Lost Highlander Page 7

  “He’s being pretty quiet about it. I don’t think he really believed us when we told him he was in another time until a plane flew over the property the other day. Poor guy nearly had an aneurism. He won’t leave the upstairs, hopes whatever happened will just undo itself and he’ll wake up in the right time.”

  “Maybe it will,” she said, but without much confidence. That never happened in the books. “It seems like Piper has a little crush on him.”

  “Well, he seems a good enough guy, the culture clash notwithstanding and all.” Sam shrugged. “He was pretty excited about all the books and magazines we brought him, and Piper’s been trying to fast track Gaelic so she can talk to him more. I think he’s a little scandalized by her.”

  Evelyn laughed and looked out the window. It was rather dreary out, grey and overcast.

  “I don’t think I can read anymore right now,” she admitted. Her muscles were twitching from sitting so long, hunched over all the manuscripts.

  “Nor me,” he admitted, standing and stretching. His sweater lifted the tiniest bit at his waist and Evelyn tried not to notice the inch or so of smooth skin and well chiseled abs that showed. “Let’s get Piper and go into the village for dinner, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she agreed heartily, bounding out of her chair and following him out of the room.

  They found Piper sitting on the floor in the kitchen, the door to the passage Evelyn had taken to the wine cellar propped open, a gas lamp on the floor a few feet into it.

  “I sent Mellie for some wine,” she said morosely. “Don’t worry, she has a lamp and a walkie talkie.” Piper held up a comically large walkie talkie handset. “I just really need some wine. We can’t possibly remember everything we unpacked or moved until Lachlan appeared. And honestly, how will we know the cursed object when we see it? Almost everything here has got some sort of weird mojo about it, some of this stuff is older than America and Canada combined.”

  “We agree we need to reassess the plan,” Sam said, reaching out a hand to help her up. “I think we ought to take Evelyn into town and get a nice hot meal at the pub.”

  Piper waved away his hand. “You two go ahead. I’m going to stay and keep working futilely.” She tilted her head in the direction of the huge gas range. “Besides, Mellie’s got a chicken baking. I’m going to take some to Lachlan in a bit.”

  Evelyn tried to get her to change her mind but she stayed firmly planted on the kitchen tile. Mellie called over the walkie talkie to name off some wine choices and Piper shooed them away as she pressed the button on the handset to answer her.

  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  The drive into the village was shorter than Evelyn expected, having thought they were out in the middle of nowhere. Sam pointed out various landmarks, a picturesque old chapel with a little graveyard behind it, lots of hills, quaint stone cottages, a somewhat modern grocery store. The town center was just as she expected it would be, based on her avid British television show watching.

  There was a large town square, that was really more of a circle, with a street leading up a hill that ended at another church, this one with an impressive spire. The village square streets were cobbled, but had modern sidewalks, and were lined with shops. An apothecary, which was closed to Evelyn’s heartbreak, a two screen cinema that was showing one new release and one classic from the nineteen fifties and advertised free children’s shows on Monday mornings. There were clothing and shoe shops, a watch repair that also had all sorts of techno gadgets in the display window. There were several restaurants, one seemed quite fancy, and Evelyn hoped she’d get to go there before she went home. They passed a salon and Sam turned down an alleyway, parking his car in a tiny three spot parking lot. A sign read “For Employees of Maclean Booksellers and Donna’s Beauty Only, Please.”

  “Everything is so charming,” she said, shaking her head.

  “We aim to please.”

  They walked around to the front of the shops, Sam waving at who Evelyn assumed must be Donna through the window of Donna’s Beauty.

  “This is mine,” he said, proudly opening the front door of the shop for her.

  A little bell tinkled and she walked through to paradise. It was lit with table lamps and sconces on the wall, not a fluorescent bulb in sight. Cushy leather armchairs flanked the front window display, which was a delightful miniature train set that ran around a tiny countryside, winding past propped up copies of a variety of books. There was a coffee counter off to the side, with a few wrought iron tables and chairs, a brass bakery cart displaying cookies and slices of cake. The racks of books all had hand lettered signs advertising what was in each aisle, with end cap displays of featured books with cute and pithy suggestions sticking out of each one on a little card. On the walls was artwork ranging from a painting of what had to have been an important battle in Scottish history, to Picasso sketches, to children’s drawings and thank you notes. Apparently Maclean Booksellers donated a fair amount of books to local schools. Evelyn tried to keep her heart from warming, but she failed. She loved it here, and wandered off to soak in the wonderful atmosphere.

  “Sam, I wasn’t expecting you in today!” A female voice squealed. “You have to see the new shipment of greeting cards, they’re hilarious.”

  Evelyn popped out from the aisle of travel books she was in and stood next to Sam. The woman, wearing meticulously fitted black jeans and the kind of gorgeous riding boots that you saw the Duchess of Cambridge wearing on the polo field, but just could not justify buying for yourself because you lived in Texas and it was summer nine months of the year. A lacy cream sweater perfectly complimented her flawless olive skin. Defly flipping her gloriously shiny black hair over her shoulder, she gave Evelyn the once over, then the evil eye, then a wide toothy smile.

  “Oh, hello.”

  Well, she’s not in love with Sam or anything like that, Evelyn thought and smiled back at the woman.

  Sam introduced them. Padma had been working at the shop for a year, and was trying to break into illustrating. Sam pointed to a grouping of watercolors behind the counter.

  “So, you’re the other American?” Padma asked, smiling some more.

  Evelyn nodded. “Yes, I’m the other one. We’re hoping we can find some good men here to help replenish the stock.”

  Sam laughed, and Padma narrowed her eyes for a split second before joining in. Evelyn sighed and complimented the paintings, then dutifully moved a few inches away from Sam so as to not appear threatening.

  She wished real life didn’t always have to seem so much like her job at Hoochie Mama’s. Whenever some jerk somehow managed to talk his girlfriend into coming with him, they’d always act in this same manner. And then Evelyn would have to be aloof and weird, never knowing who was going to be in charge of leaving the tip. One time when she’d first started she’d told some girl she was just trying to pay her way through grad school and was not in the least bit interested in ever hooking up with anyone who went to strip clubs, and she’d be wise to maybe rethink her standards as well. No tip at all from them.

  “I just wanted to show Evelyn the shop before we get some dinner.”

  “How’s it going up at the manor?” Padma asked, leaning over and brushing some invisible lint off of Sam’s coat.

  “Slow. There’s a lot to be sorted.” He turned to Evelyn. “Piper was hoping to have the place open to visitors again by Christmas, but I seriously doubt it now.”

  “It’s a real mess,” Evelyn agreed. “That place is just generations of mess, like a whole season of Hoarders combined.”

  “Well, if anyone can help get it together, it’s Sam. He knows a lot about the place.”

  Sam shrugged modestly and it was all Evelyn could do not to shake her head.

  “Oh, he’s a real star, I’m sure.”

  Sam took her by the arm and started steering her out of the shop. They walked to the pub, which was a couple blocks down the street. It was already dark out and the street lamps had all winked to life while the
y were inside. The air was like ice and she put her head down, wondering how Sam could just be striding along as if he weren’t being repeatedly stabbed in the face by icicles.

  The pub was toasty warm, and Sam chose a booth by the fireplace. Evelyn sighed happily and scooted as close as she could to the crackling fire without tipping into it.

  Sam laughed. “You get used to it,” he said. “This is just autumn, after all.”

  She shivered and shook her head vehemently. They ordered hot sandwiches and cold lager, Evelyn a little worried about the beer. She’d heard stories about how strong it was. She was a wine girl herself, and could barely stand the taste of American or Mexican beers, but she wanted to get the full Scottish experience while she was here.

  “Oh, blargh, it’s as awful as I thought,” she said, pulling a face after she choked down her first swig of the dark foamy beverage. “And don’t tell me I’ll get used to it, either.”

  She pushed the mug over to his side of the table and asked the waitress, who’d been hovering to see her reaction to the lager, for a white wine. When the food arrived they dug in contentedly, happy to be away from misplaced Highlanders for at least a little while.

  “So. Padma,” Evelyn said, accepting another glass of wine from the very attentive waitress. “Have you two ever dated?”

  Sam coughed and took a swallow of lager before answering. “No. Where did that come from?”

  “She kind of put off a territorial vibe, gave me the once over.”

  “Ah, the territorial once over, was it?” Sam nodded and smiled knowingly, his head tilted to the side a bit as he sized her up himself. “I think that’s because you look quite a bit different from how you’re described.”

  “What? How did Piper describe me?” Evelyn asked.

  “Well, we heard a great deal about what a loyal friend you’ve been, how brilliant you are, and how you’re getting your advanced degree in what is it? Women’s studies?”

  “Well, gender studies, it’s of course more in depth than just the women’s experience, but there is a focus on how women are perceived and then what is actually the case.” She trailed off, feeling nerdy.

  He smiled again. “Yes, she did try to explain it. But I think we might have pegged you a little differently in our minds. See, Piper never told us that you were ridiculously hot. It’s a little shocking at first.”

  Evelyn felt her cheeks burst into flames and she tried to hide her furious blush by pretending to drop her napkin and diving under the table to retrieve it.

  Calm down, she told herself at the same time as she was thinking how sweet Sam was. No, it was not a compliment, he’s just bantering. Just let it go, Merkholtz. She came back up with her napkin and rolled her eyes at him.

  “Whatever,” she said and really would have plunged her fork into her hand for such a stupid sixth grade response, but the waitress came just in time to start clearing away their things.

  Sam looked altogether too pleased with himself for setting her off balance. When the check came, Evelyn was mortified when she realized she’d never changed her money at the airport and only had a few measly American dollars. She took out her credit card and reached for the bill, but Sam took it first.

  “Don’t be daft,” he said, in such a way that brooked no argument.

  She nodded and tried not to smile at the actual usage of the word daft. She could totally live here just for the accents and BBC word usage alone. Back out on the sidewalk, when the chill wind hit her, she instantly changed her mind and decided she hated Scotland with a passion.

  “Get back inside, I’ll run get the car.” Sam took off before she could even pretend to be a trooper. Oh dear lord, but she was starting to like him.

  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  They found two empty bottles of wine on the kitchen counter when they returned to the manor. Piper and Mellie were nowhere to be seen.

  “Corrupting Scotland’s youth,” Sam sighed, picking up one of the bottles and raising his eyebrows at its vintage. “They probably got drunk and staggered off to bed.” He set the bottle back down on the counter, next to a small inlaid wood and lacquer box. “Which is what we should probably do. Big day of staring at tiny illegible handwriting ahead of us tomorrow, eh?” He smiled awkwardly at Evelyn.

  “Ugh, didn’t they just have the worst handwriting?” she agreed, trying to sound normal, not really sure when things had gotten so unnatural. Were we just on a date? Evelyn wondered. Because this feels exactly like the end of a date.

  The more she thought about it, the more she realized she really wouldn’t mind if he gave her a kiss goodnight, but the logistics of it were confusing. Would it happen here in the kitchen, then they’d walk upstairs together and uncomfortably go their separate ways, or would he do it upstairs at her bedroom door? Stop being absurd, she scolded herself. He’s not thinking about kissing you at all, and if he were, that would just make this all the more complicated, and it’s plenty complicated already.

  To defuse the situation, if there indeed was a situation, Evelyn reached past the empty wine bottles and pulled the pretty little box toward her to inspect it. Popping it open, she found it was packed full of jewelry.

  “Do you think that could have anything to do with the curse?” Sam asked, pulling out a string of pearls with a garish multicolored stone clasp in the shape of a seahorse. Evelyn sighed and shrugged.

  “If there even is a curse,” she made sure to reiterate. She felt responsible for the curse theory being out there, and wanted to make sure everyone realized she had absolutely no real expertise in the matter of time travel. “It doesn’t seem old enough.” She turned the box, taking in its details and then pushing the jewelry around with her finger. “It’s probably from the sixties or seventies, and the jewelry mostly looks costume.” She pulled out a brassy enameled fox head brooch with sparkling green eyes. “Kinda kitschy. I would assume, based on the curse theory even being the correct one, that the cursed object would be from Lachlan’s era.”

  She dug around in the jewelry box some more, charmed by some of the tacky little trinkets. She’d always suspected she had the tastes of someone much older than she really was. Granny chic. “What year is he actually from, anyway? It would really narrow down our research if we could blow past irrelevant years.”

  “We don’t know. He’s been pretty tight lipped. I guessed eighteenth century based on his clothes and weapons. I’ll try and talk to him some more tomorrow.” Sam smothered a yawn. “He doesn’t trust us, which I really can’t blame him for. We must seem like aliens.”

  They walked up the stairs and paused at the top landing, the awkwardness threatening to settle over them again. Determined not to let it happen, Evelyn quickly started toward her room with a little wave.

  “See you bright and early, then,” she called when she was twenty feet away. He looked a little stunned at her rapid retreat, but quickly recovered himself, and reminded her that if she needed anything, to just scream bloody murder.

  Evelyn fell asleep the second her head hit the well stuffed feather pillow, with a smile on her lips.

  Chapter 9

  Evelyn woke up at nine and took a hurried shower in the undependable and leaky bathroom. Finding the second floor to be all quiet, she decided to take pity on the others and let them sleep in while she made breakfast. In the kitchen, however, she found a plate of scones already set out on the large plank table, neatly covered by a checkered cloth napkin. The coffee pot was also half full and still warm. Even after a bender, it appeared that Mellie was on the ball. Evelyn buttered a scone and poured herself a cup of coffee and decided to get a jump on the day’s research, feeling newly invigorated by a good night’s sleep.

  Feeling awfully smug, Evelyn pushed open the library door and was surprised and a little disappointed to find Piper and Sam already hunkered down over their respective piles of documents. Piper looked up at her from the desk and smiled excitedly and Sam gave a little salute from his corner by the window.

 
“What the heck? How long have you two been awake?” Evelyn accused, feeling left out. She was supposed to be the one who knew everything, after all.

  “Oh, hours,” Piper said, then seeing Evelyn’s face fall, quickly explained. “We didn’t want to wake you. I know how bad the jet lag can be and it hasn’t exactly been stress free since you got here. I just couldn’t bear to disturb you.”

  Evelyn begrudgingly accepted this explanation of her exclusion and took the stack of papers that Piper handed her and went to sit in the armchair by the fireplace to begin reading.

  “Also, Evie,” Piper continued in her excited voice. “Sam told me about your theory of how the cursed thing is probably from the same time as Lachlan.” She gestured to the papers that surrounded her and shook her head. “I can’t believe we wasted so much time yesterday. Anyway, since Lachlan gets up with the sun, Sam and I went and talked to him this morning to try to find out exactly what the date was when he arrived here - er, back then, I mean. When he was captured, back in his time.”

  “I get it,” Evelyn said, urging Piper to continue.

  “It turns out he speaks English after all,” Sam said from his corner. Evelyn glanced at him with a quick smile and was rewarded with one in return. She felt the odd glimmer of something stirring in her chest and looked down at her papers, shuffling them ostentatiously.

  “His accent is a nightmare, I can barely understand him. He makes Sam sound like one of us.”

  “Why did he suddenly start speaking English?”

  “He didn’t trust me,” Piper said, beaming. Evelyn shook her head, not understanding.

  “You? Why not you? I would think Sam would be more intimidating than a child sized American.”

  “See, that’s the thing, he didn’t know I was American, he didn’t recognize my accent. He thought I was a British interloper. In his day, America was still a few measly colonies under British rule, and the Brits and Scots weren’t exactly besties back then.” She held up a large colorful book that looked like a primary school textbook. “I just brought this history book up to him to show him that we’re no longer a British nation, totally different, and that I am in no way British, then he opened right up.” She dropped the book back onto the desk and frowned. “We had to work really hard not to give too much away about his future, though. Poor guy’s really in for it when he gets back.”