The question hung in the air, stretching thin the fragile thread that suspended Charlie’s last ounce of patience. She didn’t know if it was the whisky, her sudden disorientation, or Niall’s infuriatingly calm demeanor, but she felt a surge of anger.
“What do you mean, what’s a tourist office?” she shot back, arms crossed defiantly. “Are you messing with me?”
Niall looked taken aback by her outburst. “I assure ye, miss, I am not. I have never heard of such a thing.”
Charlie shook her head. How could anyone living in this citynotknow what a tourist office was? Edinburgh was practically swarming with tourists year-round.
“Alright,” she sighed deeply, trying to quell her rising frustration. “If you won’t help me find a tourist office, maybe you can at least point me to the nearest phone booth?”
Again, that baffled look crossed his face. “Phone booth?”
“Yes, phone booth,” Charlie snapped. “You know, a public telephone?”
Niall stared at her for a moment longer, before shaking his head slowly. “I havenae heard of such a thing.”
Now it was Charlie’s turn to be baffled. She studied Niall closely. Was he crazy? Or wasshethe one losing her mind?
“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll find it myself.”
She turned abruptly, intending to march off into the winding cobblestone streets of Edinburgh. However, the drink she’d consumed and the sudden movement conspired to make the world tilt dangerously. She stumbled, a small cry slipping past her lips, certain she was about to face-plant into the unforgiving stone.
But strong arms caught her just in time, steadying her before she fell.
“Easy there,” Niall’s voice was low and soft. He held her easily. “Ye’re not in any condition to navigate these streets alone.”
Charlie pushed against him lightly. “I’m fine,” she protested weakly, even though they both knew it wasn’t true. His scent—earthy and spicy—enveloped her, and seemed to make the world spin all the more.
“Ye canna go off on yer own,” he said quietly, his breath stirring the loose curls framing her face. His eyes held hers, his gaze intense. “Dusk is coming and the streets are no place for a woman after dark. Especially one in yer....vulnerable state.”
Charlie swallowed hard, trying to rein in her racing heart. She didn’t know if it was his proximity or the booze or a combination of the two that had her pulse hammering. “What do you propose then?”
“I’ve got a townhouse not far from here,” he offered, releasing her but keeping a steadying hand on the small of her back. “Ye are welcome to stay.”
“No way, buster,” she slurred, prodding him in the chest with one finger. “You really think that line is going to work on me? I’m notthatdrunk.”
“Lass, ye areverydrunk. But if it is yer modesty ye are concerned about, I give ye my word as a gentleman that ye are safe. I offer ye a guest room only. And besides, my housekeeper, Mrs Ramsey, runs a respectable household. She would skin me alive if I even entertained the idea of doing anything ‘improper’.”
Charlie squinted at him. “Housekeeper? You mean like a live-in maid?”
Niall snorted. “Aye, something akin to that, I suppose. Although dinna let her hear ye call her that. Mrs Ramsey has been with my family for years. She’s a formidable woman and keeps everything in order.”
Charlie pursed her lips, studying him intently. His face was honest and open, and in her intoxicated state, the prospect of navigating the labyrinthine streets of Edinburgh on her own was becoming less appealing by the second.
“Okay...” Charlie finally conceded, her words swallowed by the cool evening wind. “But if you try anything funny I warn you, I have a black belt in karate.” She didn’t, but he didn’t need to know that.
Niall offered her his arm, a gesture that was both gentlemanly and practical given her swaying stance. Charlie leaned on him more than she would have liked, her steps unsteady on the cobblestones.
As they walked, Charlie gawked. Nothing around her looked like the Edinburgh she knew. As it grew darker, no streetlights flickered into life. No pubs opened their doors to send their music blaring into the night. No bands of revelers staggered past, laughing and singing. Everything was dark and eerily quiet. The only other people they saw were a middle-aged couple walking in a stately manner in the opposite direction. The couple greeted Niall politely and he responded in kind, before they continued on their way.
What the hell was going on? Why was everyone dressed so strangely? Like they wereallgoing to a historical-themed wedding reception?
She and Niall turned a corner and came upon a large, elegant townhouse. It was an imposing structure, built of the same dark stone that characterized much of the city.
A few lights shone from the windows, casting a warm glow onto the street below. Niall led Charlie up the steps to the front door. Before they reached it though, the door swung open to reveal a tall, thin woman with her hair tied in a bun.
She looked the two of them over with a slightly disapproving air. “My lord,” she greeted Niall with the barest of curtseys. “I trust ye had a pleasant evening.”
“I did, Mrs Ramsey. This is Charlotte. A guest. Please see that she is made comfortable.”
