Top Hat

" N ay," Payton insisted. "I canna go to Dundee now. Our babe might arrive at any time. My wife will need me."

"Especially since ye were such a big help with the first two bairns," Tavish replied sarcastically.

Smiling, Makenna watched this exchange. It was well known in Glengeárr that Payton had fainted when Alba's birthing pains began and only regained consciousness after the babes were safely delivered. "Unfortunately," she reminded Payton. "Yer brother's in the same situation, though I think both yer wives are weeks away from delivering."

"Aye," he sighed. "But…"

"But I willna faint dead away when Piper's time comes," Tavish retorted.

Payton grimaced. "Verra funny."

"Can ye nay send Donal and Liam to collect yer auntie and Lord Ash?" Makenna suggested.

"I canna spare two men from the harvest," Tavish replied. "I promised they could work Dalwhinnie's fields."

Makenna knew full well this was an important time of year for the distillery. The barley crop wouldn't be large this year thanks to the cooler summer weather, but every grain would be needed to keep up with the increasing demand for Uachdaran .

A chill raced up her spine when the brothers turned their attention to her. "Nay, I canna go."

"Why not?" Tavish asked. "Ye've gone before to deliver shipments to the docks in Dundee."

"Aye, but…"

"And ye're more than capable o' handlin' the team that pulls the wagon," Payton said.

"But…"

"So, 'tis settled," Tavish declared. "Auntie Maureen will be delighted to see ye."

"What about the philandering Englishman?" she asked.

" Och , ye'll be safe enough wi' our auntie," Payton replied.

Makenna could hardly retort that she didn't want to be safe enough. She would eventually have to meet the English lordling but spending two days on the road with him loomed like a rock on which she might founder.

Ash might have known it would be pouring rain when the Knotty Pine docked in Dundee. He'd been seasick for much of the voyage from London. The choppy North Sea was nothing like the English Channel on the day he'd sailed to Flanders. He'd have been completely miserable were it not for the care lavished on him by the Dowager Duchess. She made him weak tea, emptied his sick bowl and mopped his brow with cool cloths. She insisted he call her Aunty Maureen. He balked at first—but then decided there was no harm in humoring the woman in whose house he would be lodging. He'd never had an aunt and it was nice having someone take care of him.

He stayed below decks for as long as he could, forced to emerge when Jock rapped on his cabin door. "Look lively, Ash," he shouted. "Makenna's here to take us home."

Irritated that he hadn't given the Scot leave to use his given name, he followed Jock up on deck, peering into the sheets of water for a glimpse of this McKenna fellow and the carriage that awaited them.

Aunty Maureen was waving frantically at a bedraggled figure standing beside a team of dray horses hitched to a wagon. Shrouded in wet oilskins, he could be as old as the hills or a youth.

"Who's Aunty Maureen waving to?" he asked Jock.

"I told ye, Makenna has come to meet us."

The knot in Ash's gut tightened. "He's come in a wagon?" he hissed. "We'll get soaked."

"Nay. She'll ha'e brought a tarpaulin to keep us dry."

Ash feared he might be going mad. Was he truly expected to travel for two days under a tarpaulin in a rickety wagon? But then he realized what Jock had said. "She?"

Soaking wet after waiting more than an hour on the dock, Makenna was in no mood to be patient with the Englishman's bad manners. As soon as he disembarked, and even before they were introduced, he was complaining about the wagon. "Scotland isna the place to be if ye dinna wish to get wet," she declared in response. His expensive-looking cape was probably sturdy enough to keep most of him dry but the ridiculous top hat wouldn't last long in the driving rain.

Obviously sensing her irritation, Lady Maureen intervened. "Lord Ash Halstead, may I introduce Makenna Guthrie, cousin to my daughter-in-law, Catriona, and bookkeeper for the Kingdom Distillery."

"Pleased to meet ye," she hissed, annoyingly aware she must look like a drowned rat and not sure why it mattered. "Now, can we climb aboard?"

"Absolutely not," Halstead exclaimed. "My luggage has yet to be unloaded and you should address me as My Lord. "

Tempted to respond with the sarcastic wit for which she was famous, she decided to leave it up to Tavish and Payton to deal with his sense of entitlement. "Go fetch it then," she said, satisfied when he growled before returning to the slip where men were unloading cargo.

She stifled the urge to laugh when the dockworkers sniggered at his top hat and refused to carry his luggage to the wagon. Jock Graham helped him lug a half dozen heavy chests and load them on the wagon. She took great pleasure in telling him he'd have to leave at least one chest behind since there now wasn't room for the passengers.

Seething with rage, Ash nevertheless realized he wouldn't win an argument with the stubborn woman on her own turf. Scots obviously had no respect for rank. His valet had packed his cases, so how was he to decide what to leave behind on the docks? Furthermore, what kind of woman drove a wagon and worked at a man's job? A female clerk? He'd never heard of such a thing.

He'd wager a quick perusal of the books would reveal multiple errors. It was common knowledge the fairer sex couldn't cope with figures.

Not that he intended to demean himself by doing clerical work. Although, his family's investment in the distillery might justify it.

Bollocks! He'd been in Scotland less than an hour and things were already shaping up to be much worse than he'd imagined.