Hot for the Scot

by Janice Maynard

  “And did this time-traveling woman fall in love with her Highland clansman?”

  Angus was no dummy. He had zeroed in on the heart of the matter, even though I hadn’t pitched my description in that way. “Yes…eventually. But not at first. There were complications.”

  “Aren’t there always.…”

  His dry comment made me laugh. “So that’s it in a nutshell. Now you know why I’m here.”

  “You’re leaving something out,” he said, his gaze sharp and knowing.

  I picked up my water bottle so I could look away from that piercing male gaze. “What do you mean?”

  Angus sat up and dusted off his hands. “Don’t stop now, Hayley. You and your friends decided to seek out more than adventure. You’re supposed to be looking for romance, aren’t you?”

  Chapter 12

  I nearly choked on a mouthful of water. The look in Angus’s eyes said he was definitely interested. In me. And my answer.

  Waving a hand and keeping my gaze fixed on the castle tower in the distance, I pooh-poohed that idea. “Of course not,” I said. “I’m not the kind of woman who indulges in a vacation romance.”

  “Too bad.”

  He muttered the words beneath his breath. But I heard them. And my brain shut down. My palms got sweaty and my throat tightened. I felt my thighs clench like I was some movie star about to get ravished by her leading man.

  I jumped to my feet so quickly I nearly lost my balance. “I want to explore the ruins,” I insisted. “But I don’t mind going alone.”

  “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he said. “Lead on, Macduff.”

  I felt his eyes on the back of my head as I walked quickly toward a small crowd of people examining what used to be the moat. His Shakespeare reference rattled me. Though Shakespeare’s play Macbeth was set in Scotland, I suppose my prejudices were showing, because I have to admit to being surprised that an athlete who left traditional schooling at seventeen could toss around literary quips so easily.

  The fact that the popular phrase was not a direct quote from the play made no difference to me. I was struck by the fact that I kept looking for reasons why Angus Munro and I had nothing in common. Why was I so reluctant to think this gorgeous Scottish hunk and I might actually connect in more than a superficial way?

  Though Angus walked beside me as I blindly explored the ruins, he kept his head down, presumably to avoid being noticed. If he was trying to prove a point, I didn’t know what it was. The day had lost its sparkle. I was to blame, no doubt about that. Next to Angus I felt like the most uninteresting woman on the planet. My insecurities threatened to ruin what might become a fun, though arguably temporary, relationship.

  Finally, I glanced at my watch. “Let’s catch the next boat,” I said.

  Angus nodded. “Okay.” With his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, he could have been thinking anything.

  We sat hip to hip on the return voyage. A great many people had decided to leave when we did, so the boat was crowded. But though we were physically close, I felt as if Angus and I stood on opposite sides of a great void.

  He seemed to be sending a message that he was interested in fooling around—was there a Scottish expression for that? But it wasn’t a game I played. I was an ordinary schoolteacher with no head for alcohol and a normal schedule that had me in bed before ten each evening from September to June. I enjoyed walking in my neighborhood when the weather was nice, and I liked music of all kinds.

  The last man I dated sold insurance and lived with his mother.

  I was scared out of my wits.

  By the time we made it back to Angus’s cherry-red car, he and I had exchanged barely a dozen words since our picnic ended. As he backed out of the tiny parking space and rounded the end of the hotel, I grabbed his arm. “Oh, wait. Stop. Is that a souvenir shop?” I asked, already unbuckling my seatbelt. “I want to take some things back for the children who will be in my class this fall. I see a little Loch Ness Monster figurine in the window that would be perfect.”

  Angus reached for my arm and pulled me back inside the car. “Now is not a good time to shop,” he said. “Do you see those two tour buses in the parking lot? You won’t be able to breathe in there for all the people.”

  “But what if they sell out of the one I want?”

  Angus burst out laughing.

  He laughed. And he laughed some more. He laughed until tears wet his face and he gasped for breath.

  I sat with my arms crossed over my chest. I appeared to be the butt of this joke, but I didn’t understand why. When Angus seemed in control of himself once again, I frowned. “What’s so funny?”

  My question nearly sent him off again, but fortunately, he was able to compose himself before answering. “The shop owners order those trinkets twelve dozen at a time. Ninety percent of what’s inside there is made in a factory on the other side of the world. And the lot of it probably has at least a fifty percent mark-up.”

  Now I understood. “Well, you’re missing one important point,” I said. “The merchandise may be junk, but it’s junk I can’t buy in the U.S.A. And it’s exactly the kind of thing kids love.” I gave one last wistful glance at Nessie in the window. “But you’re right. It’s too crowded at the moment. I’ll come to shop another day.”

  As we headed back to Drumnadrochit, Angus quizzed me about my job. “Do all teachers care so much about students they haven’t even met yet?”

  “Most of the ones that I know. We’re always looking for ways to make the classroom more interesting. I plan to do a unit in November on folk tales and fairy tales. The Loch Ness monster would be a perfect addition. And at Christmas, I’ll be able to wrap all of the cute little Nessies and give them to my children as their holiday present.”

  “Any gifts you need to buy for a significant other?”

  It was a loaded question, and it caught me at a vulnerable spot. “No. No one special.”

  “I would think that working in an elementary school makes it hard to meet suitable men.”

  “How about any men,” I shot back. “Even our custodian is a woman.”

  “And I’m guessing nice girls from Georgia don’t hang out at the corner pub.”

  “We call them bars…and no. The Board of Directors at my school would frown upon that. But marriage isn’t the be-all and end-all of a woman’s existence.”

  “That’s true,” he said. His gaze was focused on the road, but I was fairly sure he was grinning.

  “Besides,” I said loftily, “I may be looking for another job before too long.”

  He shot me a glance. “And why is that? You don’t like what you’re doing?”

  “I like it,” I said. “But sometimes I think I should find something more stimulating.”

  “Give me an example.”

  I moved restlessly in my seat. “I don’t know. Maybe I could become an event planner. Or sell real estate.”

  Angus eased the car to a stop in front of Annis’s house. “You wouldn’t be happy with either of those.” He turned sideways in his seat and draped his arm over the steering wheel, giving me the steady gaze that always did something to my insides.

  “And why not?” I was flustered by the calm certainty in his voice.

  His slow smile took my breath. “Well,” he said, as if choosing his words carefully, “to be an event planner means you’d always be orchestrating exciting days for someone else. And if you sold real estate, you’d be helping other people find their dream homes.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Not a thing. But I get the impression you’re ready to jump the fence and dive into the action.”

  He had me there. I often felt as if life was passing me by. Not that I didn’t enjoy my work or that I was particularly discontent. It’s just that I wanted to know I was alive. My own third-grade teacher had been a year away from retirement when she taught me. In my mind, I could still see her iron-gray bun and n
o-nonsense glasses.

  Maybe I was afraid of turning out like Mrs. Shapiro.

  I didn’t mind delving into Angus’s background and psyche. It was far less enjoyable, however, when the tables were turned. “I should go in,” I said. “Thanks for an enjoyable day.”

  “Don’t rush off,” he said. “Tell me what’s on th’ schedule for tomorrow.”

  “Honestly? I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Would you like a companion for your next adventure?”

  Suddenly, I found myself on shifting sands. I was torn. On the one hand, Willow and McKenzie and I had all agreed to look for romance. But as far as I was concerned, consenting to that aspect of our covenant had been little more than lip service on my part. I’d certainly never expected to actually end up in a relationship, temporary or otherwise.

  I was intimidated by Angus. He was too big, too handsome, too Scottish, too everything. I needed some time—the night at least—to think things over.

  “I had fun today,” I said. “But I don’t think the weather tomorrow is going to be very nice. Why don’t I give you a call in the morning if I decide to go exploring? I’m learning to be spontaneous.”

  “Of course.” His smile was warm and intimate. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

  The words were simple, but the way he said them left me breathless. “Okay, then.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “This is a no-parking zone. I’d better move along before I get a citation. Take care, Hayley.”

  Chapter 13

  Before I knew it, I was out of the car and Angus was speeding away.

  I let myself into the house and managed a smile for Annis. But the knot in my stomach grew with each passing moment. I was angry with myself. Why hadn’t I simply said yes to Angus when he offered to go adventuring with me? Why had I equivocated? I was nothing more than a craven coward.

  My problems had to be back-burnered when I realized that my landlady was upset. I dropped my things on the table in the hall and went to sit beside her. “What is it, Mrs. Pottinger?”

  “I told ye to call me Annis.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Her attention was glued to a news program that appeared to be a Scottish version of the Weather Channel.

  Annis shook her head. “Rain on the way,” she said.

  Considering the fabulous sunshine we’d enjoyed today, I guess the law of averages wasn’t in our favor. Scotland was, after all, known for misty, gray days. Honestly, I hadn’t let overcast skies dissuade me from exploring so far.

  “How long will it hang around?” I didn’t really care, but it seemed polite to keep the conversation going.

  My older friend shot me a look that gave me an odd chill. “We’ll be gettin’ the remnants of Hurricane Mabel. Might see eight inches of rain in two days. The river will flood. It’s been a problem before.”

  I knew the River Enrick wound through town, not far from Annis’s home. But it seemed harmless enough. “A hurricane? In Scotland. Seriously?”

  Annis shifted back in her chair, propping her feet on a fleece-covered stool. “’Twill be only a tropical depression when it gets to us, but that’s enough. Two years ago the same thing happened north of here. Landslide outside of Ullapool blocked the main highway. No one could get in or out of town for several days.”

  “Can I help you do anything? To prepare, I mean?”

  She pursed her lips, her face taking on the shape of a dried-out apple. “Ye can pray. That’s all.”

  Either Annis or I or both of us must have been out of favor with the Almighty, because I awoke the following morning to the steady drumming of rain on the roof. I lay in bed, comfy and warm, marveling at the fact that already I felt at home in this odd little house. Sadly, I knew Angus wouldn’t be expecting a call from me today, not with this weather.

  Annis was an early riser and didn’t like the kitchen to be cluttered with breakfast things past nine o’clock. With no agenda, I might have lingered in bed, but I made myself get up to dress and head down the hall.

  My hostess and I shared a predilection for silence in the morning. We sipped our tea and read the newspapers in harmony. Though the moment seemed peaceful on the surface, I had known Annis long enough by now to pick up on her unease.

  “Have you heard an updated forecast?” I asked finally.

  “Aye. It’s not good.”

  I was stymied. I wanted to reassure her somehow. But I didn’t know what to say. After breakfast, I was tempted to call Angus despite the deluge. But he would likely think I was mad if I suggested an outing. So instead, I bundled up in all of my waterproof gear and set off on a walk. The wind howled. The rain came down. I loved it.

  I even considered wandering back to the castle. I often did five miles on the treadmill at the gym, so the route to the castle was definitely doable. Still, if Drumnadrochit was getting the remnants of a hurricane, I should take things seriously.

  Since I didn’t want to wander too far afield, I visited a couple of my favorite shops. I was beginning to know people by name. I picked up some headache tablets at the local chemist, and at the post office/local grocer, I bought stamps. With no electronic means of communicating with my family and friends back home, I needed to send a few postcards.

  This afternoon, I planned to curl up in a comfy chair and write my parents an old-fashioned letter, describing all my adventures in detail. My mom would love that, and my dad would be reassured I wasn’t doing anything foolhardy.

  At the local pub, I ordered a bowl of lamb stew for lunch and ate it slowly, enjoying my favorite rainy-day activity—people watching. Older citizens in town spoke with such heavy accents I had to listen carefully to decipher the conversations. I fancied myself a bit of a linguist. I might even go home at the end of the month sounding like a Scottish lassie myself.

  Midafternoon, the rain and the winds picked up. If the morning’s blustery weather could be described as tempestuous, now we were well into the red zone. Despite my raingear, I was soaked to the skin as I walked back to the B&B. I had to lean into the wind to keep my balance. Along the way, I eyed the river. It was choppy and mud-colored, but so far, it didn’t seem alarmingly high.

  Annis clucked over me like a mother hen when I showed up. Soon, most of my things were tumbling in her ancient dryer or hanging up in the bathroom. I knew it would be foolhardy to go back out later, so I resigned myself to spending the rest of the day indoors. It was the perfect opportunity to read a good book, and if I tired of that, I would attack my correspondence.

  It struck me, when I had been back for a couple of hours, that I no longer had the impulse to sit down and check my phone at every available opportunity. The realization left me bemused. Was it that easy to kick my electronic habit?

  Life here in a small Scottish village had a different rhythm. The modern world was available to me if I needed or wanted it. But I could also let myself slide back into a less harried time. As far as I could tell, the plan I had hatched with Willow and McKenzie was working. I had become part of Drumnadrochit. And it a part of me.

  The only thing that wasn’t going according to plan was my romantic adventure.

  As the hours passed and the rains increased in intensity, I found myself thinking about Angus more and more. I was sure that Annis could find his phone number for me. Should I call him and try to explain my conflicted emotions? Or would that paint me as a crazy American tourist?

  Chances were, I had overestimated his interest in me. He lived in a small town. After years of traveling the world, he was probably bored. I was a novelty to him. Even so, I hoped to spend more time getting to know him.

  As the storm persisted, the level of anxiety in the house mounted. Annis never sat still for long. Gradually, she began moving any of her possessions that were on or near the floor to higher spots.

  There was nothing we could do to protect her furniture, but I helped her carry photo albums and a chest full of letters and memorabilia dating ba
ck to the early twentieth century. Soon, her kitchen and bathroom counters were stacked high.

  I noticed one framed photograph in particular that made me curious. The subjects were dressed in the clothing of an earlier era. “Who’s this?” I asked. The man was sitting on a settee, looking confident and handsome. The young girl at his knee, maybe six or seven, was bright-eyed and happy.

  Annis stopped what she was doing and came to stand beside me. She took the frame from my hands and used the hem of her housedress to remove a nonexistent speck of dust. “This is my husband and my daughter,” she said.

  There was no discernable emotion in her voice. I knew she lived alone. Perhaps the daughter had grown and up and moved far away. I couldn’t quite bring myself to articulate further questions. I didn’t want to pry. “It’s a lovely picture,” I said. I was uncomfortable, not knowing why the atmosphere in the room was suddenly strained.

  Annis continued to stand there and dust the glass, her fingertips gliding over images that had faded to sepia. “She died, you know.”

  I didn’t know. Not at all. I held my breath, hardly daring to move.

  When I didn’t say anything, Annis went on. “My husband was a bricklayer. He’d not had any work that week, so one evening when I was cooking up dinner, he took her to the park. The lass lost her balance, fell backward off a swing, and broke her neck.”

  “Oh, Annis. Oh, my God. How terrible.”

  “Three days after the funeral, he was dead as well. The guilt, you know. Though ’twasn’t his fault. He was right there beside her. When she was gone, he started drinking and didn’t stop. Ran his car into the river. The coroner called it an accident, so I’d have a bit of insurance money. But we all knew the truth.”

  Unable to help myself, I put my arm around her. “What did you do? How did you go on?”

  She clutched the picture to her breast almost absentmindedly. Her voice wavered, but her eyes were dry. “The town was good to me. People looked out for each other back then. Even more than now. They fed me and made me get out of the house. I’d wake up every morning and tell myself I would get through it. Eventually I did.”