But hewouldfind out.
***
SOMETHING WAS VERY, very wrong. Perhaps she’d exited through a back door and emerged into a part of Edinburgh she’d never visited before, because as she walked down the street, Charlie recognized precisely nothing.
Where was the busy street that the bookshop had been on? Where were the cars and the tourists, the cafes and the pubs?
Nowhere in sight, that’s where. The buildings themselves looked similar—tall narrow tenements crammed together like sardines in a tin—but rather than their lower stories being shops and other businesses, each house appeared to be some sort of grand townhouse with wrought-iron railings and brass knockers on the doors.
And there was no traffic. No cars. No buses. None of those annoying delivery drivers on bikes that wove in an out like dodgems at a fair.
Instead she saw a couple of carts being pulled by horses and the bizarre sight of an elderly gentleman being carried in a sedan chair by two burly men.
What the—? Was she so drunk she’d fallen asleep and was dreaming all this?
She stuttered to a halt, looking around. This made no sense. Where on Earth, was she?
“Is everything all right?”
Charlie spun at the sudden voice and found the man from the wedding reception standing behind her. What had he said his name was? Niall? Niall Campbell?
He was leaning against the side of a building, arms folded over his chest, watching her with interest.
“Yes...No. I’m just...a bit lost,” she confessed, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.
Niall pushed away from the wall and stepped towards her. “Where were ye trying to go?”
“My hotel. But I don’t recognize any of these streets. I should be on the Royal Mile.”
Niall chuckled lightly at her words, the sound resonating in the quiet street. “Lass, yeareon the Royal Mile.”
Charlie glared at him, frustration brewing. “This isn’t funny! I need to get back to my hotel.”
“I apologize.” Niall held up his hands in surrender. “Perhaps I can be of help. What is the name of the inn ye are staying at?”
“The Friar’s Hat.”
“That’s a strange name for an inn.”
“It’s not an inn, it’s a little boutique hotel that I managed to snap up with some vouchers I got for Christmas. According to the travel websites it does the best breakfast in Edinburgh.”
A slightly baffled expression crossed his handsome face before being replaced with his usual charming smile. “Well, I’m afraid I havenae heard of it. What is the address?”
“Address?” Charlie blinked, thinking. Her thoughts were addled by the whisky and she couldn’t quite grasp it. “I...I can’t remember,” she admitted. “I’ll look it up on the internet.” She fumbled in her pocket, pulled out her phone, and squinted, trying to get her blurry eyesight to focus on the screen. But the icon in the corner was flashing to say she had no signal.
Charlie groaned. Damnation! The tall buildings must be blocking the signal. Perhaps if she just held it up—
“What’s that?” Niall asked sharply, staring suspiciously at her phone.
“What does it look like?” she replied, a little irritated by his tone. “It’s my phone. I’m trying to get the address of my hotel.”
But it was no good. No matter how she waved it around, it didn’t pick up a signal. Aargh!
“Do you know where the nearest tourist office is?” she asked Niall. “They could probably direct me to my hotel.”
His eyes were still narrowed and he was gazing at her pocket where she’d deposited her phone. Slowly, he looked up and met her gaze.
“What’s a tourist office?”
