quite easily be fanned into a flame of genuine friendship.”
“For anyone else, the blood might be too thin at this point to claim kinship,” Duff said. “But not for the MacCallisters. Sure and we are as kin as if ye were my brother.” He glanced over at Rosanna. “And a more beautiful and talented sister I could scarcely envision.”
Rosanna extended her hand across the table and, once more, Duff raised it to his lips for a kiss.
After they enjoyed their dinner, Duff took them to the White Horse Pub. Duff was greeted warmly by nearly every customer in the pub. Ian was behind the counter, and he smiled broadly as he saw Duff arrive with Andrew and Rosanna.
“Ian, my friend, may I introduce to you my kith and kin from New York?” Duff said.
Ian, who had been drying glasses, put the towel over his shoulder and extended his hand toward Andrew. “Sure and ’tis a pleasure to meet the American cousins of my dear friend, and soon to be son-in-law, Duff MacCallister,” he said. He looked toward Rosanna. “And what a beautiful woman you be,” he said. “’Tis no wonder you are so successful in the theater.”
“Are all Scots so gallant?” Rosanna said.
Ian laughed. “’Tis our way,” he said.
“Where is Skye?” Rosanna asked. “I must meet my cousin’s fiancee.”
“She is there waiting on yon table,” Duff said, pointing her out.
“Oh, my,” Rosanna said. “What a beautiful young woman she is. Duff, I can see why you are so smitten with her.”
“As can I,” Andrew said. “What I can’t see is why she should be smitten with you.”
Andrew’s jibe drew a laugh as Ian put mugs of ale on the bar in front of each of them.
Andrew reached into his pocket for money, but Ian held up his hand. “This is on the house,” he said. “Surely I can furnish a beer to m’ own cousins now, can’t I?”
“Cousins?” Andrew said. He looked at Duff. “Did I not go far enough in my genealogy research?”
“We aren’t cousins yet,” Ian said. “But when my Skye marries Duff, ’tis cousins-in-law we shall be.”
Andrew chuckled. “I suppose that is true, isn’t it?”
Skye returned to the bar then and was introduced to Andrew and Rosanna.
“’Tis most pleased I am to meet such famous theater people,” Skye said with a little curtsey as she greeted the pair.
“It is true that we strut and fret our brief hour upon the stage,” Andrew said. “But thus far, fame has eluded us.”
“He is being modest, Skye,” Duff said. “You should have seen the high esteem in which they were held by the people of Glasgow when I visited there to see their show.”
“The people of Glasgow were uncommonly kind,” Rosanna said. “Certainly they treated us with more deference than we deserve.”
“I think not,” Skye said. “I read of you in our newspaper. I have the article here.” Skye reached under the bar, then pulled out a newspaper that was carefully folded to display the article that held her interest.
She began to read:
Campbell’s Musical Saloon has occasioned many theatricals and musicales of note, but rarely have the boards been so crowned as to be trod by that magnificent pair of thespians, Andrew and Rosanna MacCallister. Brother and sister they, the MacCallisters, have long been the object of attention and admiration in New York. Should one be fortunate enough to attend a performance in which these two appear, they will indeed regard the evening of entertainment as time well spent.
She put the paper down. “If the paper writes that of you, then you are truly famous.”
“You read very well, young lady,” Andrew said. “You would make a fine thespian yourself.”
Skye blushed at the flattery.
At that moment Sheriff Angus Somerled came into the tavern and much of the laughter and conversation grew quiet as he stood just inside the door, perusing the place with dark and brooding eyes.
“Skye, lass, see if we can be of service to the sheriff,” Ian said quietly.
Skye approached the sheriff, then curtseyed. “Sheriff, may we serve you?” she asked.
Sheriff Somerled looked over at Duff, then pointed at him.
“Is it true that, last week, you fought with my sons for no reason?” he asked.
“That is not true,” Duff replied.
“How can you say it is not true when with my own eyes I saw the bruises you inflicted upon them?”
“I am not saying that I didn’t fight with them,” Duff said. “What I dispute is that I fought with them for no reason. I fought with them because they attacked me.”
“There are three of them and but one of you, yet they are the injured ones. Would you be tellin’ me, Duff MacCallister, that they attacked you first, and yet you bested the three of them? Because that I am not believing.”
“You should believe it, Sheriff, for Duff is speaking only the truth,” Ian said. “All who were here that night will bear witness to the fact that your sons attacked MacCallister.”
“Aye, Sheriff, ’tis true enough,” one of the other patrons said. “Your sons started the fight.”
The sheriff said nothing in direct reply, but a blood vessel in his temple began to throb, a visual display of his
