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I raise a hand to silence everyone. "We have one more whisky for you to taste. Who will be my final test subject?"
A young woman thrusts her arm up, waving it frantically. "Me! Me! Please, let it be me!"
Cannae help chuckling. "Aye, lass, you may come forward to taste the third and final single malt."
She sprints up to me, pushing her way through the crowd. And she grins at me. "I'm ready."
"How old are you, lass?"
"Twenty-eight." She rummages about in her purse until she finds her driving license. "Here, you can check for yourself."
I do that and return her license to her. "It's fitting that a Scottish lass should finish out our tasting event. What is---"
"My name is Niamh Dunbar," she blurts out before I can finish my question.
"A lovely name for a lovely lass. Are you ready to try Dùndubhan Masterpiece, our newest entry in the Thane brand of single-malt Scotch whiskies?"
"Aye, I cannae wait to try it."
I grab the bottle and open it, then offer the lass a dram of the newly christened Dùndubhan Masterpiece. That name had been Rebecca's idea. Since the water for my distillery comes from the river that begins near the castle, she suggested we should honor Dùndubhan in this way. Rory and Emery, who own the castle, had loved the idea.
Niamh delicately sips from the glass while I hold it for her. She keeps her eyes open, unlike the others, and simply contemplates the flavors for a moment. "It tastes like...everything. Hints of sweet and spicy, but also maybe some type of peppers. So many flavors hit my senses at the same time, and I can't describe everything. It feels as if the whisky has gone straight into my veins and awakened all my nerves."
Rebecca had described it that way when she first sampled the newest iteration of my whisky.
I offer Niamh the glass, and she accepts it, finishing off her tasting with two more swallows. Then she shivers. "Oh, my, that makes me feel so..." She casts her gaze downward, biting her lip and glancing about as if she's embarrassed. "I wish my fiancé could have come with me today. I will definitely make him visit this place very soon."
Oh, aye, she has definitely experienced a similar effect as Rebecca had felt.
Now that I've demonstrated the power of my whiskies, Rebecca and I hand out more shot glasses and let the rest of the crowd discover my single malts. None say anything negative. In fact, they all give my whiskies five stars while quite a few declare that they would give my distillery ten, fifteen, or even twenty stars if it were possible.
Bod an Donais. Rebecca has done it. I knew the lass was clever and creative, but she has outmatched all my expectations which were admittedly high, though only because I knew she could do amazing things. Aye, she deserves a twenty-star rating for her work. No, it should be one hundred stars for her.
As our group exits the dunnage warehouse, two of our employees take over the task of guiding them through the next phase of the tour. Fiona and Domhnall will handle the next round of visitors to the warehouse. That leaves Rebecca and me with free time for the next half hour. And I know precisely how to spend that time.
I claim Rebecca's hand, leading the lass outside and down the river trail. She moves closer, and I fold my arm round her shoulders. "The weather is unusually warm today, as if someone cast a spell over Beann Dealgach and everything and everyone on the mountain. The temperature is perfect for an outdoor interlude."
She settles her hand over mine, where it lies on her shoulder. "I know what 'interlude' means to you. Aren't you worried someone might catch us getting it on?"
"Not at all." I tug her more firmly to my body. "I've made some...arrangements. You might call it my master plan."
"Well, you are the master distiller and the master maltster. How could I refuse you anything?"
I smile and kiss her temple. "You like saying the words master maltster, don't you?"
"Oh, yes. It's a fun tongue twister, and I love being able to say the words without screwing up."
We stop at the end of the trail. The river rushes past us, burbling and whooshing, both words Rebecca likes to use.
I wave toward the other bank. "We're going over there."
"You want to swim in the ice-cold river? The air temperature might have gone up considerably, but the water doesn't care about that."
"No, gràidh, you misunderstand. I told you I've made arrangements." I walk behind a tree, the same one we had shagged against five weeks ago, and bring out a rather large item. I'd hidden it behind the trunk. "This will get us there without dunking ourselves in the river."
She sets her hands on her hips and shakes her head, smiling with appreciation. "I should've guessed you'd have a well-defined plan. When did you hide that canoe back there?"
"Early this morning. You were in your office fretting over the final details of today's events."
