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“This won’t go down well,” the older one, the ringleader, shouts back. “You’re going to be in trouble if you don’t let us carry on with our hunt. We told you, we’ve got permission.”
I snort, shaking my head as I cross my arms over my chest again. If only they knew what a stupid mistake they were making. “Right, you said that. So who was it that gave you that permission again?”
“The Laird!” one of the others, the stupid one who spoke up before, repeats. “And we’ll give him a call if you don’t let us carry on – you’ll be in trouble!”
I nod. “Alright,” I say. I dig into my pocket and pull out my phone, holding it in the air. I look at the screen expectantly, then back at the group of poachers below. The one from the car is finally back on his feet, skulking around at the back. “Go on, then. I’m waiting. Give me a call.”
It takes a moment for what I just said to sink in, but then the poachers pale one by one, each of them realizing what I mean.
Then, finally, the one from the car started backing away like a dog with his tail between his legs.
They know they’re done now.
“Fine,” the ringleader grinds out, and from the flash of anger in his eyes, I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of him yet. “We’re going.”
I stand on the brow of the hill and watch them walk away slowly, picking up my gun once they are a good enough distance away just in case one of them decides to try something stupid.
Once they’re beyond the ridges of the hills that I can see, I turn back to the car, to Alana, who is watching me with wide eyes – though curiously now, not a hint of fear in her gaze.
CHAPTERNINE
Alana
Wow.
That is the only thing I can think of as I watch it all.
Just, wow.
Finlay dealt with a dangerous situation with such confidence and style that it isn’t hard to see why he got the upper hand.
Even though he’d been bluffing about the gun, he somehow managed to turn the entire situation around, forcing the poachers to run away, afraid of staying around him any longer.
And when he told them he was the Laird….
I had to quickly dig into my memory, trying to recall what he’d said earlier. This was all new to me, but hadn’t he described what a Laird did before?
Like a CEO, the Laird is responsible for the whole of the estate – the land, the grand house, and usually a village or town, which is part of the estate’s land.
If that’s him, then….
He isn’t just a worker on the estate like I first thought. Not a Ghillie. He’s the owner of all this.
This huge valley, the loch, the village that sprawled across the opposite side of it, and the grand house we had just had coffee in.
Finlay gets into the driver’s side again, but instead of starting the buggy right away, he turns fully in his seat toward me.
“Are you alright?” he asks, worry shaping his dark eyes, his brows drawing low over them.
“Yes,” I say, surprised to find that it’s true.
But…well, if I’m alright, I don’t need comfort.
I almost regret saying I’m fine. I could have pretended I needed another coffee and cake break, and….
“Are you sure?” Finlay reaches out. He hesitates for a moment, but his hand lands on my knee, where I still have it cocked up in front of me, my body facing him.
Even through my leggings, the warmth of his hand is like a pool of liquid gold on my skin.
