for someone to operate the lift. The effect was ruined, however, as she crossed in front of a ramp leading to an upper row of barrel racks, and heard a muffled shout.
Pausing in confusion, Merritt glanced toward the noise and saw a heavy barrel rolling toward her.
Chapter 4
BEFORE ANOTHER SECOND HAD passed, Merritt felt herself snatched up and hauled out of the barrel’s path. Momentum spun her in a half circle until she was brought abruptly against a tough, unyielding surface.
Dazedly she realized someone was holding her. Her senses gathered pleasurable impressions … the deep warmth of a masculine body … a sturdy arm around her back … a low murmur close to her ear.
“Easy, lass. I have you.”
A lock of her hair had slipped free of its pins. The little hat that had been attached to the top of her head with a comb had been knocked askew. Slightly disoriented, she looked up into Keir MacRae’s smiling blue eyes.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly. “I should have paid more attention to where I was going. How—how did you—”
“I’d just finished stocking a rack, and was coming to say good evening.” Gently MacRae stroked back the loose curl over her eyes, and caught the hat just as it began to slide off her head. He regarded it quizzically. “What’s this?”
“My hat.” It was little more than a knot of feathers and a puff of gauze affixed to a velvet base. Merritt took it from him and fumbled to fasten it back in place.
His lips twitched. “A hat is for shielding you from sun or rain. That wee thing is no’ a hat.”
Her toes curled deliciously at the soft teasing. “I’ll have you know it’s the latest fashion.”
“It reminds me of a lapwing.”
“A what?”
“A bonnie wee bird with a spray of feathers at the back of her head.” His arm was still behind her back, holding her securely. It felt too good, being this close to him. She realized the reason she’d been so cross with Luke was because he’d been right: She was heading for trouble. Running headlong toward it, in fact.
Luke had caught the stray barrel and was in the process of rolling it back up the ramp, while a foreman spoke sternly to a young warehouseman. The scarlet-faced young man, still in his teens, cast a distraught glance at Merritt. “I’m so very sorry, milady, I—I beg your pardon—”
“Dinna fash yourself, lad,” MacRae said easily, making certain Merritt was steady before letting go of her. “Her ladyship suffered no harm.”
“It was my fault,” Merritt said. “I should have been more alert.”
“No one’s alert at this hour,” Luke said, rolling the barrel back up the ramp and righting it with a grunt of effort. “Try rolling the barrel on the brim instead of the side,” he advised the young warehouseman. “It’s slower but easier to control. I’ll show you, but first—” He glanced at Merritt over his shoulder, the crease of a frown appearing between his dark brows. Reluctantly he asked, “MacRae, would you be willing to escort my sister out to her carriage?”
“Aye, of course,” MacRae said promptly.
Merritt smiled and reached out to take MacRae’s arm. “I’d rather take the stairs than the lift.”
As they proceeded down the long, enclosed staircase, Merritt told him about her meeting with the excise officer. MacRae was gratifyingly impressed by her negotiating skills, and thanked her for buying the extra time. They would need it, he said, as progress had been steady but slower than he would have liked.
“You must be exhausted,” Merritt said in concern.
“’Tis weary work,” he admitted, “but there’ll be an end of it tomorrow, and I’ll have a good sound sleep.”
“And after that?”
“Sales meetings the rest of the week, with businesses who are after buying whisky for independent bottling.”
“They would put their own labels on it?”
MacRae nodded, looking rueful. “It’s no’ something I’d prefer,” he admitted, “but it’s profitable, and there are many improvements needing to be made to the distillery.”
They stopped at the bottom of the stairwell, and Merritt turned to look up into his shadowed face.
Time for good-bye, she thought, and the forlorn feeling came over her again.
“It sounds as if your days are occupied,” she said, trying to sound casual, “but what about the evenings? Have you made plans? I could give a small, informal dinner at my house, and introduce you to some lovely people. I promise you would enjoy yourself—”
“No,” MacRae said hastily. “Thank you, but I’ll have been keeping company with new folk