J essa dashed into the pub with Emily on her heels. Laughing, she paused in the entryway, shaking the rain from her hair and brushing the water off her sleeves. “Sorry, Ems. I thought for sure we could make it before the sky opened up and dumped buckets on us.”
“Ugh.” Disgusted as a drenched cat, Emily pushed around her and headed for the restrooms. “I’m going to go dry off.”
The mental picture of Emily crouching under the hot air hand dryer made Jessa snicker. “I’ll get us a table.”
“Did I not tell ye to go by Boyd’s and get ye a pair of brollies?” Lilias, co-owner of the pub with her brother Lyal, called out from behind the bar. She shook her head as well as her finger, making the sheen of her sleek blonde pixie cut shimmer even brighter under the hanging lights that looked like golden starbursts. “Ye’re in Scotland now, lass. Today’s rain is tomorrow’s whisky, and we love it. Ye must always be prepared.”
Instead of choosing a table, Jessa opted to sit at the bar and chat with Lilias. Strangely enough, she already felt an unusual affinity to everyone she’d met at Seven Cairns. Kind of like long-lost friends she never realized she had and was just now getting reacquainted with. Well…except for Keeva and Evan. She was still trying to wrap her head around those two. They were nice enough, just a bit on the odd side. Not that anything was wrong with odd. She’d worn that label a few times herself.
“And what are my lovely Americans up to this fine day?” Lilias set a cup of coffee in front of Jessa, and a small teapot and an empty cup at the place beside her for when Emily finished drying off in the ladies’ room.
“Emily was going to dunk me in the healing waters for good luck, but she might be rethinking that right about now. She hates getting wet and is probably sitting under the hot air hand dryer as we speak.” Jessa laughed and then sipped the best coffee she’d ever had in her life, a rich, full-bodied blend with just a hint of vanilla and barely enough cream to lighten it. “This is the perfect cup. Do you always remember what every customer likes?”
“Most times.” Lilias slanted a brow at Emily as she joined them. “I told ye to get yerself a brolly at Boyd’s.”
“Well, we can’t go for an umbrella today. That man would triple the price and sell us all sorts of other stuff we don’t need.” Emily poured herself a steaming cup of tea, took a sip, then shook her head. “I have never met such a con man in my life, but you can’t help but love him. That old guy is more entertaining than any reality show I’ve ever seen. The stories he comes up with to sell you something are amazing and impossible to resist.”
“That’s our Boyd. His father was the same. Trained him well, he did.” Lilias cocked her head as if listening to something only she could hear. “Got a delivery in the back. Excuse me, ladies.” She hopped down from the step that ran the length of the back of the bar and disappeared through the door to the side of the wide mirror lined with glass shelves loaded down with bottles of alcohol.
“You two were laughing about me hating to get wet, weren’t you?” Emily glared at Jessa with mock sternness, but amusement flashed in her velvety brown eyes.
“We short people have to stick together,” Jessa said. “She and I are the same height.”
“You stood back to back to compare?”
Jessa laughed, then took another sip of her gorgeous coffee. “No. I told her I was five feet tall on a good day with good lighting, and she said she was the same.” She dipped a piece of shortbread in her coffee, bit into it, and closed her eyes, reveling in the luscious, sweet butteriness melting on her tongue. “And we weren’t laughing at you. She asked what we’d planned for today, and I told her that initially, you were going to dunk me in the springs for good luck, but you might rethink that because of the weather.”
“I had definitely planned on you being the one to get soaked to the skin today, not me.” Emily munched on a piece of shortbread, her eyes slowly narrowing as they always did whenever she was deep in thought. “Other than the healing waters and a massage, we’ve enjoyed most of what Seven Cairns has to offer. Been to the bookshop, the treat shop, and even took a tour of the bakery and the distillery. Maybe we need to widen our sphere of exploration. This is the Highlands. Even if we just travel along the coastline, I’m sure there’s plenty to see.”
Lightning flashed, lighting up the windows. A ground-shaking boom of thunder followed. “Wow.” Jessa swiveled on the barstool and eyed the rain sluicing down the multiple squares of the old bubbly glass of the windows. Narrow strips of wood that must’ve taken a steady hand to paint that glossy black separated the small panes that, once put together, created a showcase of antique windows that filled the entire front wall. “I’m not so sure about driving in this. Especially while trying to stay on the wrong side of these narrow roads. Remember how interesting things got a time or two on the way up from Inverness?”
“I did not see all those sheep until we rounded the turn. At least I didn’t hit any of them.”
Jessa grinned. “I got an awesome picture of you in the middle of them, trying to herd them off the road.”
“If you post that anywhere, you won’t make it back to Jersey alive.”
“And here Lilias assured me the two of ye were the best of friends,” said a lilting voice from behind the bar.
Jessa turned back and faced the bar. “Uhm…Hi.”
An older woman, dressed in a colorful shawl and dress and looking as though she belonged behind a crystal ball, smiled at her. “I am Mairwen. Sorry if I startled the two of ye. Lilias told me to come through and meet ye in person.”
“Mairwen? As in the owner of the cottage who sends the nicest emails Mairwen?” Emily asked.
The lovely lady bowed her head and tugged her wrap, a dark blue, knobby weave splashed with rich burgundy flowers, closer around her narrow shoulders. “One and the same.”
“I’m Emily, and this is Jessa.”
Mairwen’s startling blue eyes twinkled with what was surely a lively personality as she turned to Jessa. “And how are ye finding our fine Scottish summer?”
“I love the rain. Always have.” Jessa shot a grin at Emily. “Ems is the one who hates getting wet. She was either a hen or a cat in a past life.”
“Why a hen?” Mairwen asked, her puzzlement clear.
“I had a friend in college whose grandmother always said, madder than a wet hen . I took that to mean chickens don’t like getting wet.”
“Must be American chickens,” Mairwen said with a laugh. “A Scottish chicken would be angry all the time were that the case.”
“We’ll have to research that, Jess,” Emily said, sarcasm dripping from her tone.
Jessa grinned, knowing her friend’s mood would improve once she had thoroughly dried out and finished her favorite tea that Lilias had blended just for her. “Maybe you could suggest something for us to do today,” she said to Mairwen. “We were going for massages and to visit the healing springs, but Emily doesn’t want to get soaked again, and we can’t afford to go to Boyd’s for umbrellas while it’s raining.”
“Aye, ye’ve the right of that. That man would skin ye of yer last pence if given half a chance.” Mairwen resettled her colorful shawl again and seemed to grow thoughtful. “Some of the healing springs originate in the caves, ye ken? I could show ye the way to one of them after yer massages.” She offered them a wily smile and lightly tapped her chest. “After all, I am the main massage therapist, and my sanctuary connects to the caves.”
“Well, there you go then,” Jessa told Emily. “After our nice relaxing massages, you can dunk me for luck, and then we’ll head back to the cottage to enjoy the veggie stew I started in the slow cooker.”
Mairwen gave Jessa a look she didn’t quite understand. “Ye enjoy cooking, do ye?”
“I enjoy dabbling. Sometimes my experiments end up outside for the strays, and I eat peanut butter and jelly.”
“Strays?”
“She feeds every cat, dog, raccoon, and any other creature that shows up hungry on her doorstep,” Emily said before selecting another shortbread cookie and dipping it in her tea. She ducked her head. “And I should not have said that. Sorry.”
“Why?” Mairwen asked.
“Because it makes me sad,” Jessa said, her bright mood dipping with thoughts about the troubles back home. “The neighbors promised to feed everyone while I was in Scotland, but I don’t think they’ll do it after I move.”
“They will,” Emily said with a squeeze of her arm. “Mrs. Garducci always keeps her word.”
“I know. I’m going to miss having her as a neighbor.”
“People come into our lives and then leave once we’ve learned what we are meant to learn from them,” Mairwen said, her tone gentle but firm. “All we can do is cherish the memories we make with them while they are with us.”
“Brighten up now,” Emily told Jessa. “It’s your favorite sort of day, raining buckets. We’re here in Scotland, and we’re about to enjoy what I’m sure will be a phenomenal massage.”
“That it will be.” Mairwen nodded. “Phenomenal and then some.”
“And then a dip in the healing waters for good luck and help in finding my Mr. MacSexy,” Jessa said, determined to enjoy the day and not wallow in self-pity.
Mairwen laughed. “I dinna believe I am familiar with that clan. Are they reported to live in the Highlands?”
Jessa pulled out her phone, tapped on the app, then tapped again until her handsome, broody Highlander glowered at her. She showed him to Mairwen. “This is Mr. MacSexy, and I’m trying to find him because he keeps popping up as a match for me on this tarot dating app. You wouldn’t happen to know him, would you?”
“Ahh.” Mairwen nodded her approval. “Very bonnie indeed.” Then she tilted her head and eyed Jessa. “And he listed his name as Mr. MacSexy ?”
“No, that’s the name Ems and I gave him because there was no name or profile for him.” Jessa closed the app and tucked her phone back into the tiny crossbody bag she always used when she traveled. “Seriously, you wouldn’t happen to know him, would you?” As soon as the question left her lips for the second time, she felt silly. Just because Mairwen lived in Scotland didn’t mean she knew every person there. Jessa laughed away the notion. “Never mind. He’s probably an AI image built into the app by Scotland’s tourism board or something.”
“A…I?”
“Artificial intelligence. These days, it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s not.”
Mairwen laughed. “I leave those things to Keeva. She’s better suited to them than I am.” She nodded at the windows while motioning for them to follow her through the door behind the bar. “Come. The rain has let up to a wee drizzle. Ye willna get too wet getting to my truck. I’m parked in the back alleyway.”
“We need to pay Lilias.” Jessa rooted through her tiny bag for a ten pound note as she hopped off the stool.
“She’s already put it on yer accounts.” Mairwen shooed them along like a mother duck keeping her ducklings in a row. “She had to pop into her office and settle up with the delivery lad from the distillery. She sent her best wishes that ye enjoy the waters.”
They followed Mairwen through the narrow kitchen with its gleaming stainless steel counters, the dry goods pantry that was heady with the nose-tingling aroma of spices, and then on into the back storage room that held crates and barrels of spirits strategically stacked to the rafters.
“Wow,” Jessa said. “I didn’t realize this place was so big. It doesn’t look like it from the outside.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” Mairwen said without slowing. “Here we are.” She pushed open the back door and held it. A hard wind gusted against the door, making her brace and lean against it to keep it open. “Hurry, ladies.”
Then the lively old woman muttered something so deep and low that Jessa couldn’t make it out. It sounded like an ancient language, and yet it struck a chord, niggling at a memory just out of reach and making her feel as though she’d heard those words before. Chills rippled across her. Every hair stood on end. She shook off the feeling. It must be static electricity from the storm, and Mairwen was probably cursing at the wind and didn’t want them to overhear any Scottish profanity.
“Hurry into the truck, ladies. The skies won’t hold back long.” Mairwen pointed them at a rusty red truck with a missing headlight. “And mind the door once ye’re in. Ye have to slam it hard to make sure it catches.”
Jessa climbed in first. As the shortest, it would be easiest for her to sit with her feet propped on the hump between the driver and passenger floorboards. Emily’s long legs would hook over her ears if she had to sit in the middle. That mental image had Jessa snickering while Emily repeatedly slammed the door, trying to get it to stay shut.
“Put some ire into it, lass,” Mairwen said as she climbed in behind the wheel and banged her door closed. “Think of it as the last person who crossed ye.”
With a loud bang, the door caught and stayed shut. Emily grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “Thank you, Jack Ass Jeremy.”
“Emily!” Jessa rolled her eyes but still laughed.
“And who is this Mr. Jack Ass?” Mairwen asked as she ground the gears, popped the clutch, then flinched as the truck lurched into motion.
“The man who dared to dump our Jessa,” Emily told her while leaning forward to stress the statement with an indignant look. “Can you believe that?”
Mairwen clucked like an old hen. “I canna believe it. That man must be the greatest sort of fool.”
“He’s the greatest sort of something,” Jessa said, struggling to take the high road and not blame everything that had gone wrong in the relationship on Jeremy. “But he’s gone now, and I’m better off without him.”
“That’s the spirit, lass.”
“And besides, we’ve got a month to find Mr. MacSexy.” Emily caught hold of the door handle as they bounced through a pothole. “Or at least a reasonable facsimile.”
With her eyes on the road, Mairwen bared her teeth as she ground the gears to climb the hill. Muttering more mysterious words, she looked ready to strangle the truck if it didn’t cooperate. As the incline leveled out, she relaxed and returned to her usual state of serenity. “Ye know the legend says the waters are nay just for healing.”
Jessa sensed where this was going. “You think they might help me find Mr. MacSexy?”
Mairwen’s smile brightened even more. “I’ve no doubt about it, lass. No doubt at all.”
* * *
“Oh, my goodness, you’ve made me feel boneless.” Jessa exhaled, perfectly content to melt into the massage table. Her face rested in the padded hole, and her arms dangled off its sides. Eyes closed, she struggled to stay awake, which was odd, since she’d never been one to sleep on her stomach. “Mairwen, you are magical.”
“I’m glad I’ve done ye some good, lass.” Mairwen rubbed warmed oil onto Jessa’s back and shoulders, down her arms, and on each of her fingers.
Jessa breathed in its scent and relaxed even more. It smelled of roses, with a soft note of lily of the valley and maybe even some sweet basil. “I hope Emily is enjoying her session as much as I’m enjoying mine.”
“I’m sure she is. Ishbel is as talented as I.”
Jessa had thought their massages would be in the same room, but in a way, maybe this was better. When she and Emily were together, they rarely stopped talking. With them separated, odds were better that they would soak in the benefits of the massage without distracting one another.
“Now then,” Mairwen said, the gentle lilt in her voice almost as hypnotic and calming as the room softly lit by nothing but candles. “Behind the screen where ye left yer clothes, I’ve placed a linen shift and a pair of slippers. Put those things on, and then I’ll take ye to the springs. Just ring the bell whenever ye’re ready, and I’ll return to show ye the way, aye?”
“Aye,” Jessa mumbled through her drowsiness before realizing Mairwen had already left the room. She slowly pushed herself up to a sitting position and gathered the thick white towel around her, not really in a hurry to dispel the delicious laziness of being so relaxed. Letting her feet swing as she sat on the table, she idly studied the rough texture of the dark gray walls that looked like actual stone. She hopped down, went to the nearest one, and touched it. It was cool to the point of almost feeling damp and hard as granite. Maybe the room was a small chamber off the main cave that Mairwen had said was the origin point for one of the larger healing springs.
She padded barefoot across layers of worn tapestries tossed across the floor in such a haphazard way that it seemed like an intentional decorating choice. The rich patches of burgundies, blues, and golds matched Mairwen’s shawl and skirt, which reminded her of a fortuneteller’s costume she’d once seen at the Boardwalk in Atlantic City.
Behind the tall privacy screen of yellowed parchment framed with unpainted wood was a white, floor-length dress that would make a comfortable, old-fashioned nightgown. It was as soft as her favorite cotton shirts that had been washed so many times they were almost see-through. Plain with long, loose sleeves, it tied at the front of the gathered yoke neckline. Very much aware of her pantiless state, she debated slipping them on, then decided against it. If she went into the spring wearing her undies, they’d be soaking wet for the ride home. Besides, the shift , as Mairwen had called it, almost brushed the tops of her feet. It wasn’t like she wasn’t well covered. She returned her panties to the pile of her neatly folded clothes and eyed her phone, tempted to check it.
“No. There is nothing there that can’t wait, and I don’t want to ruin this gorgeous feeling of peacefulness.” She shook a finger at the powered-down device as if putting it in its place. She hadn’t felt this worry-free in a very long while.
The shoes Mairwen had left for her made her frown. She picked them up and examined them closely. They seemed to be real leather. Simple brown slip-ons with no heel, but soft as velvet, and even had a leathery smell. She didn’t like wearing leather, but didn’t want to wear her street shoes anywhere near the spring. They might have picked up some contaminants or something in their travels, and their dyes could pollute the area. She eyed the slippers again, running her thumb along what appeared to be their hand stitching. “I guess it won’t hurt to wear these for a little while.”
She slipped them on, determined to stop overthinking every little thing. The perfect fit of the shoes was surprising. She wiggled her toes and walked around the room, delighted with their comfort. It was a shame they were leather, or she might ask Mairwen if they were for sale.
A delicate silver bell inscribed with a phrase so worn it wasn’t legible hung from a braided dark blue ribbon beside the door. As soon as she rang it, the entire room lurched with a deep, rumbling groan, knocking her off balance. She bounced against the wall, tumbled backward, then rolled to all fours, and tried to scramble back to the door. The harder she tried to claw her way to it, the more the floor tilted to a steeper incline, making her slide farther away.
“Mairwen! Help!” Was this a freaking earthquake? In Scotland? And here she was, trapped in a cave. Panic rising, she grabbed at the rugs that seemed to be caught in place and tried to drag herself up to the doorway, using them like ropes. “What the hell?” Hanging onto the worn tapestries, dangling with no foothold since the floor was nearly vertical by now, she looked from side to side. Disbelief shot a sudden rush of terror roaring through her ears, and her heart hammered so hard she struggled to breathe.
Nothing else in the room had toppled over, slid out of place, or collapsed. Nothing had moved but her and the floor. The entire room was intact, just merely tipped on its side.
Every tall pillar candle of the purest white still burned brightly on the tables and shelves, lending their golden glow to the now sideways room. The massage table and privacy screen remained in place, as if the floor hadn’t suddenly become a wall. Mairwen’s countertop was picture perfect with its colorful bottles, bowls of smooth black stones, and small towels rolled into neat bundles and stacked in a fluffy white pile.
“What hallucinogenics were in that massage oil?” Clinging to the rug, her only lifeline, she jerked at the sound of her voice echoing through the chamber as if it were a bottomless pit. “Mairwen!” she screamed, drawing it out until her throat felt raw. Hands cramping, she tried to drag herself higher and failed. She couldn’t hold on like this much longer. Upper body strength was not one of her superpowers. In fact, she’d failed the rope climb in that despised phys-ed class she’d taken as an elective.
This had to be a nightmare. She’d gone to sleep during the massage and wandered into a bad dream. “Wake up, wake up, wake up,” she muttered while bouncing her forehead against her throbbing forearms. “All you have to do is wake up, and everything will be okay.”
She struggled to wrap her legs around her rope of rugs, swinging from side to side in her battle to hang on, but the long nightgown tangled around her and thwarted her efforts. “Maybe if I fall, I’ll wake up,” she said aloud. The disturbing echo of her voice was better than the suffocating silence and the creaking of the carpeting that would surely rip away at any moment. If talking out loud got her through this, then so be it.
The painful cramping of her fingers and hands traveled up into her arms. “All you have to do is let go.” Ain’t no way , she silently argued. Apparently, her logical side would speak aloud, and her belligerent self would only use thought to communicate. “I have lost my ever-loving mind. Let go and fall, so you’ll wake up!” But she couldn’t. She had always been afraid of heights, and even though the room had seemed nice and cozy when it was right side up, from this angle, it felt as if she was teetering off the side of a skyscraper.
“Emileeee!” As faint as a faraway whisper, Jessa heard an answer. It was Emily. She felt sure of it. “Emily! Ems! Help me!” She held her breath, praying to hear a reply, but nothing came. Nothing answered but silence.
“I can’t do this.” Jessa buried her face in her arms and sobbed. “I can’t hang on like this much longer.” If this was a dream, it was the most realistic nightmare she had ever experienced. The rug slid through her hands, burning her palms before she found the strength to tighten her hold again.
She twisted, peered downward, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Below was blue-black nothingness spattered with stars. A midnight sky, the entire freaking universe, was just past her feet, and if she let go, she would fall for eternity.
Then the rug tore and sent her tumbling into free fall through the darkness. A shrill, desperate scream ripped free of her as she flailed and fought the fall. She was going to die. This was too real to be a dream.
“Lass! Woman!” A pair of large, powerful hands caught her by the shoulders and gently shook her. “Stop yer caterwauling and open yer eyes. Ye are safe.”
A man’s voice? She froze, held her breath, and kept her eyes shut.
“Aw, bloody hell, woman. Daren’t ye die on me.” He pressed his head to her chest. It was warm and heavy, making her panic even more until he lifted it away. “Thank the fates. Yer heart still beats.”
A callused touch brushed her forehead and temple, pushing her hair away from her face. She kept her eyes shut, continuing to play dead or, at least, in a dead faint. If it worked for possums, it might work for her.
Wherever she was, it smelled…different. This place was no aroma candle and incense scented massage room. It reeked faintly of wood smoke and not so faintly of a man who didn’t exactly stink but wasn’t just out of the shower fresh, either. He possessed a natural, fragrance-free scent that was the pure, raw maleness of pinewoods, mountain air, and maybe a day’s worth of sweat.
She risked easing in a deeper breath and strained to hear the slightest sound. The nose-tingling tang of whisky came to her. Or the fumes of some sort of alcohol faintly hung in the air. Beer maybe? No. It was ale. Just like the one Lilias had offered her at the pub. The only sound was gusting wind and maybe rain. Wherever she was had a window that was partially open because the damp air whispered across her, and she hadn’t seen a ceiling fan since arriving in Scotland.
“I know ye’re awake, lass. Yer wee nose is twitching like a cat’s whiskers when it’s tracking a mousie.”
Whatever she was lying on shifted, and his warmth warned he had moved closer.
“Open yer eyes. I’ll not harm ye.”
What choice did she have? She was not only weaponless but also without her phone and couldn’t call for help. She opened her eyes and choked on a sharp intake of air as she locked eyes with Mr. MacSexy. Coughing and wheezing, she rolled away from him, scrambling to escape. She hit the hardwood floor with a thud, spotted the door, and shot for it.
His arm snaked around her waist and yanked her back against a wall of muscle. “I said I’d not harm ye, but neither will I let ye run away.”
She kicked, clawed, and tried to punch him. Twisting around, she tried to bite him. She tried anything she could think of to make him let her go. She had to get out of here—wherever here was—and find someone to help her.
He resettled his footing, blew out a heavy sigh, then tossed her back onto the bed and pointed at her. “Stay!”
“I am not a dog.” Although she couldn’t resist baring her teeth in case he doubted she would bite him if she could.
“Aye, and I am not a man with a great deal of patience. I said I wouldna hurt ye, and I always keep my word. Now, stop yer foolishness, and tell me yer name.”
“You first.” She didn’t care that she sounded like a bratty child. Whatever had gotten her wherever this was gave her license to behave any way she wanted.
He glowered at her, then folded his arms across his chest, which looked much broader and more muscular than it had in the picture on that infernal app that had gotten her here. He was also a great deal taller than she had imagined. Mr. MacSexy possessed the height of a grizzly bear stretched up on its hind legs, the build of the biggest offensive lineman in the NFL, and the smug, drool-worthiness of a male model. His only flaw was a fresh scar that ran down his right cheek and damned if that didn’t make him even more handsome.
She glowered back at him. This was a guy she could find all sorts of reasons to hate because if past experience had taught her anything, men who looked like him were jerks. And he already acted grouchy. She mimicked his posture, folding her arms across her chest even though she sat in the middle of what she assumed was his bed. Which was slightly disconcerting. Should she really push her luck with this guy? Especially since here of late, all her luck had been bad?
“Tell me your name, and I’ll tell you mine,” she said, trying to sound civil, calm, and not in the least bit afraid, which was a lie. She was a hair away from a hysterical nervous breakdown.
“Grant MacAlester, laird of Clan MacAlester, and since Mairwen probably already told ye, I am also the Earl of Suddie.” He gave her a curt nod. “And ye are?”
He knew Mairwen. That meant Mairwen knew him and hadn’t said a flipping word about it when she had shown her his picture. Resentment and a sense of betrayal filled her. She had trusted Mairwen, even thought they might end up being good friends. “I am Jessa Tamson. How long have you known Mairwen?”
“’Tis a pleasure to meet ye, Miss Tamson,” he said with a grumpiness that called it out for the lie that it was. “And I have known that old witch for as far back as I can remember.”
“I see.” She glanced at the window and felt even more disoriented. It was night. How had she lost the entire day? When she’d powered off her phone in the massage room, it had only been ten in the morning. “What time is it?”
“Nigh on midnight, and afore ye ask, ye are in my bed, in my keep.”
“ Keep . That’s the same thing as a castle, right?”
He studied her as if trying to decide what sort of animal she was. Eyes narrowing, he ambled closer to the foot of the bed. “Not exactly a castle. But MacAlester Keep is a fair-sized stronghold that the English left alone for reasons known only to themselves.”
While she and Emily hadn’t yet ventured any farther north than Seven Cairns, Jessa couldn’t remember anyone mentioning MacAlester Keep. “How far is Seven Cairns from here?”
“Is that where ye’re from? Ye dinna sound Highland born.”
“I’m an American from New Jersey. How far are we from Seven Cairns? I have to get back there. My friend will be worried about me.” Jessa scrubbed her fist against her breastbone, willing her heart to stop trying to hammer its way out of her chest. “How did I get here?” She wasn’t about to share what she’d just been through. He’d think her crazy for sure.
With a heavy sigh, MacAlester lowered himself to sit on the foot of the bed. He rubbed his face with both hands, wincing when he hit the wound on his right cheek. “I dinna ken how ye got here, lass. I heard screams coming from my room, and when I got here, there ye were in my bed.”
“You’ve made it bleed.” She nodded at his cheek while gingerly scooting farther away from him. A calmer glance around revealed there was only one door in the room. Apparently, there was no en-suite bathroom connected to it. “You might want to go to the bathroom and see to it.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “I’ll wait here till you get back,” she lied.
“Bathroom?” His perpetual scowl turned befuddled. “There is no one room in this keep for bathing. The tub is brought in here and placed in front of the hearth when I feel like washing in something other than the basin.”
A knot of rising panic lodged in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. Why did he act like he had never heard of a bathroom? “You never said how far we were from Seven Cairns. I really need to get back there.”
“A few hours, depending on the horse and the weather.”
Depending on the horse and the weather? Was the keep in such a remote area that it couldn’t be reached by car? And she still didn’t know how she’d gotten here. “You swear you didn’t see anyone bring me in here?”
He shook his head, his scowl turning fiercer and his dark brows knotting over his angry eyes. “No one enters my keep without my knowing it—except for that feckin’ witch. This is Mairwen’s doing. She had to have spirited ye here.”
“That’s impossible.” Jessa swallowed hard, fighting the urge to throw up all the shortbread and coffee she’d enjoyed before her massage. She ran to the window, shoved the sash up higher, and sucked in great gulps of air. Oblivious to the increasingly hard rain, she hung farther out and stared. It was so very dark. As far as she could see, there were no lights anywhere. Of course, it was late, and this was the Scottish Highlands, remote and unpopulated. But wouldn’t a building this size have some sort of security lights or something around it?
“Come back inside, lass. Ye’re getting fair soaked and will catch yer death.” He gently but firmly took her by the shoulders and led her over to the fireplace. “Stay here by the fire. I’ll fetch ye a linen to dry yerself and a plaid to wrap in and stay warm.”
“Why don’t you call it blankets and towels?” she mumbled, numbed by the insanity of it all and struggling not to melt into a hysterical heap.
He fixed her with a stern look, but compassion flickered in the stormy gray depths of his eyes. “What does it matter what I call the things as long as ye’re dry and warm?”
“I have to get back to Seven Cairns,” she whispered, then dropped to the floor and stared into the hearth’s dancing flames. Something deep inside told her she was much farther away from where she belonged than a few hours’ ride by horse.