After a while, carriages can go no further and we will need to walk. There is a good mountain track and a wide heath.”

“Walk! I had no idea the area was so rustic. I thought it was prepared for tourists.” Sighing indignantly, Lady Rankin thrust her considerable bosom outward and fanned herself with a little book of poetry.

“We can walk or hire ponies,” James suggested. “And there should be boats.”

“There is a ferryman who lives in a cottage there. He has a little inn and hires out boats,” Elspeth said. “He can take us around. We can have luncheon at the inn, though Mrs. MacKimmie sent baskets of food with us so we can explore on our own.”

“I am looking forward to it,” James said. Elspeth knew he was eager to hike up part of the mountain slope to look for a cave opening.

Fiona consulted her notes. “Ben Venue is a mountain that towers above the southwestern shore. There is a place called the Goblin’s Cave. How intriguing!”

“Goblin’s Cave?” James sat forward.

“Sir Walter mentions it in his poem.” Lady Rankin thumbed through her well-worn copy of The Lady of the Lake . She began to read.

By many a bard, in Celtic tongue/ Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung:

A softer name the Saxons gave/ And call’d the grot the Goblin-cave.

“A grotto? There is one at Struan House,” Elspeth said.

“My sister, Lady Struan, fancied herself an expert on fairies,” Lady Rankin said. “She said the grotto in her garden was modeled after one called a Goblin Cave.”

“I did not know that,” James said. “I would like to explore the original.” He exchanged a quick glance with Elspeth.

“Go looking for your little rocks, James,” Lady Rankin said. “I have no taste for hillwalking. A boat on the loch sounds just the thing. Fiona, come with me. I think we can persuade the others too. Miss MacArthur?”

“I would like to see the mountain and the cave,” Elspeth said.

“Miss MacArthur can come with me,” James said. “Perhaps your grandfather will act as our guide, while Mr. MacKimmie takes the others around.”

“Charlotte will want to go with you too,” Lady Rankin said.

“She is hardly dressed for hillwalking,” Fiona pointed out. “She will be safer and more comfortable in the boat.”

Elspeth glanced at the sky to see gray clouds rolling overhead and swirling around the peaks of the Trossachs. The wind was brisk and cool, the view wide and awe-inspiring. Feeling its elemental power, she drew a deep breath to take in that strength.

Fiona read aloud from the folded page. “Ben Venue has black and towering sides with a certain rich gloss to them, and a craggy dignity housing caves replete with legends. Why would the mountain appear glossy, James?”

He glanced toward the black mountain with its multiple peaks. “Deposits of mica, perhaps, or granite and crystal. I am interested to examine it.”

“I will leave that to you and Miss MacArthur as two brave souls.”

“You are no coward,” James told his twin, “but luxury of a boat would allow you to make sketches today.”

“For your sake, dear brother,” Fiona murmured, “I would be happy to do that.”

“Let me read to you about Ellen’s Isle, named for the heroine of Sir Walter’s poem,” Lady Rankin opened her book and began to read aloud again.

Elspeth listened and tried to quell her fears. Soon she would turn twenty-one, a birthday she dreaded. She sighed and glanced at James. He gave her a small, private smile, and she understood the silent message— love, strength, passion, hope— as his aunt’s voice droned on.

Both coaches drew to a halt in the yard of the ferryman’s house near the rounded foot of the loch.

Mr. MacDuff and his wife emerged to greet them, soon serving the group hot tea in a small, pleasant parlor, along with warm oatcakes and rowan jelly.

James gazed out the window at Ben Venue and other peaks, anxious to explore.

He gratefully accepted a dose of whisky in his tea, offered by Mr. MacDuff. “The best in the Highlands,” the man said. “Made locally. You will not find better!”

James chuckled, expecting that every Highland man would claim his whisky to be the best, and with good reason. He had always found Highland whisky to be superior to the Lowland sort more commonly found in Edinburgh and the Lowlands.

“Who will sail over the water?” Mr. MacDuff asked, and arrangements began.

“Lord Struan will come in the boat with us,” Charlotte said.

“Not this time. I am keen to look for rock samples,” he said, giving his leather bag a little kick to demonstrate his intention to work.

She scowled. “What about your leg? Can you walk that far without trouble?”

“I do not mind the exercise,” he said, while Elspeth and the others looked his way. The others would not have made so direct a reference to his lameness.

“I would be happy to accompany you, Miss Sinclair,” Sir Philip said. “Struan can see all from his mountain top, though he will miss a sublime trip over smooth waters.”

Patrick came back, having left to hire the boats. “We have two boats, enough for all. Though Struan and Mr. MacArthur are for the mountain.”

“My granddaughter will accompany us,” Donal said.

Charlotte whirled. “Miss MacArthur is going with Struan?”

“My dear,” Fiona said, leaning toward her. “Miss MacArthur is used to Highland terrain, and she naturally would want to accompany her grandfather. You will be far more comfortable on the boat with us. I plan to sketch and be quite lazy as I take in the beautiful views.”

“I thought today would be a coach tour,” Charlotte complained.

Sir Philip smiled. “Miss Sinclair, allow me to escort.” He offered his arm.

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