Kidnapped in Dunvegan

7

As Molly had made an interesting proposal, I decided to take a look at something that Adam felt very strongly about. Maybe then the image I had of Adam wouldn't be as tarnished.

The distillery was situated halfway between the MacLeod's estate and Dunvegan. It was a long, low stone house. There was a white sign in front of the entrance with "Glenoak Distillery" in dark brown lettering. A group of about fifteen people were already waiting for the beginning of the guided tour. I entered the small shop which sold all sorts of souvenirs, but also had different colors and types of whiskey on offer and bought myself a ticket for the next guided tour.

I didn't have to wait long before Adam appeared in front of the tourists. His shoulders were tight and with a serious expression on his face he took a look around him, gave me a fleeting glance and then he greeted all those taking part in the tour. He was wearing a black suit jacket, a blue shirt underneath the jacket which accentuated his unusual eye color and a kilt in the MacLeod colors. He looked very good in this get-up. The suit jacket made him look even bigger.

"Dear visitors, my name is Adam MacLeod. Today, I will be taking you on a guided tour of our distillery and will reveal to you what makes the Scottish whiskey so special. At the end of our guided tour, we will meet up again and will try what I am about to show you." He looked at me directly, his eyes narrowing a little, and then turned away. "Please follow me."

He opened a double door made of light wood and the group followed him. Murmuring could be heard as we went down the first few steps into a long room in which enormous wooden barrels could be found that were fastened firmly into the ground. Adam turned towards the group and waited for the murmuring to stop.

"The Glenoak Distillery was formed in 1774. Back then distilleries were experiencing a number of highs and lows. The government attempted to limit the amount of whiskey that was distilled here in Scotland and granted exemption of taxes and levies without any real success. Even when it was banned to import Scottish whiskey to England, people still found ways of getting the water of life, as whiskey was known here, to England.

The whiskey gets its smoky taste from the peat which is distilled during the malting process. In the past, distilleries used to do the malting themselves, but now only five distilleries still do it independently. When Glenoak was reopened back in 1894, it was decided not to carry out the malting process here. It simply costs too much money and that's why the malting is done externally for us as it is for most other distilleries." Adam moved towards one of the huge barrels and leaned his hand against it. "The malted barley is then mixed in here with water and yeast. We usually have beer in these containers, very strong beer."

A few of the visitors laughed at Adam's comment and I asked myself how often had he experienced the people listening to him, laughing unbelievably at this point. He must have known this reaction, as he paused after the word beer and took the opportunity to give me a crooked grin that gave me a feeling of warmth throughout my body. I turned away embarrassed and looked at one of the six wooden barrels with interest.

Adam led us into the next room where there were numerous huge copper vats. He explained to us that the whiskey was distilled here twice. Then a liquid would come out at the end which would be so clear, just like spring water, that it was used to distill the whiskey.

"This is the warehouse," explained Adam and his blue eyes shined so bright that I got the feeling that his eyes alone were lighting up the dim warehouse, which was filled right up to the ceiling with wooden barrels. He stood still and let the visitors step past him into the warehouse. I was the last to enter and Adam placed himself right next to me. He was so close that I was able to feel the warmth of his body. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and I was sure that the tickling feeling on my lower arms had come from the fine hairs on his skin. When I took a step to one side, he laughed so silently that only I could hear it.

"Before these barrels made from Spanish oak were filled with whiskey, they contained bourbon. This is another piece of the puzzle that is important for the taste of single malt."

A man entered the warehouse behind us and remained standing next to Adam. "This is our master blender, the most important man of any distillery. Connor will explain to you why it is so important." Connor had reddish hair as far as I could see in the slightly dark room. He was quite big, but very lanky and now stepped up to the visitors. I wanted to follow him, but Adam took hold of my wrist and shook his head.

"Where do you think you're going?", he whispered and his eyes gazed into mine. I wanted to free myself from his grip, but Adam just held me tighter and pulled me into an alcove between the highly stacked barrels. He had a grin like a Cheshire cat on his face and pressed me with his body against a clammy wall. The alcove was just wide enough to prevent Adam's shoulders from bumping into the barrels. "Nobody can see us here and as they'll all be trying the best single malt whiskey on the whole island, they're not going to miss us."

I was breathing rapidly and was trying to push Adam away from me, but he just pinned me harder between the stone wall and his hard chest. "Let me go," I protested in silence, because I had lost my voice as his breath hit my face.

"So you're interested in whiskey are you?", he enquired and wrapped his hand around both my wrists. He lifted my arms above my head and pressed my hands against the cold stone just hard enough for the stone to press against my knuckles, but it wasn't painful.

I wanted to tell him that the tour was Molly's idea, but I didn't trust my voice, so I just nodded breathlessly.

He put his other hand on my waist and slowly inch by inch slid it up my ribs until his thumbs were pressing against the bottom of my breast. Shaking, I drew in some air. Adam's eyes were narrow slits and he was breathing just as heavily as I was. However, I doubted very much that he was also scared. Adam sank his mouth into my ear, his nose stroked along my ear muscle. "If you want to win this competition, you should keep away from me." His thumb stroked my erect nipple which made me lose control of my knees. They briefly gave way. "Even if you try to defend yourself, you can't resist me just like all the other women in this room."

I slid my hands between our bodies and pushed him away from me with all my might. Erotic heat may still have been flowing through me and every cell in my body longed to be touched by Adam, but the last sentence felt like a cold shower.

"Only you believe that!", I berated him and fled immediately from the alcove. My face went even redder when the visitors looked at me in astonishment and when Adam left the alcove behind me and refastened my blouse in front of everybody, I just wanted the ground to swallow me up in shame.

Instead, I held my head up high and went towards the group. "Thank you for telling me more about the production of these barrels, Mr. MacLeod," I said loudly. Connor raised his eyebrows and most of the tourists turned away from me in shame and all of a sudden were very busy trying the whiskey.

Adam bent over my shoulders from behind and whispered: "Only two more seconds and I would have put my tongue between those unbelievably full lips."

I swallowed heavily and pushed past an older woman to get to Connor who offered me a glass of dark whiskey with a knowing smile. I gratefully accepted and took a huge sip. I spluttered and had a coughing fit because the dark-brown liquid had almost burnt my throat. "Oh my god, what's that?" I croaked with tears in my eyes and gasping for breath.

"Our oldest malt." Connor gloated in a way that was written all over his face. The man in his forties was obviously making fun of me.

After the tour of the distillery, I swore to myself never to drink whiskey again. And to follow Adam's advice, I would stay out of his way. I would be best off locking myself in the gallery because I wasn't immune to this dangerous, grim man and the vulnerability he showed. I could maybe convince myself to resist him as I didn't want to be taken in by a man like him ever again. But the reality was different. He didn't need to touch me once. Just by looking at me with those eyes was enough to turn my body into a quivering mess. Why in the hell did he not behave in the same way as this morning?