Winter's End (14 page)

Lisa pulled Emma aside.
“Tell me that wasn’t your date?”

Emma winced, nodding
her head.

“Is that why he’s
ditched you for his elite friends there?”

“We just met, Lisa.
We hardly know each other.” She didn’t understand why she was defending him
after his insults earlier.

“That’s no reason,
Emma,” she sneered. “He accompanied you here. He should be here, by your side.”
She swallowed a mouthful of champagne. “Just goes to show that having money
doesn’t necessarily mean having good manners.”

*****

The music blared on
stage. People swayed and rocked along with it. Chatter and laughter swept rife
through the air.

Despite Emma’s
disappointing start to the evening, she was beginning to really enjoy the
dance. Bill, Noah and Max were quite obliging as they took turns to jive with her
on the dance floor. Grace and Belinda meanwhile offered their sympathies for
her missing date.

Returning from the
ladies, she saw her new found friends in the distance laughing at their table.
She was glad she had come.

“Hello there,”
someone said.

She turned. “Hi,” she
said. She didn’t believe she had ever met him or she would have certainly
remember that beautiful soft blonde hair.

“I’m Ethan Wells,” he
said, smiling. “I just wanted to say that I waded across a room of sweaty
dancers and drunken fools to tell you that you look extremely beautiful in that
dress.”

She grinned. “I’m
Emma,” she said. “Is that the best you can do?”

He hiked a shoulder,
shrugging. “It may be the worst pick-up line in history but it’s the truth.”

She laughed. “Well,
you should know it is a terrible pick-up line. But I can’t say that I have
heard too many to rate it as the worst.”

“That’s encouraging.
So do I still stand a chance to buy you a drink?”

“I don’t drink. But I
don’t mind a glass of orange juice.”

“Oh? Any particular
reason you don’t drink?” he asked, frowning.

“None other than my
picky preference not to.”

“How intriguing? A
woman that doesn’t drink and holds onto her principles even in a mass majority
of charming drunks. You’ve just become exotic.”

She laughed again. “Is
that so? I’m going to assume that you say that to all women.”

“
Aah
,”
he said, pretending to wince. “I admit that I admire all women, especially
beautiful ones. But you’re my first exotic crush.”

“You
are
terrible,” she said, chuckling.

He gave her a wide,
one-sided grin. A little twinkle lit his cheeky eyes. “Yeah, I suppose I am.
Usually it is women who drop the line on me. I, on the other hand, am terribly
inexperienced and naive.” He indicated to the bar tender for a glass of orange
juice. The bar tender whipped it out and handed it to her. “So where are you
from, really?” he asked her.

“Was it my accent
that gave it away?” she said.

“No, not at all,” he
said, grinning. “It’s the rarity of your beauty.”

She sipped at her
juice, hoping he wouldn’t notice her reddening cheeks. “I used to live in
London before I moved to
Breakish
about six months
ago.”

He pursed his lips,
nodding thoughtfully. “An urban immigrant. What was it about the Isle of Skye
that attracted you? The rural lure?”

“I suppose. And that
I find it is one of the most beautiful places on earth.”

“I concur absolutely.
In fact, it has been voted the fourth best island in the world by the National
Geographic’s Magazine.”

“Really?” she said,
wonderment filling her eyes.

“Well, yes,” he
continued. “It certainly is magical. And I mean in it in the literal sense of
the word.”

“Like magic
magic
?” she asked.

“Like faeries. Legend
has it that long
long
ago, the chief of the
MacLeods
Clan married a fairy wife. Soon they had a baby
boy. When the boy was about an year old, the fairy wife was summoned back to
her world and there was nothing the chief could say or do to keep her from
going. He begged and pleaded for her to stay until finally she rose into the
air and dropped the finest silk to the ground, landing it at his feet. “Keep
this flag,” she said. “Unfurl it whenever you are in a crisis. But be warned,
you may only unfurl it twice. Should you unfurl it the third time, you shall be
carried off to another world, never to be seen again.” Well, as it is, the flag
remains to this day, safely protected at
Dunvegan
Castle.”

“So there really is
such a flag?”

“Yes.”

“Was it ever
unfurled?”

“Yes, but only twice.
No one has dared to unfurl it the third time.”

“Wow,” she said,
speechless with amazement.

He gave a hollow
laugh. “Actually, it has been said to be unfurled numerous times.”

“So the legend isn’t
true?”

“I don’t know. There
are
other
legends but you’ve got to agree this one’s quite magical,
right?”

“So there are more
rational explanations, I presume, to why they have the flag?”

“I won’t deny there
are. There are beliefs that the flag might even be a relic of a saint’s shirt
and passed down to an ancestor of the
MacLeods
clan.
However, it stands to this day that the
MacLeods
will
not believe in anything other than it was gifted to them by the faeries.”

“What do you
believe?”

He shrugged his
shoulders, uncertainly. “Probably it was given to them by the faeries.
Sometimes it’s good to believe in something so magical as that. It gives this
dull world some life, don’t you think? Besides, there are tales that there are
still supernatural powers attached to the flag. Supposedly a MacLeod clan
member survived his bombing missions over Germany because he carried a
photograph of the flag in his pocket.”

“How extraordinary,”
Emma said, captivated by his enigmatic narration.

“Yes,” he said,
nodding. “In Scottish Gaelic, the flag is known as
Am
Bratach
Sith.
” He leaned closer to her, looking into her eyes. “Like I said, it still
can be seen to this day in
Dunvegan
Castle.
 
Maybe…if you had the time, I could show it to
you?”

“I,
er
…,” she swallowed nervously, mesmerised by his eyes.

“She can’t,” someone
said hoarsely. “She’s with me.”

She felt an arm
around her waist, pulling her away from the man called Ethan Wells. She looked
up in stunned disbelief. It was Christopher Cameron.

He pulled her roughly
to the dance floor, almost dragging her off her feet.

“What do you think
you’re doing?” she said angrily, almost shouting it out above the noise in the
dance hall.

“I escorted you
here,” he said. “I believe you owe me at least a dance.”

“You abandoned me at
the door. Hell, you were too willing to escape from me the moment you stepped
out of your car. What makes you think I want to dance with you!” She tried to
twist herself out of his clutches, but he gripped her wrist tightly.

“You looked willing
enough to go on a day trip to
Dunvegan
Castle with
Ethan Wells. I’m sure you can afford a dance with me.” He held her tightly and
began to sway to the now soft, slow music.

She looked around
slightly embarrassed when she realised that she was beginning to draw attention
from onlookers and other couples on the dance floor. She bent her head, deliberately
paying critical attention to the small logo on his blazer as the muscularity of
his torso would unwillingly have melted away her anger. She despised this man,
she reminded herself.

“Ethan Wells is a
gentleman,” she said firmly. Her spine stiffened, tensing the features in her
face. “You, on the other hand, are the most abominable, despicable man I have
ever met.”

His arm at her waist
bound her close to him, almost suffocating her. He leant into her ear.

“You should be
grateful that I saved you from the likes of Ethan Wells,” he said, his breath
tingling her neck.

She writhed in his
arms but the more she did, the tighter he clasped her. She caught his eyes.
They had darkened and smouldering with anger. Shocked briefly, she stalled her
fight for freedom. And when she did, so did his arms as they slowly began to ease
around her.

“I need to go to
bed,” he said, suddenly. “Where are you staying in
Dunvegan
?”

“Aren’t you returning
tonight?” she said, panic seeping into her voice.

“No.”

“We have to return
tonight. I have kids,” she demanded.

“Well, I’m not going
back tonight. It’s almost midnight and I will not risk driving back at such an
hour.”

“I can drive,” she
insisted.

“Not my car.”

“But my kids…”

“Don’t be too
dramatic. They’re with Grandma. And from what I’ve seen, they seem far fond of
the old woman to be shaken over their mother’s late date night. Give Gran a call
and tell her we would be leaving tomorrow. Something tells me she won’t mind it
at all.”

“But I haven’t booked
a room. I don’t know if there would be one available at this hour,” she said,
worriedly.

“You didn’t book a
room?” His voice growled, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“I didn’t think this
was going to be a night’s affair. I didn’t expect to be staying in
Dunvegan
.”

He dropped her hand
and pulled away from her. “Well, you can always get a taxi back. Otherwise, I
suggest you start looking for a place to stay.”

“But where am I going
to start looking at this time of the night?”

He gave a short, blazing
glance and walked away from her leaving her standing, muddled in the middle of
the dance floor.

She watched him vanish
among the dancing mass once more. Close to tears and feeling abandoned, she
dragged herself to Lisa’s table. Her mind raced rapidly, sifting through her
options. She prayed inwardly that Lisa would be returning tonight. She just
might be able to hitch herself a ride with her. If all was well, she would be
back in her own bed in a few hours. The possibility comforted her, giving way
to further anger and hatred for Chris Cameron.

*****

“But we’ve booked a
room,” said Lisa, concerned for her friend. “What will you do since every room
is booked here as well. I’m really sorry, Emma.”

“No, that’s fine,”
Emma answered, dishearteningly. “It’s my fault.”

Lisa rubbed Emma’s
elbows in an attempt to comfort her. “I don’t know what to say, Emma. I just
expected that you would be arranging all this with your date or I would have
advised you to reserve a room also. I really wouldn’t have minded you joining
us at all. But this is all too sudden. Oh, that beastly, detestable fellow,”
she snorted out angrily. “And to imagine women foaming at their mouths at the
mere sight of him makes me throw up. How could he do this to you? How could he
do this at all just makes me spin in bloody spitting amazement,” she spat out
with sarcasm.

“Lisa,” Emma said,
trying to calm her down. “It’s fine. I’m sure I can work this out somehow.”

“Oh, you poor thing,”
said Grace, sympathetically. “Such an awful man, he must be. I’d be happy to
kick him in the groin for you,
darl
. Just point him
out to me.”

Emma smiled. If only
Grace knew it was Chris Cameron’s crotch she was offering to kick, she wouldn’t
be as keen as she had just sounded.

“Thanks Grace,” she
said instead.

“Why don’t you girls
share the bed?” offered Lisa’s husband thoughtfully.

“You sure,
hon
?” said Lisa.

“Of course,” Bill
replied. “We can’t leave Emma hunting a room at this hour in the night. I can
take the couch and we’ll all leave tomorrow together.”

“Oh, thank you,
Bill,” said Emma, almost tearing now with joy. “That’s if Lisa
doesn
‎
’t
mind.”

“Honey,” she replied.
“That’s the best idea my husband has come up with in a long time. You’d be
crazy to pass it on. Hell, if I were you, I’d be crazy not to take it up.”

They all broke out
into laughter.

“I’m sorry, I
couldn't help overhearing,” interrupted a voice. “But am I right in saying that
the beautiful lady here was overwrought about not being able to return home
tonight?”

“Ethan,” said Emma.
“Hi.”

“We meet again,” said
Ethan, smiling.