She quickened her pace as if walking faster would help her escape the growing sense of uneasiness gnawing at her. The farther they walked, the more the landscape looked noticeably different. As impossible as that seemed—she couldn’t ignore it. It was… less civilized, for lack of a better way to describe it. Trees, bushes, and clusters of tall weeds and grasses covered the area. Quite a change from yesterday. Not a single one of the several trails she had seen showed up anywhere. Nor any of the signage that herded the tourists and kept them from getting lost. She slowed to a complete halt and stared up at the monstrosity of a boulder on her right.
“I know there was a blasted sign here,” she said under her breath. Pressing both hands on the sun-warmed rock, she kicked aside the overgrown sedge that wasn’t there yesterday. She stared at the ground. There was no possible way it grew that quickly. Today, the natural monolith looked in dire need of a thorough trimming.
“This is east, right?” she asked without taking her hands from the stone.
“Aye, we’re traveling east.” Quinn shielded his eyes, squinted at the horizon, then gave her a quizzical look. “Why?”
She pushed away from the rock. The icy knot tightening in her chest almost cut off her air. A refusal to acknowledge or give in to her growing panic made her square her shoulders and resettle her pack. “I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t gotten off track.” The distant shush of tumbling waters helped calm her. There it was—the next set of falls. And the too touristy footbridge would be right there. The picnic area. Tables. Trash bins. All just up ahead. The trail back to the car park would be right where she had left it. Everything would be all right, and maybe she’d have her own head examined when she got Quinn’s checked.
“Might we get some water and rest in the shade for a wee spell?”
Ashamed that she had ignored her patient while wallowing in her own foolish worries, Evie took hold of his arm. The poor man had gone pale as milk, and a sheen of sweat glistened across his forehead. “Sunshine has your head pounding worse, doesn’t it?”
“Aye,” he said, as if admitting to it made him less of a man.
She knew he felt a great deal worse when he allowed her to steady him as they made their way down the hillside toward the water’s edge. “Mind the stones now,” she said, catching hold around his waist as he stumbled. “The last thing you need is a tumble.” Her concern grew even more when he didn’t even growl or grumble that he could manage it alone.
They made it to a mossy embankment shaded by a large oak. Teeth bared, Quinn lowered himself to one of the gnarled roots that popped up from the earth like the knuckle of a mighty finger. After scrubbing a hand across his face, he leaned forward, propped his elbows on his knees, and held his head. “The wee pebbles are nay working as well today, Evie.” His tortured rasping squeezed her heart, making her wish she could erase his suffering completely.
“Today will be bad.” She slid off her pack and sorted through it until she found a cup and the t-shirt he’d used as a pillow. “Sit tight. Water and a cool compress are on the way. We’ll stay here as long as you need.”
She skittered down the bank to the fast-moving water, scooped up a cupful, then soaked the soft cotton shirt and wrung it out. As she straightened, the sight of the falls up ahead gave her the hard jolt of a bared electrical wire. That water feature was the one she had seen on the internet. In fact, her current viewpoint was probably where the travel photographer had taken the shot. One slight problem. Not a bridge in sight. Nor a tourist viewing platform. No smattering of benches offering weary hikers a comfortable place to enjoy the play of the water. Nothing but banks overgrown with ferns and an occasional boulder peeping above them.
“My sanity has left me,” she whispered. There was no way on God’s green earth that she had lost her way and gotten turned around. Not this time. The bridge. Where was it? Yesterday, she had avoided this place because of the nauseating lovebirds with all their clinginess. She looked off to the left. Yes. Right there. She distinctly remembered turning off into the woods just there. Then she came upon the different waterfall. And the cat. “What in Heaven’s name is going on here?”
“Evie?” Quinn’s concerned call broke through her paralyzing confusion.
“Coming.” She wet the shirt in the cold water again, determined to keep her mind on task to keep from teetering over into hysteria and running screaming through the woods.
“I called ye twice, woman. Dinna make me worry after ye like that again.” Some color had returned to his face, but he still looked a bit peaked.
“Sorry.” She offered the cup of water, then moved behind him, gently scooped up his hair, and placed the cool, damp cloth against the back of his neck. “Keep leaning forward. I’d prefer your dressing remain dry.”
He eased out a sigh and rolled his shoulders. “That helps. Thank ye, lass.”
“Of course,” she said, speaking the words out of reflex. She sat and massaged her temples. Lost. That was the only plausible excuse. She had somehow gotten turned around.
“Ye dinna look well.”
“Idinnafeel well.” She shouldn’t do that. This was bloody Scotland. The last thing she needed to do was make fun of his brogue. “How familiar are you with this area?”
His brow furrowed as he resettled himself on the large tree root. “This is the land of my ancestors. MacTaggart is a sept of Ross, but this area has always been under our clan’s care.”
“So, you would say you’re quite familiar with all the waterfalls here?”
“Aye. I’ve swum in the pools and tickled fish from the streams.”
“But you know nothing of a car park over in that direction…” She pointed to be sure he understood. “Say… a couple of kilometers from where we sit now?”
He looked at her as if he thought her mad. “I dinna ken what a car park is, lass.”
She must not panic. This man suffered from a concussion. However, the tiny voice in the back of her mind laughed altogether too loudly. That same voice also reminded her how well he appeared to be managing compared to some head injury patients she had treated.
“You are Chieftain Quinn MacTaggart of Clan MacTaggart—right?”
His concerned scrutiny tightened, narrowing his eyes further. “Aye,” he agreed, his tone leery.
“When were you born?” She couldn’t evade the question any longer.
