by L. L. Muir
“I am fair to certain, lass, that if a large truck cannot harm me, a drop or two of poison can do no worse. But let us move away from here in case your snake has bedfellows.”
Move? Yes, move. She’d been trying to get them moving all along.
She got up off her knees and took a step, but she was suddenly dizzy and the ledge started leaning toward her. Fin tugged on her hand and pulled her away, thankfully, and she was able to hop over the head of the snake without toppling to the ground.
Fin held tight as they moved down the path. “I am not married,” he said.
“What?”
“I am not married. Nor have I ever been. Ye’re the first lass I’ve kissed in centuries, and I have no ken who would have told ye otherwise.”
She started to laugh, but stifled it with a not-so-charming snort. “Centuries. Sure.”
Still walking, he moved closer so he could look into her face. “I believe ye to be in shock, my love.”
He shouldn’t be calling her that, but she didn’t feel like arguing. She felt like sitting down—no, she felt like lying down.
“You know all that adrenalin I was pumping back there?”
“Aye.”
“It’s gone now. And I feel… I think I should take a little nap.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Fin helped the lass through the garage and upstairs to her bedroom. “I will go check on the fire.” The same fire that had been cold for a while already. “I wouldn’t wish to be the cause of more adrenalin, aye?” He gave her a wink, covered her with a blanket, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She needn’t know he was saying a silent and painful goodbye, just in case they never had a chance to speak again. After what had happened with the snake, he had need to prepare, for his departure might be as swift as his arrival. If she slept through an emotional farewell and yet another shock, it might be for the best.
He closed her door and reluctantly made his way through the kitchen and over to the large glass wall he no longer feared. Staring down at the burn, he could clearly see that the angle was all wrong. He’d experienced an American-style freak out for nothing.
In case the lass slept for a while, he decided he could serve her best by going to check the generators, so reluctantly, he left. Every step he added to the distance between them compounded to the heaviness of his heart, leaving him in no frame of mind to be facing Bonnie Prince Charlie. He had no energy to spare for the man who had brought on the destruction of the Highlands when he would much rather spend those precious moments with his angel.
But that was not the bargain. And afterward, he would be returned to his dark, deep grave at Culloden, or perhaps more likely, his soul would be shuffled off to the devil. For, if anyone was to pay for the deaths of his grandmother and sisters, it should be himself. In addition, he expected that defying his vision of Culloden would be considered the worst possible blasphemy. In either case, God’s glory awaited him not.
On the other hand, saving Angel from the snake had to count in his favor, surely, for when he’d drawn the reptile’s attention, he hadn’t worried about the consequences, he simply couldn’t have allowed the thing to bite the lass. So, at least in Soni’s eyes, saving Angel would hopefully count as his noble deed—if he ignored the fact she had been hiding on that hillside because of him.
At least he would leave Little Mott with a positive, though frightening memory of him. Much better than a slap and a banishment from her mountain…
He marveled at her obstinacy. She truly had changed a future event, if only her reaction to it. And he couldn’t help wonder if there were other visions that might have ended differently?
While he mulled and moped, he topped off the generators and restarted the ritual. She would have enough gas to keep them running two days longer. By then, perhaps the sheriff could bring her more. And no matter how long she wished to keep her dream alive, who was he to say she should not? Who was he to preach surrender to a lass who would ever see her glass as half full? Who had already spit in Fate’s eye?
The afternoon sun wasn’t much past its zenith. If Soni appeared now and demanded to know how he had fulfilled his quest, he could not say how he might answer. If he’d been sent to teach Angel Mott not to fight God’s will, then he’d certainly failed.
If he’d been sent to save those drivers from dying in the landslide, he could not say for certain any would have died without his interference. Then, of course, there was the snake. And who was to say that Angel would have known any danger at all had Finlay Robertson not come calling.
His quest, then, had been for naught—unless the purpose in his coming was to meet a lass he could love well and truly, even if he hadn’t the time to do it properly.
Since the water inside the restaurant pipes had long since cooled, he took a stroll to the burn to wash a splash of gasoline from his hands with a bit of wet sand. In addition, he wished to relive the moment he’d met Angel while the sights and smells of the place might help seal that memory forever. Without her presence, however, the moment was hollow, so he headed back to the cold fire pit.
Passing the rear of the restaurant, he heard a noise inside and backtracked to the door.
“Finlay!” Angel’s anguished call melted his heart.
“I am here, lass!”
She appeared in the hall, took in the sight of him, then ran to meet him. Her arms flew around his shoulders and she squeezed him so hard he struggled to breathe. His plaid muffled her voice.
“I thought you’d left me,” she said.
“I went to wash my hands in the creek.” For a long while, they simply held tight. If only they could have remained that way forever… But he resisted saying such things. “Yer generators are full. Ye’ve two days of petrol remaining. Use that blasted telephone to ask Mike to bring more when he comes to check on ye, aye?”
She released him only enough to look into his eyes. Hers were filled with panic. “You’re getting ready to leave?”
He shook his head in denial, to ease both their minds. “But just in case, I want to say what needs saying.”
“Okay. That’s okay.” Her grip eased a bit more.
“Yer arms are cold. Let us go out into the sunshine, aye?”
He grabbed a thick scarf hanging by the door and led her back to the fire pit where only a thin line of smoke curled its way out of the ashes. But at least it gave them something to stare at. If they kept looking at each other like mournful puppies, they might end up setting virtue aside. And with his imminent meeting with Prince Charles Stuart, followed closely by his appointed hour to meet God, he preferred to avoid adding new sins to the pile he might already have waiting.
He wrapped the scarf about her shoulders and urged her to sit. She only did so after he moved his own chair close to hers. Then she clutched his hand again as if it pained her to let go of him.
“What a coincidence,” he murmured. “Neither do I wish to let go of ye, lass. Not until I must.”
She searched his eyes for a three count, gaging his sincerity, then nodded. “It’s just… I thought you’d gone.”
He didn’t point out that she was repeating herself.
“Um, I hate to state the obvious, but—you’re not dead.”
He chuckled. “Not yet, at any rate.” He was careful to avoid her gaze then. “As I suspected, the snake’s bite had no effect.”
“Any more visions? Any idea what is going to happen here, besides Mike or his deputies coming up?”
“Shall I try?”
She nodded encouragement. He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined the sheriff’s car arriving, but it was purely his imagination, nothing more. Then, he invited the Prince’s image into his mind, hoping a clear vision would form, but again, nothing was offered, no hint of what his future held after he left this place. He opened his eyes to find the lass staring at him with wide eyes.
He smiled and shook his head. “As ye yanks like to say, I got nothin’.”
The s
lam of two car doors reached his ears. The lass’ grip turned painful. Whatever the officer had said on the phone did not bode well, but it seemed he was about to discover what it was that had almost torn them apart. If not for that snake, she certainly wouldn’t be holding his hand, and he feared a reminder of that phone call was about to inflict its damage once again.
Did she fear the same? Or was it something else?
She made no move to go greet the newcomers, neither did she call out. Instead, she stared at the ashes, and if it weren’t for the tightening of her fingers, he would question whether she’d heard what he had.
After a few minutes, someone gave a shrill whistle. When Angel disregarded it, he took it upon himself to answer. Ignoring matters would not heal what lay between them. They needed to face the truth before it was too late, before he was gone.
“Back here,” he called, though he and Angel would have been located eventually.
Mike appeared around the corner of the building with a stout fellow following behind who wore a baseball cap that made his head look rather small in proportion to his body. Another officer brought up the rear.
“Hello,” Mike said cheerfully. “Nice day to be outside, huh?”
“It is, that,” Fin answered, and stood. His and Angel’s hands parted, though he could not say who had been the first to let go.
Mike stepped aside and gestured to the next man. “Angel, you know Mark Simplot.” For some reason, he was suppressing a smile.
“Hello, Mr. Simplot.” She nodded sideways at Fin. “I guess you two already know each other.”
The big man frowned. “Who the hell are you?”
Fin inclined his head. “Finlay Robertson, at yer service.”
The man turned his frown on Mike. “You said you left McLain with her.”
Mike pointed at Fin’s kilt. “I said I left a Scotsman up here. You assumed it was your man. And since McLain is the only one missing—”
“Yer man is missing?” Fin’s stomach knotted to get his attention and he felt the final piece of his puzzle fall into place.
The big man nodded. “Came up yesterday, said he’d stop by here on his way to Idaho Falls.”
“There is a chance, then, that he was caught beneath the landslide.”
The other men’s faces and shoulders lowered as they came to the same grim realization. Mike ordered his fellow officer to make a call down to the site of the slide to see if they’d found a car in the debris, but he made no move to leave. Instead, he put his hands on his hips and gave the bigger man a pointed look. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell her.”
Mr. Simplot’s skin flushed a deep shade of red and he briefly narrowed his eyes at Mike. “Fine.” He took off his cap and passed it from hand to hand, avoiding eye contact with the lass. She bravely stood up to face whatever he had to say.
“I was sincere about my offer to buy the place,” he said. “And my offer still stands if you’ve decided you want sell—” Mike cleared his throat and the man blushed yet again. “But I doubt you’ll have any trouble making your last balloon payment.”
She fumbled for Fin’s hand and held tight. “I don’t understand how you could possibly know how short I am—”
“It won’t matter,” Mike said, grinning again. “Curt and Sherry and the rest of your employees are making quite a stink on the news and social media. Of course, you wouldn’t know that, without power and all, but they’ve been reminding everyone just what they’ll lose if Haggard’s has to close because of that landslide. They’ve been all over the radio and—” He broke off to laugh for a bit. “Go ahead, Mr. Simplot. Tell her.”
The sigh of defeat escaped the big man and he finally looked up. “Curt’s going to be on two national news channels tonight. On a third one tomorrow. Seems everyone is hungry for a happy cause, and Haggard’s is it.”
Mike took up the tale. “I’ve been on the phone with the governor, Angel. He’s had clearance to open the canyon from the junction all the way down to your place first thing in the morning. If you need product, we’ll allow your supply trucks through this evening, along with Sherry and a boatload of help, so you can be ready.” He frowned. “If that’s what you want, of course.”
Tears flowed freely down Angel’s cheeks. “Give us a minute, would you?”
Fin was surprised when, instead of jumping joy, she led him toward the veranda. Even now, the wedding arch and the scene beyond made his stomach clench. Thankfully, she stopped and faced him before they reached that second step.
“Forgive me,” she said. “Please forgive me.”
“For what, lass?”
“For trusting Simplot when he said you worked for him. I couldn’t believe you’d lied to me, but that was stupid—I shouldn’t have believed you’d lied to me. I should have told him he had the wrong man. And if I hadn’t left you in a huff, you wouldn’t have been near that snake. You could have died!”
“Nothing to forgive, lass. Just a misunderstanding. And it sounds as if Haggard’s is about to become verra popular, aye?”
She looked a wee worried by the prospect. So he asked what troubled her.
“Parking. If it gets crazy tomorrow, Mike’s going to have to help with traffic so no one gets hurt.”
“Perhaps it is time to walk forward, unknowing, into yer future, lass. I’ll have ye ken I have great faith that it will all work out for the best, aye? From where I stand, yer glass is full by more than half.” He bent down and kissed her as a distraction from the tears building up behind his eyes, but the clearing of throats cut their embrace short.
“We need to go,” Mike said. “Did that kiss help you decide?”
Everyone enjoyed a hearty laugh as he and Angel returned to face them across the fire pit. Simplot began toying with his hat again.
“I apologize, Miss Mott, for trying to take advantage of the situation. And to make it up to you, I’d be happy to entertain the possibility of being an investor here.”
“I don’t want another loan,” Angel said. “If this publicity saves us, it saves us. If it doesn’t, well, I’ll have to consider closing. I don’t want to live under that kind of pressure anymore.”
“No, ma’am. I meant investor. I own enough construction companies in this area, I’m sure we can cut into that ugly hill to the northwest and double your parking without damaging your pretty views.”
She and Fin exchanged hopeful smiles.
“I will think about it,” she said.
The other officer rejoined them, slightly short of breath. “They found a corner of a white pickup,” he reported. “They’re digging to find a passenger and the license plate now.”
Mike started moving. “We have to go. You tell your suppliers we’ll let them through at six o’clock.”
“Will do. Thanks, Mike.”
Simplot replaced his hat, thanked the lass, then hurried to catch up with the others.
Angel’s voice turned tentative as they watched the others go. “Fin?”
“Aye, lass?”
“Sounds like you’re going to miss one heck of a day tomorrow.”
“Aye, lass. It does.”
She looked at him then and swallowed with difficulty. “You can’t stay. I heard that loud and clear. But you’re going to have to help me understand, because—I’ll be honest with you—right now, I don’t think that’s possible. I don’t think you can explain to me why trucks can’t kill you, why snakes can’t poison you, and why…and why your heart can’t break. Because, except for you, everyone else standing around this dead fire is suffering.”
“Auch, lass.” He opened his arms to her, but his angel held her ground.
“Explain it,” she whispered. “Explain it…or go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Such a wee word it was, and what power it had to rend a heart.
Go.
In his vision, being ordered off her mountain had been a mournful thing. Once he’d met Angel Mott, knowing she would banish him had left him heart
-sick. But now—now that he loved her so—he would rather lose his life a hundred times over than hear her say the word again.
But was her worry well-founded? Would any plausible explanation satisfy her? Heaven help him, was he allowed to tell the truth? Why, oh why, hadn’t Soni explained such things to him before sending him along?
He threw his head back and shouted to the distant blue, hoping against hope that he would be heard. “Soni! Help me!”
“Auch, Finlay,” a light and familiar voice said from his right. “Are ye ready to go, then?”
Angel’s arm rose and her finger shook as she pointed at the wee witch standing a dozen feet to her left. “Did she just… Where did she come from?”
He grimaced. “That would be part of that explanation ye’re looking for.”
~ ~ ~
Angel grew light-headed again, but it went away quickly when she remembered to take a few deep, embarrassingly loud breaths. “Is this Sonser…” She couldn’t remember the name. “Sonser—”
“Soncerae,” the girl said. “Call me Soni, if ye like.”
Angel looked her up and down. Levis, pink shirt, and a geeked-out black cape embellished with serious bling. Five foot five, maybe. I can totally take her.
Fin snorted, then cleared his throat. “Angel, lass, ye’re doin’ it again. Ye’re thinkin’ aloud.”
She shrugged. “I don’t care if she heard me. I can take her.”
Soni laughed, then tilted her head back and forth a few times. “Ye’re welcome to give it a try.” She laughed again, then winked. “I’m joking. I’m certain, if I had to fight fair, ye could take me.”
Angel was disappointed. She really didn’t want to be nice to the chick who was going to take Fin away, but there wasn’t anything else to dislike about her. Her smile was infectious, damn her, but Angel resisted.
“You want to tell me why he has to go with you?”
The girl stared steadily at her, all joking aside. “We have a bargain.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to keep that bargain.”