The Curse: Touch of Eternity (The Curse series) (7 page)

M
y first days in Scotland had flown by. My daily sightseeing tours were on hold for the weekend, so I was spending a lot of time with Alison and Roy. Alison was funny and laughed a lot. While she did her housework, she’d tell me stories—amusing episodes from her life, or small squabbles she’d had with Roy. And although she was the tiny one in this odd couple, she easily won every fight.

I felt really at home with them. The cozy warmth in the cottage, the rosy glow coming in through the pink blinds, and the arch overgrown with roses over the front door—all of it seemed to have brushed off onto me, and I was feeling much sunnier than I had been at home. But I couldn’t say everything was perfect.

The whole weekend I’d felt a little on edge. I couldn’t put my finger on it precisely, but it was almost as if I were being followed. Whenever I stopped and looked around, I didn’t see anything unusual. But it always felt as if someone were looking at me behind my back, and that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I felt a little silly about it, actually. It was probably just what Roy had told me when I arrived: Scotland turned people into superstitious scaredy-cats.

On Monday morning I had the house to myself. Since Roy was a teacher, he left the house pretty early in the morning. Alison had already apologized the night before for not being able to make breakfast for me. She was working extra hours at the tourist information office for a few days, filling in for a coworker who had to get her appendix out.

“It’s no problem,” I said. I was actually kind of relieved to get a little alone time. “I can get breakfast for myself, and then I’ll go on the tour.”

Alison’s expression told me she was worried I might run into trouble again. She’d felt terrible when I’d come home in the dark, soaking wet, after losing my tour group.

I tried to reassure her. “I promise I won’t miss the bus again. And I’ll always stay close to my group. Please don’t worry.”

“OK, but do be sure to take your phone with you this time, just in case.”

As Alison said good night, it was clear to me that she wanted to believe I’d be fine on my own in the morning, but she wasn’t entirely sure.

I opened my eyes. Just as I had after my first night there, I unlatched the window as soon as I got out of bed. I could tell it was going to be a nice day. The sun was already successfully warming the air, and I stood at the window in my pajamas, just enjoying the quiet. The delicious smell of coffee
and biscuits wafted up from the kitchen. Not surprisingly, Alison had decided to take care of breakfast after all. I wandered downstairs and got myself a cup of coffee with milk. I carried it, and a plate of biscuits, up to my room and had breakfast in bed. I felt at ease. The disconcerting fears of the past days had disappeared, and, for a change, I couldn’t wait to see more of Scotland.

My good mood stayed with me the whole day, even during the sightseeing tour. Like lemmings, we followed our guide to the Glenfinnan Monument. We lemmings didn’t fall into the sea, but we could be counted on to follow each other into each souvenir shop. This particular little shop could hardly withstand our attack, and I almost had a bout of claustrophobia. Gasping for breath, I dashed out the back door and sucked in some fresh air.

In front of me stretched the wilderness of the Highlands. A gravel path led across the heather and up to the monument, so I headed toward it.

The Glenfinnan Monument is a round, simple tower on the coast of Loch Shiel. The closer I got to it, the larger it loomed. It was built in 1815, our guide had told us, to mark the spot where Prince Charles Edward Stuart, also known as Bonnie Prince Charlie, began the Jacobean uprising. The Scottish clans gathered around him here in 1745 as he led them to battle in the fight for the crown of England and Scotland. They must have really trusted him.

The tower is topped by a statue of a nameless Highlander in a kilt, but since he couldn’t say much, a real human Scot in full tartan was on hand. His job was to let only two or three visitors at a time through the arched doorway into the tower. It was very dark and frighteningly narrow inside
the old building. I climbed a steep, winding staircase and pushed myself through a tight opening to reach a narrow platform at the top. Another visitor poked his head through right after me.

I stepped up to the stone balustrade to make room for him. And when I saw his face, my breath caught, and I quickly turned away.

I hoped he didn’t notice his effect on me. I couldn’t say exactly what it was, but the sight of him made me woozy, and I had to lean against the wall. When I stole another look, he was standing as far away from me as possible. Maybe he was trying not to invade my personal space, I thought.

My heart was beating so loudly that I was afraid he could hear it. Every fiber of my body felt electrified. I had only looked at him briefly, and yet his image had burned itself into my memory. He seemed a little older than me, and he was quite a bit taller. His short hair was ruffled, as if he’d just woken up from a dream. His hair was brown, but single strands were lighter, and they stood out like golden sparks. He was wearing black cargo pants and a dark-gray button-down shirt over a white T-shirt.

Despite the distance between us, he kept looking at me. Even when I turned, I felt his gaze drilling into my back. Unable to stop myself, I looked at him again, trying not to be too obvious. There was something strange about the way he was staring at me. His brown eyes seemed slightly glazed, and he had pulled back away from me even more.

I tried to swallow, but felt like I couldn’t. The wind blew my hair into my face and a whiff of his scent swept toward me. Indescribable feelings flooded me. His face was
scowling, his whole posture unwelcoming, yet I somehow felt inexplicably attracted to him.

The silence at the top of the tower stretched out. C’mon, Sam, I said to myself. Regain your composure! I had to take a deep breath, and then another, before I could even think about starting a conversation.

I turned slightly toward him and pointed at Loch Shiel in front of us. The sky and the even surface of the water melded seamlessly, and the surrounding hills seemed to be watchmen.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I asked with a weak voice.

He looked past me, took a deep breath, and answered with an equally pressed voice. “Yes, beautiful.”

His intense, unfathomable look held me tight in its grasp, and his voice almost physically touched me. I wanted to ask whether he meant the view was beautiful—or something else.

He spoke again and seemed to be waiting for an answer, but I was still so dazed by his first words that I didn’t hear what he said.

“What? Sorry… I… I didn’t hear you.”

“Payton, I said. I’m Payton. And you?”

“Sam. I mean… actually, Samantha… but everyone calls me Sam.” I seemed to be squeaking rather than speaking. My knees had turned to chocolate pudding, and my voice was giving up on me. God, I wondered, what would Lisa back home say about such pitiful behavior?

The embarrassment got even worse. While I was musing about chocolate pudding and squeaking, I’d missed the next thing that he said. Sure, he had a Scottish accent, but that hadn’t given me trouble before. He probably thought I
was a complete idiot. There I was, standing in the tight quarters of a famous tower with a boy who was obviously getting to me, and although we were speaking the same language, I couldn’t understand a word. Thankfully, I thought, this would soon be over. I seriously doubted he was interested in me.

His tortured expression as he leaned over the balustrade to check out the view made me think he’d rather throw himself over the wall than lean even a millimeter in my direction. It was too much, and I started to laugh—snort, really. I held my hands in front of my mouth to try and stop, but the laughs just popped out of me, giggles gone crazy. I was laughing so hard I was almost crying. My eyes started to water, and I relaxed my body, letting my back drop down the wall to rest myself on the floor.

It took a moment, but then Payton’s face changed. It wasn’t a smile, but maybe amusement. Yes, I’d say he was at least slightly amused. He studied me, and then sat down opposite me. He didn’t say a word. I suddenly noticed that my pendant was doing that burning thing, making my skin feel red-hot, but I was far too caught up in the here and now to give it much attention.

I struggled to regain my composure. Then I gathered all my courage and looked up. Payton was sitting with his legs crossed, leaning against the wall in a way that was meant to look relaxed—and clearly wasn’t. His hands were resting loosely on his thighs, but he was obviously tense. The muscles in his arms looked tight, and his face showed not a bit of levity. To be fair, I was probably more capable of climbing Mount Everest than of appearing cool and relaxed myself.
But, slowly, the first shock of hearing him speak was ebbing away.

All of a sudden I felt scared—if I let the moment pass, he’d get up and go away. The thought was awful. Although I still couldn’t say what made me so drawn to him, I knew something special was happening. Payton was attractive, despite a prominent scar on his chin, but I didn’t think his looks were all there was to it. After all, I had avoided Ryan Baker’s hotness for years. Plus, Ryan had a ready smile and an open personality. Oh, and he flirted with every girl. Payton, on the other hand, showed little expression, and he definitely wasn’t hitting on me. I decided I’d have to take the first step, because it didn’t seem as if Payton were going to make a move.

I looked directly into his eyes, and I felt like I could see pain and desperation in the depths of his being. Then he blinked, and it seemed as if a dense Scottish fog came rolling in, smoothly covering up the feelings he’d revealed there just seconds before.

“Are you all right?” Payton asked, carefully.

“Yes. Thanks. I’m fine now.”

I searched my addled brain for a good excuse for my laughing fit.

“I haven’t had anything to eat in hours, and I was feeling a bit dizzy. I slid into the wall and, for some reason, that seemed hilarious. I’m sorry if I seem crazy…”

He nodded briefly, but didn’t ask anything else.

“I could tell you something about the monument,” he finally said, timidly, “if you would rather stay seated for a moment?”

“That would be great. I was going to read the history display at the back of the souvenir shop, but I couldn’t stand the crowd in there.”

“I hate these tourists. They are like vultures, circling around everything of interest and ruining it for those of us who live here.”

“Hey now. I’m one of those vultures, you know!” I pretended to be upset.

“Mmm, I noticed that, but you seem to have fallen out of the nest somehow, little vulture fledgling.”

I laughed, a little more natural with him now. I had at least reached base camp on the Mount Everest of total calm. “I thought you were going to tell me something about the tower? If you’re just going to rant about us obnoxious tourists, I’ll have to go back to the visitor center and listen to all the historical information there. And I’ll listen to it in four different languages simultaneously!”

“I would be very surprised if you could understand four languages,” he countered, “since you weren’t even able to answer my questions in one language.”

I blushed and threw him a mock angry look. “Very funny!”

“To be honest, I haven’t had this much fun in ages.”

“Then you must really lead a boring life!”

His expression darkened, and he looked past me, staring into the sky. He riffled his fingers through his hair and took a breath. Then in a neutral voice, he started to tell me about the place.

“The Glenfinnan Monument was built in 1815 to mark the place where Prince Charles Stuart’s standard was raised—that’s kind of like a large flag.”

“The Jacobite Rising, right?”

“Yes, exactly.”

My sincere interest in the topic seemed to chase away some of his bad mood, and he kept going with much more enthusiasm. “That was in 1745. Charles came from France and landed on the Western Isles. From there, he rowed to the coast, slightly to the west of here.”