She had a suspicion that a great number of them were getting drunk, which was not surprising, as she had realised there had been plenty of ale provided by the Duke with which they could celebrate.
There was the smell of roasting oxen, lamb and stag and in the dusk there was the light of fires being kindled over the moorlands opposite The Castle and in the valley beneath them.
There was also the skirl of the bagpipes, the cries of those dancing reels, of voices singing and sudden bursts of somewhat intoxicated laughter.
“They are certainly enjoying themselves!” Lord Hinchley commented as The Kilcraig rode away and they turned to enter The Castle.
Clola had noticed that Torquil ran for a little while beside Hamish’s pony, obviously unwilling to break off a conversation they were having.
