Free Passion and Plaid - Her Highland Hero (Scottish Historical Romance) by Anya Karin Page A

for
bed, she’d gotten the distinct impression that even though she knew things were
not quite as they seemed, it was really worse than she imagined.
    “Miss Moore?”
    Pulling at her hair, Kenna answered, “Ach, sorry,
I got lost in thought.”
    “Just like my Laura,” he chuckled under his
breath. “Come down when you’re dressed. I’ve got some new sausages for you to
try and...something to tell you before the great crowd arises and needs food to
fill their aching bellies.”
    She listened to his heavy footsteps descend the
wooden stairs, thought briefly of home once again, and then of Gavin as she
dressed and touched the thistle about her neck. Something about Duggan’s tone
had unnerved Kenna tremendously. His tone was strange, she thought. All the joy
was gone from his voice; there was none of his normal boisterousness. He
sounded drained of life.
    “Place is a damnable mess. But that’s how these
days will be. Canna complain much with all the money I’ll make.”
    Kenna pushed an over-turned, empty bottle off a
stool and sat. “How many people came in?”
    “This inn has thirty rooms. Almost all of them are
full, and most beds have two people in ‘em. The stables are full of both horses
and men, and you canna take a step outside the inn without stepping on
someone. It’ll be this way until the festival’s passed.”
    “I hadn’t realized I was hungry until I smelled
that,” she said as Duggan put a pair of sausages into a pan and they sizzled.
“It’s wonderful.”
    “They’re the best I’ve ever had. They’ve got
little bits of apple in the sausage.” He tossed a towel backwards over his
shoulder and sliced a piece of black bread off a great hunk of it. “Fried?”
    “If it please you. Truth be told, you’ve got me
worried, Duggan,” Kenna said.
    “Aye, fried it is. Tea?”
    “I was thinking I’d finally relent and try some of
your coffee.” She decided to do that not because she actually wanted any, but
because Duggan had been so insistent that she thought it would make him happy.
    “Oh, fine then,” he said. Her plan worked
momentarily at least.
    She picked up the tiny cup and sniffed the black
liquid and would have put it down if not for Duggan’s obvious excitement at her
trying it. Touching it to her lips, Kenna took the smallest sip she could
imagine.
    “Well?”
    “It’s...not as terrible as I imagined. Actually, I
kind of like it. It’s very bitter, but-”
    “Here, try this,” he said as he dropped a lump of
sugar in the drink. “Some people like it sweeter.”
    “Oh, yes,” she said, laughing. “Much better. I
didn’t expect to enjoy this at all, but something about it is quite nice.”
    “Well, good. The sausages are quite nice too, but
there’s something I’ve to tell you before anyone shows up for breakfast.”
    “What is it? I noticed you were worried last
night.”
    “Aye,” he said, leaning close. “It’s...I found out
more about the burning what goes on every day. As it happens, he’s only burning
scraps.”
    “But what about the fires on the hills?”
    Duggan shook his head. “That’s grass. He’s burning
off the meadows and so on. Sometimes it gets out of control and goes after the
clumps of wood. But the smell is from burning off bark and scraps. Our mayor
has a secondary business interest.”
    “I’m lost,” Kenna admitted.
    “He’s selling the wood.”
    “What? To who?”
    “Someone who is presently in town from down south.
He’s been stockpiling it for quite some time, having it cut to planks, and
ageing it. The man buying it is a shipwright who runs a warehouse based out of Manchester.”
    “So not only is he clear cutting everything to
build a plantation, he’s financing a shipping house?”
    “Aye. And there’s more, I think. From the way this
fella was talking, Willard may even have stake in the company. He said that our
friendly mayor is selling the wood for next to nothing.”
    “But why? Shipping companies are