Day One

T avish knew better than to expect Ash Halstead to turn up at the distillery ready and willing to work. "If the lording thinks he's going to sit on his arse and do nothing, he's sadly mistaken," he told Piper as the family ate breakfast. "I dinna relish the task, but Niven expects me to turn an unhappy wastrel into a decent, likable human being."

"Payton will help, of course," she replied. "Your brother knows the meaning of hard work and has little tolerance for skivers."

"Ye and Alba are heavily involved in village life and will be a good influence. Ye never take nay for an answer."

"We can only try our best," she said.

"Try our best," wee Munro piped up.

Tavish and Piper smiled. Their eldest son often echoed his mother's words of wisdom.

"I worry about Makenna," he whispered .

She nodded her agreement. "It seems she and Halstead got off on the wrong foot."

"Aye. Pity that."

"Who's Halstead?" Munro asked.

"A friend of Uncle Niven's who's staying with Auntie Maureen," Tavish explained.

"Why's it a pity?" Piper whispered. "Surely you don't want her to fall prey to any philandering Halstead might have in mind."

"What's flandering ?"

Tavish rolled his eyes. His son had big ears, but had already lost interest and moved on to scolding his sister. "Nay, but Makenna's a clever lass who'd make some man a fine wife."

Piper handed him the basket of hard-boiled eggs, home-made bread and cheese for his midday meal. "She's never shown much interest in any of the local swains."

"Waitin' for the right man to come along," he suggested. "From where I dinna ken."

She shook her head. "I doubt Ash Halstead is that man."

"Aye," he sighed, as he kissed his beloved wife and bairns goodbye before setting off to confront Halstead at Lockie House.

Contrary to expectations, Ash slept well. He was fast asleep when Jock banged on his door. "Wakey, wakey. Rise and shine. Tavish'll be expectin' ye bright and early."

Ash tentatively opened one eye, not quite believing it was still dark. He'd never risen before dawn in his life, except when he was in the army. This primitive backwater was a far cry from army life. People here ate with servants. Nobody seemed to know their place.

He rolled over and was dozing off when someone thrust open the door so forcefully it banged against the wall. Ready to give whoever had intruded a piece of his mind, he sat up. The set down died on his lips. There was no mistaking the impatience on Tavish King's face. The Scot ruled here. Even Ash's late father had admitted being intimidated by him.

"Forgive me, yer lordship," King said, hands on hips. "I was under the impression ye'd be joinin' us at the distillery this morn."

"But…"

"I'm certain ye wish to learn all ye can about the business that earns yer family a good deal o' money."

"Yes, but…"

"Did ye sleep well?"

"I did. Exhaustion after the long journey, I suppose," he replied, thrown off guard by this unexpected polite enquiry.

"Nay," Tavish exclaimed. "'Tis the fresh air in the highlands that provides a man with a good night's sleep. Now, can I ask ye to get out o' bed and accompany me to the distillery?"

Tavish folded his arms across his chest, clearly intending to stay in the room until his victim rose. As he reluctantly emerged from the warm cocoon of fresh-smelling sheets and blankets, Ash wondered if he would ever win an argument with a Scot.

After the long, exasperating journey to Dundee and back, Makenna stretched awake, wishing she could stay in bed, especially since the Englishman would be coming to the distillery today.

It didn't really matter. She worked on the ledgers in her own little domain. Halstead would be helping Tavish, Payton and the other employees in the main part of the distillery itself. At least, that was the theory. It remained to be seen if his lordship actually did any work. As far as she knew, he'd been an officer in the British Army, which probably meant he was used to giving orders while others carried them out.

"Tavish isna here yet?" she asked Payton when she arrived at the distillery after a hasty bowl of porridge.

"Gone to fetch Halstead," he replied.

"What are ye plannin' on havin' him do today?"

"We'll be turnin' the malting barley. That should keep him busy for a day or two. In a few days we'll have him out in the bog harvestin' peat."

She looked up sharply. Surely he was jesting. "Diggin' peat?" she exclaimed, almost disappointed when he winked. Serve Ash Halstead right if they had him up to his armpits in the mucky stuff.

Trailing in Tavish's wake, Ash entered the Kingdom Distillery. He'd heard so much about this storied place from his sire. The memory stabbed him in the heart, but it was of some solace that his father would be glad to see him here.

He paused and inhaled the various aromas.

"Aye, fill yer lungs, laddie," Tavish advised. "'Tis the smell o' the best whisky in the world."

The Scot had a right to be proud of his product, distilled here in a remote part of Scotland. "It must have taken years of hard work to build Uachdaran into the highly-regarded single malt it is today."

"Aye." Tavish eyed him curiously, evidently as surprised by his comment as he was. "Distillin' whisky isna for the faint o' heart."

"True," a newcomer agreed, handing Ash a shovel. "Ye may as well take off yer topcoat."

"Payton, my brother," Tavish explained. "Ye'll be assisting him to turn the maltin' barley."

"I don't understand," Ash replied. "Turning barley?"

"Aye," Payton replied. "We turn it wi' shovels while 'tis maltin'. Just one o' our little secrets."

"So, I'm to use this shovel to do that?"

"Now ye have it," Tavish replied. "Pity about yer boots."

Ash looked down at the reflection of his own face in his best hessians. "My boots?"

Shovels in hand, the chuckling King brothers walked away without replying. They thought he'd be unwilling or unable to do the work. "I'll show them," he growled as he shrugged off his coat and followed in their wake.