A balance Keira and I are going to have to learn to hold… together.
CHAPITRE 25
KEIRA
The Bitter Taste of an Ultimatum
I’ve visited countless distilleries in my life, but none has ever felt as familiar as this one. The McKenzie aging warehouses stretch out like silent soldiers, row after row of history steeped into wood and time. The air is thick with layered aromas—oak, vanilla, spice—and something else, something intangible that makes it feel like the walls themselves are breathing.
Or maybe it’s just Alistair’s presence that brings this place to life.
— It’s this way, he says, guiding me deeper into the warehouse where the light fades into shadow.
I follow, still wondering why he insisted on showing me something “special” before dinner at his parents’ house tonight.
He stops in front of a small area tucked behind a curtain and glances at me, almost… nervous.
— You might think this is ridiculous…
— After seeing Hamish wear a bow tie at Callum’s wedding, my definition of ridiculous has expanded significantly, I reply with a smile.
He laughs, then pulls the curtain aside.
Behind it is a makeshift lab. A wooden table cluttered with test tubes, pipettes, miniature barrels, and notebooks filled with scribbled notes. At the center sits a glass bottle filled with amber liquid, unlabelled, almost glowing in the dim light.
— What is this? I ask, intrigued.
— My personal project, he says, picking up the bottle. An experimental whisky… inspired by what we found in the archives.
I stare at him, surprised.
— You recreated a whisky based on our historical research?
— I tried, he shrugs. It’s just a prototype. Real whisky would take years to mature, and we’d need the original recipe. But I used a few techniques to accelerate the process—just to get an idea of what it might become.
He pours a small amount into two tulip-shaped glasses.
— You changed the way I see things, Keira. Before, I saw my family’s history as a marketing tool. But because of you, I’ve started seeing it as something alive… something that can still inspire us today.
I take the glass he offers me, touched more than I expected. Our fingers brush, and that now-familiar spark shoots up my arm.
— I didn’t expect this, I admit. I didn’t picture you as an experimental distiller.
— There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet, McGregor, he says with a half-smile.
— Is that a threat or a promise, McKenzie?
Our eyes lock, and suddenly the air between us thickens. I bring the glass to my lips, partly to taste, partly to hide the way my pulse stutters.
The first sip is a revelation. Honey. Dark fruit. A hint of spice. And something else—something I can’t quite name, but that feels strangely… familiar.
— This is incredible, I murmur. What is that note?
His smile widens.
— A secret ingredient I’ll reveal in due time.
I nod, lifting the glass again to inhale its scent.
