Maggie closed her eyes. “Oh, great. Please don’t tell me it’s another round of skydiving lessons.” Her eyes flew open. “You guys are not getting me back up in one of those little planes!”
“Don’t be silly,” Allie admonished. “Besides, the pilot refused to ever take you up again, remember?”
“Besides,” Rachel reminded her reproachfully, “your parachute opened,”
“Yeah, after the instructor finally caught up with me and unjammed the cord!” Maggie handed the envelope back across the table. “Maybe I’d better just pass on this ‘surprise’.”
Ominous, silent stares were her reply.
“Or not.” Maggie sighed and tapped the envelope against the table. “Okay, fine. But there’d better not be anythinginside of this that involves ink, smoke, free-falling through space, or anything else that will be likely to tear me limb from limb or put an unremoveable stain on my clothing.”
“Trust us,” Ellie said, lifting one black eyebrow.
“Trust us,” Allie echoed, arching one tawny, perfectly waxed brow.
“Where did that waiter go?” Rachel said, staring down into her empty glass.
“Fine. Sure. Whatever.” Maggie unbent the metal clasp holding the flap of the brown envelope together, opened it, and reached inside. “Just wait until your birthdays. I’m goingto come up with something that—”
Maggie stopped talking as she pulled out a sheet of paperwith an impressive monogram embossed across the top.
“The Archaeological Foundation of Western Scotland?” Her mouth went dry with sudden, ridiculous anticipation. “What did you guys do?” she asked, afraid to hope.
“Just read it,” Allie said.
“Yeah, read it,” Ellie said.
Maggie smoothed the sheet of paper out on the table and cleared her throat. The words danced in front of her eyes as she read them aloud.
“ ‘Dear Ms. Graham:
On the basis of your application and outstanding résumé, you have been chosen to join the crew of my newest archaeological dig in the Highlands of Scotland. We will be exploring the history and archaeological significanceof a cairn recently discovered near the village of Drymen. Please see the enclosed brochure for more information. I look forward to greeting you personally when you arrive.
Sincerely,
Alexander MacGregor, Ph.D.’ ”
She lowered the paper.
“Ohmigosh,” Maggie said softly. “Is this for real?” Then she remembered with whom she was dealing. “Ha, ha. Very funny. You guys are hysterical.” She tossed the sheet of paper to the table. “Drymen. Couldn’t you even come up with a Scottish-sounding name for the village? Lame, girls, really lame. Okay, where’s my cake?”
“It’s not a joke.” Allie frowned and picked up the paper, handing it back to her. “Honest, Maggie. We set it all up and you’re going to Scotland.”
“It’s true!” Ellie said, her voice twisting a little. “Oh, Maggie, we’re sorry. We shouldn’t have teased you, it’s just that you’re so—so—”
“Gullible.” Rachel slurred the word a little. “But this is for real!”
“We’ve been saving money for years for this—” Allie began.
“We found this Professor MacGregor on the Internet—” Ellie interrupted.
“And we sent off your résumé and wrote a letter—” Rachel added.
“And if you’ll check that envelope again, you’ll find a nonrefundable airline ticket to Inverness, parachute included,leaving next Tuesday—” Allie said.
“And a reservation at Hotel George for the first night, and a tour of where Rob Roy MacGregor lived—” Ellie said.
“Rob Roy?” Maggie said faintly, interrupting Ellie.
“And none of this is dangerous or risky,” Rachel said with a sigh. “Just extremely boring, at least the digging in the dirt part.” She paused thoughtfully and took a sip of Maggie’s whiskey. “Unless Professor MacGregor happens to be a hottie, in which case, maybe you’ll get the opportunityto take a chance for once in your life!”
All three sat back triumphantly as Maggie stared first at each of them, and then at the paper in her hands. “It’s real?” she whispered.
“Bonafide,” Allie said.
“Done deal,” Ellie agreed.
“It’s your turn, Maggie,” Rachel said softly.
Maggie felt the smile beginning, felt it stretch her mouth, felt it fill her face, and suddenly she was on her feet, and it didn’t matter that everyone in the pub was staringas she climbed up on the table and raised her arms in triumph, swaying a little, as her sisters and her friend grinned up at her.
“I’M GOING TO SCOTLAND!” she shouted.
two
“Margaret!”
Maggie ignored the sound of the deep, manly voice calling her name, and smiled as she continued to carefully whisk a soft brush over the clay pot in her lap.
In the three days she’d been in Scotland, she’d discoveredthat: one, the “dig” was little more than a glorified tourist attraction, meant to entertain aficionados of Indiana Jones movies, and two, her daydream of a Scottish hunk who wanted to ravish her had finally come true. Strangely enough, she was more interested in the phony dig than the phony hunk.
Professor Alex MacGregor was quite possibly the most handsome guy she’d ever seen up close, real, and personal. At six foot one, Alex was a man among men—at least at first glance. His hair came to below his shoulders and was dark golden blond with natural, sun-bleached highlights. His eyes were a deep blue, fringed in long, dark lashes belowperfect tawny brows.
In fact, everything about Alex was perfect. He had the perfect jaw, the perfect chin, and the perfect sexy mouth that tilted to one side and invited any and all women to partakeof the sensual buffet his sensual smile promised. His body was almost exactly like that of the men in her fantasies—bulging biceps and rock-hard abs (she knew becausehe’d taken his shirt off on the first day to work in the sunshine) and broad “let me carry your problems for you” shoulders. And to top all of that charisma off, he claimed to be a direct descendent of Rob Roy MacGregor.
She should’ve been swooning in his wake like every other woman on the dig. “Should’ve” being the definitive word. Rachel would have a fit if she found out Maggie wasn’t in the least attracted to the handsome archaeologist, not that she was sure by any means that he actually was an archaeologist. Maggie had pegged the hunky hunk for the player he was, and had dismissed him in favor of enjoying the pseudodig.
So what in the ever-loving world was wrong with her? She could just hear what Rachel would say: “Why aren’t you taking this guy up on his innuendoes and suggestions?”
Maggie didn’t know. Maybe something was wrong with her. Maybe she had low hormones. Maybe that was the real reason the gynecologist had put her on the birth control pills and just didn’t want to make her feel bad. Maybe she was going into menopause.
For pity’s sake, she told herself, get a grip.
She was still having a wonderful time in spite of Alex, and in spite of the the fact that most of the real excavation work had been done before the “crew”—gathered mostly from applicants on the Internet from the States—had paid their money to participate in a real archaeological “find.” The “helpers” were reduced mostly to cleaning crockery and hadn’t been allowed in the cairn all that much.
But she was in Scotland, and for the first time in more than a decade, responsible only for herself. That alone made her feel absolutely giddy with pleasure.
“Margaret!” Alex called again, and with a sigh, Maggie looked up to see him striding toward her, his carefully cultivatedboyish grin firmly in place.
She’d told him ten times on the first day that her name wasn’t Margaret. It was Maggie. He told her that a woman as “bonny” as she was had to have a prettier name than merely “Maggie.” With a sigh, she brushed the dirt on her hands onto her already filthy jeans and smiled.
“Good morning, Professor Alex,” she said.
Great. She was special. Like a hundred others he’d used that line on.
Maggie brushed a lock of hair back from her face and gave him a halfhearted smile. “Right. Alex. Did you need me?” she asked without thinking.
His smile faded into a sultry pout as his blue eyes swept over her. “Aye,” he said, “I need ye with a need that burns deep within my soul. I need ye with—”
Maggie cut him off with a laugh. “Let me rephrase that question. Were you looking for me?” Alex knelt next to her, so close she could count his long lashes.
“Aye, lass,” he said softly, “I’ve been lookin’ for such as ye all of my life. I’ve looked from glen to glen and from loch to loch and from—”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Enough. I’ve told you this isn’t going to happen, remember? I’m here to explore ancient Scotland, not have a Highland fling.”
He slid his eyes half closed, and as if on command, they began to smolder. Maggie gazed into them, amazed that someone could actually do that in real life. Maybe she could get him to teach her how. It might come in handy if she ever found someone she actually wanted to turn on. However, since Alex’s burning gaze was doing nothing for her, maybe he shouldn’t be giving lessons.
“Och, lass,” he said, his voice smoldering now, too, “all I wanted was to ask if ye will go with me to the Faire?”
Maggie considered the invitation. He’d already asked her twice since her arrival to go with him to the RenaissanceFaire in nearby Drymen, but she knew to agree would be agreeing to more than the Faire. At least in his mind.
“I told you, no Highland flings.”
He moved one hand to his chest. “Lass! Ye wound me to the heart. Do ye think I am so insincere, so shallow, as to want only a one-night stand?” He reached out and stroked one finger gently down the side of her face.
Maggie smiled up at him. “Of course that’s all you want.” She took his hand and placed it on his knee, giving it a halfhearted pat. “And actually, I have a headache.”
He gave her a disbelieving look.
She laughed. “Really, I’m serious.” Just before she left Texas she’d gotten a sinus infection. The antibiotics were in her pack but she kept forgetting to take them. “Now, if there’s nothing else,” she said, “I have some dusting to do.”
“Och, but there is,” he said. He grabbed her hand and stood, pulling her along with him, the flirtatious tone suddenlygone from his voice. “Lass, I have something to show ye—a real discovery!” His eyes were shining with what appeared to be real excitement, and for a moment, Maggie wondered who he really was beneath the façade.
“A real discovery? You mean all of these fascinating pieces of clay pottery weren’t real discoveries?”
His eyes slid to one side and then the “ya gotta believe me” smile was back in place. “Of course, darlin’, but this is different. I’ve made a new, amazing find, and ye are the first one I want to show it to!”
Maggie shrugged. “All right,” she agreed, pulling her hand away from his. “Lead on, MacDuff.”
“The MacGregors are no part of the MacDuff clan, lass,” he said with a frown.
“Right, right,” she muttered. “It’s just a figure of speech.”
“Speakin’ of figures, lass—”
“Alex! One more line and I swear I’ll report you to— to . . .” She frowned. Did Scotland have a Better Business Bureau? “Well, I’ll report you to somebody. Now, this is your last chance to show me your big discovery.” He opened his mouth, and she held up one finger. “Don’t—you—dare.”
He grinned and shrugged. “All right, lass. Your loss.”
At the base of the hill, they passed about twenty tents that made up the camp of those “chosen” for the archaeologicaldig. The site was rustic and devoid of any frills, which she felt almost sure was part of “Professor Alex’s” attempt to give his customers a “real” experience.
The cairn was situated on top of a hill, and as she trudged behind Alex, Maggie enjoyed the sight of the Scottishcountryside around her. Blue green glens and faded purple mountains in the distance, rolling green and russet hills divided by babbling “burns” and dotted with Neolithicrocks and brushy copses of alders and oaks. Even in this present day, the land was ancient and untouched in comparison to the rest of the world.
Oddly enough, Maggie felt as if she’d come home. For the first time since her parents had died, she found that she could relax. That alone was worth putting up with Alex MacGregor.
“Come on!” he called, pausing on the hillside and gesturingfor her to hurry. Maybe she’d misjudged him. He looked so happy, so eager. Maybe he wasn’t completely hopeless. Maybe all he needed was the right woman to love him to give him the confidence to drop the act and be himself.He gave her another dazzling smile.
And maybe she’d grow bigger boobs and longer eyelashesbefore Christmas.
Alex waited impatiently for her at the curved doorway to the cairn. The cairn itself was quite unusual, Maggie knew. Most of the ancient mounds, built from stone or dried bricks and then covered by eons of dirt, were no more than about a meter in height and had long ago collapsed inward. There were a few that were very tall, but with a small circumference.
This one was intact and huge in comparison to most at about sixty feet in diameter and fifteen feet in height. Alex had told her it was second in size only to the Newgrange cairn in Ireland. The two were also similar in that neither showed evidence of being used as a tomb. Very unusual.
As they entered the cairn, Alex had to duck down to miss the top of the doorway, and then he straightened and grinned. She was getting very tired of that grin. But she tried to be polite.
“Okay, what’s the big surprise?”
“Look, lass!” Alex took her hand. For once the gesture seemed innocent. He led her to a spot on the curved walls and pointed. “This could be the discovery that finally makes my career!” he said.
Maggie took a closer look at the wall. The rest of the cairn had been built from individual, smaller stones, but at this one section in the curved wall, a huge Neolithic stone had been incorporated into the structure. The stone stood flush with the wall, but its edges protruded slightly on eitherside.
“Wow,” she said, “this is unusual isn’t it?”
“Aye, but even more amazing is this.” He pointed to the edge of the standing stone.
Maggie leaned closer to examine a series of lines carved into the surface in different numerical groupings and her eyes widened. “An ogham,” she whispered in awe.
Alex’s smile widened. “Och, lass, I knew ye wouldna disappoint me. Ye are the only one of this motley crew that has any kind of understanding of what we’re doing.”
Maggie straightened and gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks. I think. Okay, I know what it’s called, but give me the basics again of what it actually means. It’s been a few years since I studied this.”
“An ogham is a kind of ancient alphabet used by the Celtic people ages ago.” He pointed at four lines carved closely together. “Each grouping designates a letter of the Celtic alphabet.”
Maggie reached out to touch one of the lines. A quick thrill of excitement raced through her blood. “A message from the past,” she said softly. “Amazing.”
“Aye, and what’s more amazing is what the message says!”
She glanced over at him and arched one brow in suspicion.“What does it say?” she asked, her tone flat. “ ‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?’ ”
Alex laughed. “Nay. Does that line really work in America?”
“No.”
He lifted one broad shoulder in a shrug. “Nay, lass, its message is more cryptic than that.”
Surprised that he didn’t take the opportunity to make more of her comment, Maggie watched as he pulled a piece of paper out of his faded blue jeans’ pock
et, unfoldingit carefully.
“As near as I can translate it,” he said, reading somethingon the paper, “I make it out to say, ‘Follow forward, follow back, ages lost, ages found.’ ” He looked up and smiled at her in delight.
Maggie smiled back, suddenly equally delighted. Ancientmessages hidden in stone. How cool was that? “What does it mean?”
He spread his hands apart. “Who knows?” he said, beaming. “But isn’t it wonderful?”
“It really is.” She patted him on the arm. “I’m very impressed.”
Alex covered her hand with his before she could move it, and pulled her against him. “Enough to grant me a kiss?”
Maggie looked up into Alex’s lazy, teasing eyes and pushed him away.
“Nope. Not even close. But thanks for sharing your discoverywith me.” She smiled. “That was nice of you.”
“Nice?” His handsome face registered a depth of despairover her rejection that she knew was entirely false.
“Very nice.” She turned to head for the curved doorway. “It’s really fascinating that—OW!” Maggie stumbled and fell to her knees. Alex rushed to her side, and for once, his concern sounded sincere.
“Are ye all right, lass?”
“I’m fine, just clumsy.” She sat up and dusted off her hands, searching the floor for what had made her stumble. “But what did I trip over?”
Alex knelt next to her and began running his hands over the uneven surface. After a minute he pointed to a bump on the floor. “I think this is the culprit. Just a bit of stone.”
Maggie leaned closer to look at the raised lump, and then reached out and brushed a layer of dirt off of the top. She blinked as she saw that the stone continued, curving to the right. “Hey, this isn’t just a misplaced rock. I think this is a carving.”
Alex practically flung himself to the floor. Taking a soft brush from his shirt pocket, he began sweeping the dirt away in a circular motion, his efforts quickly revealing more of the upraised stone. “Brilliant,” he whispered, his blue eyes luminous.
“Me or the stone?” Maggie quipped.
Highland Rogue Page 3