Scot of My Dreams (9 page)

“I’d like you to move to the castle.”

I froze. Surely I hadn’t heard him correctly. And he’d said
move to the castle,
not
move in with me
. Two very different things. “Um, why?”

“I’ve come up with a whole list of reasons,” he said. His voice was calm, but I noticed that his grip on the steering wheel was tighter than necessary.

“Start with the most important one.”

“Okay.” His jaw was carved in granite. “Abigail smiled when you had lunch with us yesterday. And she laughed. I haven’t seen her so animated since before her husband died. She likes you. I’m willing to do damn near anything to bring her out of the black hole she’s been living in.”

Wow. Not exactly the passionate declaration I’d been expecting. “I see.”

“It wouldn’t ruin your vacation,” he insisted. “I assume since you’re staying at a hostel, you’re on a budget. If you come to the castle, think of all the money you’ll be saving. We’ll make a plan. Abigail or I will take you everywhere you want to go.”

So much for my romantic Scotsman. Still, I had to respect a man who cared so much for his sister’s well-being. “Your sister doesn’t even know me.”

“You impressed her. She told me that anyone who would travel around a foreign country alone for an entire month must be a really strong woman. Please, Willow. Help me help her. She was strong once, too. She still is. But it’s going to take some work to make her believe it.”

There must be more to the story. “Did you take me out to dinner and kiss me so I would agree to your plan?”

He pulled off onto the side of the road and silenced the engine. “No,” he said bluntly. “That was all for me.”

The air inside the car evaporated. Or it would have if the top hadn’t been open. “Isn’t this the definition of mixing business with pleasure?” I was breathing too fast. Making myself dizzy. “How am I supposed to help your sister if I’m fooling around with you?”

Bryce curled a hand behind my neck and dragged me over the console that separated us from total insanity. “You’re a smart woman. You’ll think of something.”

His kiss tasted of desperation. I was right there with him. Would a sophisticated Scottish laird make love to a woman in the backseat of a car?

It was a question that wasn’t going to be answered today. Bryce’s cell phone rang. I expected him to silence it, but when he reached for it, he cursed. “It’s Abigail,” he said. “I have to take this.”

I sank back into my seat, feeling like a three-day-old helium balloon. The sensation intensified when I heard Bryce’s end of the conversation.

He hung up and hit the steering wheel with a fist. “We have to go. Uncle Horatio has disappeared.”

“Oh, no.”

Bryce gunned the engine and executed a three-point turn. “He’s done this before…not often, thankfully. He’s getting worse. Most of the time the old guy is a hundred percent. But now and then he slips into the past.”

The conversation ended as we drove at high speed through the countryside. I thought Bryce might drop me at the hostel, but he flew past the junction and kept on going.

At the castle, Abigail met us out front. She had been crying. “It’s dark,” she sobbed. “And he doesn’t have his jacket.”

Bryce put his arms around his sister. “We’ll find him, lass. Dinna fear.”

In this moment of high emotion, I heard the highly educated Scotsman lapse into the cadence of his youth. I cleared my throat. “What can I do to help?”

Brother and sister looked at me as if they had forgotten I was there. Bryce reached out a hand and pulled me into their circle. “Stay with Abigail. The two of you should be here in case Horatio wanders back inside. Put a hot water bottle in his bed. Make sure there’s plenty of tea on the stove, and brew it strong. I’ll call you the moment I find him.”

Bryce rounded the side of the house and disappeared. “Where’s he going?” I asked Abigail. The car was parked where he’d left it.

“He’ll be taking the Jeep. We’ve a lot of property, so Bryce will have to go off-road.”

“Your brother seemed awfully sure he’ll find your uncle. Is it really that easy?”

“That’s Bryce being Bryce. He doesn’t accept the possibility of defeat. Once he decides something will happen, he makes it so.”

I grimaced inwardly. That was certainly true in my case. Although, to be fair, I hadn’t actually had a chance to say yes
or
no to his proposition. He said I should move to the castle. I happened to love that idea. Bryce wasn’t controlling me. I was making my own decisions.

Inside, where the light was better, I could see that Abigail was pale. “Are you okay?” I asked softly, not wanting to upset her further.

She wrapped her arms around her waist, her expression hunted. “I know he’s old. I know he has to die sometime. But not like this. I couldn’t bear it.”

When she burst into tears, I acted on instinct. I didn’t know her well, but Bryce claimed Abigail felt a connection to me. I put my arms around her and let her cry it out. She was as petite as I was tall. I almost felt like her mother, though I suspected she and I were close in age.

At last she sniffed and pulled away, wiping her eyes. “I got you all wet. I’m sorry. I’m just so scared.”

“Losing someone you love is difficult, even when their time has come.” My father hadn’t died, but I understood grief.

She nodded. “My husband was in the Army. He’d already served one tour of duty in Afghanistan and had come home. We were thinking about starting a family. But they gave him a promotion and asked him to consider going back to combat duty.”

“He must have thought he was doing the right thing.”

“Oh, yes. He was close to finishing high school when 9/11 happened. From that day on he said it was only a matter of time until something similar struck Europe. So instead of going to university, he enlisted. He’d been in for five years when we married. I was an Army wife for four more after that. And then he left again. Four months later a sniper’s bullet took him out.”

“I’m so very sorry, Abigail.”

“You can call me Abby if you like.” She wiped her face again and exhaled a shuddering sigh. “I really am doing better. I’ve dealt with becoming a widow. But tonight brought it all back. I don’t want to lose my great-uncle, too.”

“Let’s hope Bryce finds him quickly.”

Abigail and I did everything Bryce had asked. Then we waited. The housekeeper had retired to her room. The old castle echoed with emptiness. Though the family’s living quarters had been updated with modern conveniences, in the end, the building was still a castle: drafty, atmospheric, maybe even haunted.

It was all I could do to keep my charge distracted with random conversation. Abigail was nervous and jittery and barely able to sit still. Bryce checked in repeatedly via cell phone. Every time Abigail answered a call, her face fell. Her brother was having no luck.

The rain began in earnest, so heavy we heard it pounding against the mullioned windows. Abby turned on the television but kept it muted. Storm warnings had been issued all over the area. As bizarre as it sounded, we were getting the remnants of an Atlantic hurricane.

Finally, Abby jumped to her feet, her expression mutinous. “I’m tired of waiting. I want to help.”

I trailed in her wake as she went to the mudroom and began putting on rain boots and a heavy oilskin slicker. “Bryce will be angry,” I said, “if you put yourself in harm’s way. He doesn’t need two people lost tonight.”

Abby rolled her eyes at me as she tucked her hair inside the hood of the jacket. “I grew up here. I know every inch of this place. I won’t get lost.”

It was clear I wasn’t going to talk her out of joining the search. My only choice was to go with her.

Fortunately, I had plenty of borrowed gear from which to choose. I quickly found a pair of Wellingtons that fit me. I chose a waterproof coat similar to the one my hostess now wore. “I’m ready. We’ll stay together. Promise me.”

“Of course. I’m not foolish.”

Not foolish, but stressed. People under pressure didn’t always make the wisest decisions. “Do you have a plan?” I asked. “Or are we walking at random?”

As we stepped outside into the monsoon, Abby was forced to raise her voice. “Bryce will already have checked the barn and the outbuildings. We should go farther afield. I’m trying to think like my great-uncle. What would he do if he thought he was living in the past?”

“He was in a wheelchair when I met him. How far could he go?”

“Uncle Horatio is capable of walking, but he’s weak. If he was out of his head, he might not remember that he’s old and fragile.”

Well, that was just peachy. “You lead. I’ll follow,” I said.

I don’t know how far we walked, but my calf muscles were burning by the time Abby paused at the top of a small rise. “Are you okay?” she asked.

I nodded, too winded to answer. The rain blew sideways, reducing visibility to just a few yards. I was wet and cold, and I suspected Bryce was going to be furious with us. Surely he was still calling to check in with his sister, but there was no way she could answer her phone, even if she had brought it with her.

Abby stared into the darkness, her features pinched with worry. “There’s a set of ruins on the other side of the creek. Uncle used to take us on picnics there when we were kids. It’s worth a shot.”

Unfortunately, the creek was now a raging torrent. The little footbridge had been washed away. Only a section of the wooden handrail remained. “It’s too dangerous,” I yelled.

“Maybe.”

Abby was stubborn. But so was I. “You’re short,” I said. “And you don’t weigh very much. Let me do it. Help me find something to use for a pole.” If I could plant a heavy stick in the creek bottom, I would have some thing to hold on to. I might be able to wade across.

We rescued a plank that had lodged itself against the bank, probably part of the ill-fated bridge. “Will it work?” Abby asked.

“I think so.” Something taller would have been better, but we were out of options. Gritting my teeth, I waded into the freezing water. The other day when I stumbled upon Bryce fishing, the little stream had been shallow and beautiful. Now it was a formidable adversary.

I shoved the piece of wood into the creek bottom and felt it sink into the mud. Carefully, I took two more steps. The water was up to the tops of my thighs, but I still felt in control. I closed my mind to the thought of what might be hidden in the rushing water. Snakes. Did they have snakes in Scotland?

My plan was a good one, right up until the moment my makeshift support pole snapped in half. I lost my balance and went face-first into the water. Abby screamed. Choking and gasping, I thrashed and struggled until I found my footing and stood upright.

“I’m okay,” I shouted. “But I’m coming back.”

In the darkness, I had lost track of where I started, so I waded out several yards downstream from where Abby was standing. As I did, I almost tripped over a body lying half-in, half-out of the water.

Oh, my God
. My heart stopped. “Abby,” I cried. “Come help me.”

The next few minutes were a blur. We turned the man over. It was Horatio. He was limp; a deadweight actually. But I was fairly certain I could see his chest rise and fall.

Abby was sobbing. The hurricane was winning. I was about to pull my arms from their sockets trying to drag a hopefully-not-dead body out of harm’s way.

When we had moved Horatio a safe distance from the flooded creek, I wiped my face with my hands. “We need help,” I said. “I would never be able to find my way back to the house without getting lost. You’ll have to get Bryce.”

Abby nodded, her eyes huge. “Will you be okay with Horatio?”

“Of course.” I sounded exceedingly more confident than I felt in reality. “But you be careful going back.”

Abby nodded and disappeared into the storm.

Poor Horatio was in bad shape. He had obviously come out tonight minus any kind of rain gear or even a light jacket. Wearing only a thin long-sleeve shirt with pants and shoes, he was in danger of hypothermia.

I struggled out of my rain slicker. Immediately soaked through to the skin, I cursed as I tried to dress the old man. As far as I could tell in the darkness, he had no visible injuries. It was possible he had fallen trying to cross the creek.

My first-aid knowledge was limited. I did know conventional wisdom said not to move an injured person without knowing exactly what was wrong, but if we had left Horatio where we found him, he would have drowned.

I sat beside him on the hard ground and waited, every now and then putting my hand on his chest to reassure myself he was still breathing. With no watch or phone to mark the passage of time, I drifted in uncertainty. Thirty minutes could have been an hour.

The dark night was surreal. Here I was in Scotland, thousands of miles from home, in the middle of nowhere. Sitting in the pouring rain with a man who might be on the verge of taking his last breath.

Pulling my knees to my chest, I wrapped my arms around my legs and rested my head. I think I must have dozed off. Or maybe I was dreaming while half-awake. I wasn’t scared, not really, though I felt immeasurably cold and alone. It was a hollow sensation.

I said prayers for the old man. I knew Bryce and Abigail loved him. This was not the way for anyone to say goodbye.

At last, I caught a snippet of sound that had my head lifting and my ears straining. It was the rumble of a Jeep engine accompanied by the flash of headlights cutting through the gloom.

Abby jumped out, but Bryce was faster. He crouched beside me with an arm around my waist and kissed my wet hair. “Thank God you’re okay.” Then he knelt at his uncle’s side and lifted the old man into his arms. “Let’s go.”

Bryce climbed into the back of the Jeep with his precious burden. Abigail took the wheel, leaving me the passenger seat. Our progress seemed painstakingly slow, but the storm lashed us on every side, so Abby had no choice but to drive at a snail’s pace. Not only had the wind and rain not abated, but if anything, they were increasing in strength and fury.

We reached Dunvarstone at last. A doctor waited for us, the old-fashioned kind who still made house calls to a creepy castle in the middle of the night. I found out in the midst of our arrival that he was actually a former classmate of Bryce’s.