Page 48 of A Scot on the Rocks
“She knows you’re the ghost.”
Jamie picked the eggs up and started back toward the warmer chamber. “She believes in the ghost.”
“She believes in free repairs.”
“The ghost is generous.”
“And apparently underfed and badly dressed.”
“Being dead is harder than folk realize.”
Olivia followed him, laughing. “How many people are involved in this?”
“In what?”
“The whole haunted castle thing.”
Jamie entered the chamber, set the basket on the scarred table, and began lifting the eggs out one at a time to make certain none had cracked. “Involved is a strong word.”
“How many?”
“Enough.”
“That still isn’t a number.”
“It is in smuggling.”
The smile faded slightly from Olivia’s face.
He shrugged. “You wanted to know why the haunting matters, that’s why.”
He crossed to the wooden chest against the inner wall, drew the key from the leather cord beneath his shirt, and unlocked the lid. When he lifted it, bottles lay tightly packed in straw beneath the folded cloth.
Olivia came closer, and her brows rose. “You hide the whisky in the haunted castle.”
Jamie closed the lid again. “Would ye search a place everyone in the glen believes belongs to the dead?”
“I would.”
He looked up to see her eyes sparkling. There was much more to the widow Bennett than she let on.
“I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“Most excise men do after midnight.”
She folded her arms and leaned one hip against the table. “How much whisky do you keep here?”
“Enough.”
Jamie locked the chest and tucked the key beneath his shirt, expecting more questions and perhaps disapproval, but Olivia only looked around the room again.
“The ponies yesterday were carrying whisky. And the men on the road were excise men.”
“Aye.”
She pursed her lips tapping her chin with a finger. “You’re a whisky smuggler and the whole village is in on it.”
Jamie leaned one hip against the table. “Aye.”
