J essa shifted her weight from one foot to the other and noticed Emily was doing the same. “Do you think it would offend them if I offered to help?” She tipped a subtle nod at the elderly couple in front of them.
“Go for it. Offended or not, I’m ready to find the quickest way to the train station so we don’t miss our connection. The lady at the gate said this guy could help us better than anyone.”
Jessa eased up beside the frazzled pair of seniors whose same questions repeated over and over had become more like roaring shouts pelted at the employee behind the rental car counter. “Hi there,” she interrupted, doing her best to sound harmless and helpful. “I’m Jessa. Is there a problem?”
The young man behind the counter threw up his hands. “I ken they’re fair scunnered, but there’s no reason for that old roaster to threaten a square go. I offered them a stoater of a ker.”
The older gentleman growled and shook his fist, but the grandmotherly woman at his side caught hold of his arm and gave a sharp shake of her head. “Enough, Leonard,” she said overly loud, which made Jessa wonder if the fuming senior had trouble hearing. “Perhaps this nice young lady can translate for us.” The poor woman’s imploring look told Jessa everything she needed to know. The pair were exhausted and struggling with the Glaswegian employee’s slang.
Thankfully, she and Emily had come across this very topic on social media and researched it further since they were landing in Glasgow and then taking the train to Inverness where they intended to rent a car and drive to Seven Cairns. She picked up the keys and jingled them at the equally frustrated Scot behind the counter. “Which one?”
“Red. Far side. Third row. It’ll make’m look right minted, it will.”
She had a fair idea that the guy was very proud of the car and guaranteed it would make the weary couple look like they were rich. Jessa doubted if the oldsters cared about that particular point, but she would pass it on to them. “Have they signed everything? Can they take it and go?”
The cute in an overgrown puppy sort of way Glaswegian grinned. “Aye.”
She turned and waved Emily forward. “While I get Mr. and Mrs.—?
“Reedsbee,” the scowling gentleman said with a growl, his shaggy white mustache twitching as if he wanted to bite the next person who dared to speak to him.
“While I get Mr. and Mrs. Reedsbee into their car, you find out about the train.” She smiled at the pair who could be anywhere from their sixties to their nineties. It was hard to tell because it wasn’t the years that aged a person but their experiences. “Let’s find this pretty red car that he guarantees will make you look like the richest couple in Glasgow.”
“Great. We’ll get mugged,” the old man said as he hitched the strap of his suitcase higher on his shoulder.
“Stop it, Leonard.” His wife gave Jessa a relieved smile. “Thank you so very much for your help.”
Once they found the car and Jessa had helped them stow their bags, Mr. Reedsbee tried to press some money into her hand. “Here. For your trouble.”
She shook her head and backed away. “No. None of that now. You and Mrs. Reedsbee enjoy Scotland, okay?”
Still grumbling under his breath, he shook the wad of cash at her again. “You helped us out. Take it.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Reedsbee,” she said as she turned and walked away. “Don’t forget to drive on the left side of the road.”
“I know that,” he said with another snarl, then muttered more that she couldn’t hear.
Jessa smiled to herself as she headed back to the rental car center of the terminal, hoping the couple got some rest and enjoyed their trip. Good deeds always made her feel warm and fuzzy, but had this one really been all that good? She’d done it to get access to the guy behind the counter and his knowledge about the train. So did that mean it wasn’t good after all, because she’d done it for her own benefit? The thought wiped away her smile and made her sigh. Seems like there was always a dark side to everything.
Emily met her at the door and pointed at a sleek black limousine pulling up to the curb. “Guess what? We get a free ride in style to Glasgow Central as a hearty thank you for bailing out that guy so he could call his girlfriend about their date tonight. At least, I think that’s what he said. Anyway—we’re all set.”
The much happier Glaswegian brought their luggage out on the trolley and helped the limo driver load everything into the trunk.
“Hope yer stay’s a right peach!” he called out as he headed back inside.
“The last time I rode in a limo was senior prom, I think.” Jessa slid across the sumptuous leather seat, hugging her backpack and trying not to touch anything. She was grubby from travel, and the child seated in front of them on the plane had thrown his sippy cup at his mother and showered them all with a sticky substance that was some sort of fruit juice.
“This is nice,” Emily said, touching everything she could reach.
“You’re as bad as that toddler on the plane.”
“What is this?” Emily pulled open a door and gasped. “Look! All kinds of drinks and snackies.”
“Traffic’s no’ bad this time of day, ladies,” the driver said. “Should have ye there in no time at all.”
“I think that’s code for leave stuff alone ,” Jessa whispered to Emily while snatching away the soda and crisps Emily had taken from the minibar. She returned the items to where they belonged, then threatened her friend with a stern shake of her head. “We’ll eat when we get there. The lady said she’d stocked the cottage with enough essentials to get us started.”
“It’s a little over three hours to Inverness,” Emily said. “I’m starving.”
“We’ll grab something at the station. Surely, there’ll be vending machines there. If not, I’ve got a nutrition bar you can eat on the train.” Jessa hugged her backpack tighter, her anxiousness ratcheting even higher than before they’d boarded the plane back in Jersey. They were in Scotland—men in kilts, bagpipes, and adorably hairy cows freaking Scotland. She had spent most of her hard-earned savings to spend a month here because…Well, because she was a lunatic, she guessed. What in blue blazes had she been thinking? She shifted in the seat and happened to meet the driver’s amused gaze in the rearview mirror. The connection with him squeezed the air out of her lungs, making her choke and gasp. His uniform had somehow disappeared, replaced with clothing that made him look like he belonged in some historical reenactment.
“Jess! What the hell?” Emily pounded her on the back. “Are you all right?
“It’s him,” she wheezed while nodding at the driver.
Emily glanced at the man, then frowned and leaned closer. “Who?” she whispered.
“Mr. MacSexy.” Jessa thumped her chest, fighting to calm down. How could she have missed it when he’d held the door for them while they climbed into the limo? How could she not recognize that face she’d studied for the past month on the app? And how in blue blazes had he changed clothes while driving? Was he some sort of freaking magician? “It’s him. And he changed clothes. It’s him from the tarot dating app.”
“I think that motion sickness patch is making you hallucinate.” Emily took out her phone and started texting. “I’m going to wake up Papa and ask if that’s a side effect.”
Jessa risked looking at the driver again and shuddered with an eerie chill. He was back in his uniform and unquestionably handsome, but old enough to be her grandfather and most definitely not the Mr. MacSexy who always glowered at her from the app on her phone.
“Yeah,” she weakly mumbled as she sagged back into the buttery soft seat. “Find out if hallucinations are a side effect.”
“Papa says, possibly, but it’s more likely due to anxiety and travel fatigue.” Emily texted a reply, her thumbs flying as she messaged her parent again. She stared at the phone, waiting. When it softly dinged with another message, her eyes narrowed, and she nodded, then reached over and peeled the patch off Jessa's neck. “Just to be on the safe side, he said.”
“What if I puke on the train?” Jessa rubbed the spot where the patch had been stuck behind her ear.
“Then you puke on the train.” Emily fixed her with a stern look. “Or would you rather choke until you pass out because of a hallucination?”
“Puking sounds the better of the two.”
“You need to try to relax, Jess. I’m worried about you.” Emily rubbed her back, making Jessa wince as she thumped her between the shoulder blades. “Everything is going to be all right. We’re here for a glorious month, and when we get home, you’ll be safely nested in the loft above the garage. That’s not so bad now, is it?”
“Almost there, ladies,” the driver said. “Is yer friend there all right, miss? She’s gone a bit peely-wally.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Jessa hurried to say before Emily could answer. “I think the long flight’s catching up with me.”
The driver responded with a polite nod, but Jessa noticed he kept glancing at her in the rearview mirror. Poor man. He probably thought she was about to throw up all over the expensive leather interior or pass out, and he’d have to deal with getting her medical assistance or clean up her mess.
She sat straighter, forced a smile, and pulled in a deep breath to put his mind at ease. Emily was right. She needed to relax and tackle—no— enjoy each moment as it came. This free ride was very nice, much better than a taxi or an Uber. It was like floating on a cloud as the vibrant buildings and busy sidewalks of Glasgow slipped by beyond the tinted windows.
Just as she was breathing easier, they arrived at Central Station. After unloading their luggage, the driver tipped his hat, then eyed Jessa a moment longer and winked before getting back inside the limo and driving away.
His wink sent a tingle through her that lasted far longer than it should have. She stared after the car with the definite feeling that something important—she had no idea what—was dangling just beyond her reach. “I think I’m losing my mind.”
“Anxiety and travel fatigue, remember?” Emily nudged her along. “Come on. This place is huge. We better get a move on and find where we’re supposed to be.”
Jessa brought up the ticket information on her phone. “According to this, we’re going to have to change trains at Glasgow Queen Street. Looks like we should’ve gone through there instead of starting here at Glasgow Central.”
“Yeah, well, live and learn.” Emily squinted up at the boards. “What number was it again?”
“Four zero five. They estimated it would be Platform Four.”
“It is.” Emily pointed. “That way.”
After stopping at a shop and loading up on snacks and energy drinks, they scanned their tickets at the platform and discovered that, somehow, they had been upgraded to first class. A smiling attendant confirmed it and pointed them in the right direction.
“See?” Emily said. “Scotland is already bringing us good juju. ”
Jessa settled into the roomy seat in front of a wide window and patted the table in front of her. “This is nice. Shame we have to lose it when we switch to Glasgow Queen Street.”
“Didn’t you catch what he said? We’re first class all the way to Inverness.” Emily set her energy drink on the table and tore into her bag of chips. “I wonder why they call them crisps?” she said while studying the package and crunching loudly .
“From the sound of it, probably because that’s what they are. You don’t find it strange that we mysteriously won the railway ticket lottery and got upgraded to first-class seats?” Jessa welcomed good luck whenever it came, but lately, anytime something good happened, something bad quickly followed.
Emily shook the bag and held it out to her. “Eat some crisps and be thankful.”
“I think I’d better hold off on eating until we get to the cottage.” She jumped and grabbed hold of the table as the train slid into motion.
“Papa should’ve prescribed you something stronger than motion sickness patches,” Emily said. “You’re a wreck.”
“Sorry.” Jessa felt guilty about casting a pall over the trip that would surely give them memories that lasted a lifetime. She pulled in a deep breath, then let it ease out while assuming a pose of serenity. “My calm is coming. Sometimes, it’s just a little late to the party.”
“Wow, by the time we get comfortable, it’ll be time to switch trains.” Emily stuffed the half-eaten bag of chips into her carry-on and gulped down her energy drink.
“Your heart is going to explode if you keep chugging those like that,” Jessa said as she read the label of her unopened can. “You should’ve gotten one of these. Mine’s healthier.”
“There is a time to be healthy and a time to be awake.” Emily held up her phone and grinned. “Selfie to show we’ve arrived in bonnie Scotland? You refused at the airport.”
“Fine, but better make it quick. Looks like we’re pulling into the station to make our switch.” Jessa rose and leaned across the table so she and Emily would be cheek to cheek in front of the window. She held the smile until Emily plopped back down into her seat and started tapping on her phone with blinding speed.
“All posted,” she said as the train slid to a smooth stop. “Just in time.”
Jessa rose and secured her denim backpack onto the handle of her rolling suitcase. As she wheeled it out into the aisle, she halted and stared at a man up ahead who scowled back at her. It was him again. Mr. MacSexy. Dressed in those clothes that had to be from a historical reenactment, a travel agency ad, or a movie set. Unable to move, barely able to breathe, at least she didn’t crumble into a gasping mess this time. She closed her eyes tightly, then slowly opened them. The man was gone. She stretched to see around the passengers getting off the train, trying to find him again, but he was nowhere to be found. She raced to catch up with him.
“Jess! Wait up,” Emily called out.
As they stepped onto the platform, Jessa debated laying her hard-sided suitcase on its side and standing on it so she could see farther.
“Jessa!” Emily sounded like a frustrated mother trying to keep track of her overactive child. “What is going on with you?”
Jessa hurried to shake her head. “Nothing. Just thought I saw someone we knew.”
Emily frowned. “Who?” Suspicion dripped from that one word.
“Josh from the internet cafe,” she said, knowing that if she told Emily the truth, it would throw her into a panic and cause a ripple effect through the entire Mithers family. “He mentioned planning a trip to Scotland the last time he worked on my laptop.”
“Liar.” Emily narrowed her eyes, fueling the accusation with concern. “You thought you saw Mr. MacSexy again, didn’t you?”
“Come on.” Jessa ignored the question and threaded her way through the crowd. “We don’t want to miss our connection. The other platform’s just up ahead, and people are already loading.” A hard tug on the strap of her backpack pulled her to a stop.
“We’re not going a step farther until you fess up.”
“I’m just tired. Once I’ve napped and adjusted to the time difference, I’ll be fine.” She forced a reassuring grin that would’ve done any award-winning actress proud. “If I’m not, you can dunk me in those healing waters until I come up giddy for an adventure.”
“Don’t think I won’t.”
Jessa didn’t doubt for a minute that Emily would take great joy in sousing her under until she gave in and embraced all the good juju that Scotland had to offer.
* * *
MacAlester Keep
Scottish Highlands
Year of our Lord 1785
“Old Mairwen is here. Wants a word with ye.”
“Dinna call her old, lest ye want yer willy cursed to shrivel and fall off.” Grant MacAlester leaned back in his chair and rubbed his tired, gritty eyes. He’d stared at the logbooks for hours, making certain he and the clan had not been cheated on the latest haul of tea, tobacco, and brandy.
“Ye ken why she’s come, then?” Henry Skelper, more a brother than a friend, shifted in place until the floorboards groaned under his massive weight. He was such a bear of a man that he could toss Ben Nevis over his shoulder as if it were naught but a pebble rather than the mightiest peak in all the Highlands.
“If I were the bettin’ sort…” Grant stopped scrubbing his weary eyes and let his hands drop to the arms of his chair, “and I’ve been known to place a wager or two. I’d say the clan has nettled her into speaking with me about taking another wife. Some seem overly concerned about an heir for the earldom.” He jabbed a finger at Henry. “And if ye call me Lord Suddie , I’ll skin ye.”
“But ye are Lord Suddie,” Mairwen said from the doorway.
An eerie shiver raced through him. It was always the same whenever the white witch, as Grant always thought of her, appeared on his doorstep. “Be that as it may,” he said as he stood out of respect, “I prefer not to be addressed as such.”
The petite, silvery-haired matron had eyes such a startling shade of blue that they made the clearest of skies seem dim. She narrowed them at him long enough to set his teeth on edge, then made her way into his office, moving with such effortless grace she seemed to float across the floor. “And the clan has not nettled me into coming here. I came of my own accord.”
“Ye have the hearing of a wee owl.” Grant motioned to the chair in front of his desk and gave a nod for Henry to leave. He couldn’t resist chuckling as the massive man, who feared nothing except Mairwen, almost tripped over his own feet in his hurry to get out the door. “What did ye do to poor ol’ Henry this time?”
“Do?”
“Aye. Did ye not just see him run as if his tail was on fire?”
She rippled a dismissive shrug. “I merely asked after his health. He seems a bit less of late.”
“I see.” Grant hadn’t seen a change in the man, but he refused to waste time arguing the point. There was only one matter he wished to make clear. “I’ll no’ be taking another wife, Mairwen.”
“Why not?”
“How many times have we talked about this?” He ambled over to the cabinet in the corner and poured two glasses of whisky. She was the only woman he had ever met who could drink him into a blethering fool while she remained as sober as if she’d had nothing stronger than tea. He offered her the glass. “From one of the older barrels. Tell me what ye think of it, m’lady.”
She took a sip, then grew thoughtful while holding it on her tongue. Raising the drink closer to the oil lamp on his desk, she swirled the golden liquid to catch the light of the flame. “Verra nice. Fine color and smooth on the tongue. ’Twill fetch a good price should ye decide to offer it to yer customers.” She took another sip, then slid the glass onto his desk and relaxed back into her chair. “I would move it among the elite with the caveat that it was made exclusively for them, ye ken? Play to their bloated sense of self-importance. Greater profit that way.” Her infuriating calmness as she studied him warned she was not done with him yet. “Now tell me, why will ye not consider taking another wife? A love match this time.”
“Mairwen.”
“Rumbling my name in that warning tone neither frightens nor convinces me to leave ye be.” She barely tilted her head to one side and smiled. “And I remember all yer prior arguments, so let’s not waste our time by repeating them, ye ken?”
“I dinna believe in love. Therefore, why bother?” And that was the truth of it. He had never loved. Well, he had. But that was a different sort of love, love for his clan, for his friends, for kith and kin. “And ye ken as well as I how my first marriage, the arranged one, ended. We will not travel that path again. ’Twas far more trouble than pleasure.”
“Ye are a stubborn man, Grant MacAlester.”
That made him smile. “Aye. So ye tell me at every opportunity.”
Her expression daunting, she rose and leaned over his desk, making him itch to push his chair back to escape her. He tightened his fists and forced himself to hold fast and hide his leeriness.
She spoke quietly, as if knowing her words always thundered through him. “What if I told ye Seven Cairns has found that part of yer heart ye’ve been missing all these years?”
He swallowed hard and sucked in a deep breath, suddenly starving for air. Nothing chilled him more than the mention of Seven Cairns. ’Twas an unholy place in the eyes of the church, and Grant knew why. It wasn’t a simple weaver’s village, and neither was Mairwen a harmless weaver. Seven Cairns was one of the holiest of places in the Highlands to those who still followed the auld ways. He’d heard the tales of the place told around the fires on long winter evenings, and somewhere, deep in his soul, he knew those tales were not just stories.
“My heart is whole,” he said. “It beats in my chest just fine.”
She pushed away from his desk and meandered around the cluttered room, idly touching a book here or a bauble there as though committing the place to memory. “And what of her from yer dreams?” she asked with a slyness that made him swallow hard again. “Do ye not wish to meet her?”
“I dinna ken of whom ye speak.”
Without even glancing at him, she huffed a snort of amusement. “Dinna lie to me, my fine laird. ’Tis insulting.” She pulled a book from its shelf, opened it, and slowly paged through it. “Only the truth between us, remember? I have never lied to ye or any of yer clan.” She thumped the book shut and returned it to its place among the others. “I have seen her and think her a lovely lass. Tiny but mighty, what with that coppery hair of hers that shines as though newly minted. Reminds me of the Goddess Bride herself.”
The woman he had dreamed of for the past few months appeared in his mind as if commanded to do so by Mairwen. “She is not tiny,” he said, shifting in place at the hard rising that the vision of the enticing lass always gave him.
Mairwen ceded with a nod. “True. Her shape is bountiful for one so short in stature.” The witch’s smile became all too knowing. “She would keep ye warm on the coldest of nights and be a fine mother to yer many sons.”
“She is naught but a dream.” He refilled his glass and downed it, welcoming the burn in his gullet. “If ye need more supplies at Seven Cairns, ye have but to send a messenger, ye ken? There is no need to risk coming here yerself.”
“Our supplies are ample for now.” Mischief flashed in Mairwen’s eyes. “I came about the missing piece of yer heart and to have a bit of amusement by stirring the priest’s blood. He canna cause me harm.”
Of that, Grant had no doubt. “Aye, but the man can be a verra large pain in my arse.”
Mairwen threw back her head and laughed. “Ye always bring me such joy, MacAlester. ’Tis why I am determined to see ye settled and happy.”
“My happiness is my own concern.” He didn’t wish to be rude, but she needed to understand that on this, he refused to change his mind.
“So ye mean to stand there and tell me that if I brought ye this lady, ye would refuse to make her feel welcome here at yer keep? Ye would deny her yer clan’s hospitality?”
He found himself tightening his buttocks as if he was a lad and his grandmam was about to smack his arse for him. The ridiculous reaction unsettled him. Bloody hell, he was a laird and a Scottish earl—not to mention one of the most successful smugglers in the Highlands. “If that be all, Mairwen?”
She offered him a graceful nod. “That will be all once ye find the bollocks to answer my question.”
He bowed his head to keep from baring his teeth and bellowing something disrespectful at the woman whom he had no doubt could turn him into a feckin’ toad if she so wished. After struggling to rein himself in, he lifted his head and squared his shoulders. “My clan is hospitable enough. They and I always make our guests feel welcome.”
“My, my, when did ye become such an expert in diplomatic cowardice?”
Jaw-clenching pride burned its way up his spine. “I am not now nor ever have been a coward.”
“Except when it comes to women.” She angled her chin higher, daring him to deny it.
And deny it, he would. “I am not afraid of women.”
“It pleases me to hear that.” She meandered back to where she’d placed her unfinished whisky on his desk and downed it. “Then ye’ll have no trouble preparing to receive the most important guest of yer lifetime, aye?”
He tensed to keep from groaning aloud.
“Aye?” she asked again, the sheer enjoyment of his misery gleaming in her eyes.
“When?”
Her smile widened. “Soon, my laird. Verra soon.”