“Pregnant. Couple months, I think.” He shrugged. “That one time without a condom bit me in the arse, so now I gotta pay. Marriage or child support. Leastwise with marriage, I’ll get me house cleaned and meals cooked.”
What a despicable, self-centered arse. She truly felt sorry for Lucy Hamstead. “So when ye told me ye were working extra shifts, ye were really working her. Right?” Not that it mattered. What made her angriest was he was breaking up with her before she could break up with him.
He shrugged again. “It’s different for a man. One woman ain’t always enough.”
“Well, I’ve got news for ye—ye now have one less woman to treat like shite.” She shoved the ring into his mouth. “Here’s yer bloody ring. I hope ye damn well choke on it.”
Without waiting for his reaction, she shouldered open the door and wrangled her way out of the car. The heavy layers of cloak, skirt, and petticoat worked against her, tangling around her feet. Angry tears burst free. How had she let herself believe she could change him? Fury at being made to look like the greatest sort of fool grew stronger. Bitterness at her gullibility made her sob. She didn’t look like a fool. She was one.
The sky chose that moment to explode into rippling bands of brilliant green, violet, and red. Shafts of light danced tall and proud across the horizon as far as she could see. The icy wind roared in her ears as it shoved against her back, making her stumble forward.
“I have been such a feckin’ idiot,” she shouted at the breathtaking spectacle. “Why?” Blinded by tears, deafened by the wind and sea, she dropped to her knees. Or tried to. But the land was gone. She pitched forward, frantically clawing to stop her fall. The colors of the aurora borealis increased in intensity. They swirled around her, becoming so bright she squinted against the phenomenon’s brilliance. An eerie humming vibrated through her, making her feel as if her bones were about to shake off her flesh.
She balled up and tumbled faster, bracing herself for the final impact. She just hoped the pain didn’t last long. Whether she hit frigid water, razor-sharp stones, or both, death was imminent. Vertigo took over. Or maybe the world was spinning and not her. She couldn’t tell anymore. Why was the fall lasting so long? Or was she already dead and hadn’t realized it till now? An ear-splitting howl made her slap her hands over her ears. Churning nausea hit, sending the burn of bile into her throat. She gagged and retched in midair, then dry-heaved until her insides felt turned inside out. Everything went black and silent.
Then she hit. Hard.
Chapter Two
The abrupt stopknocked the wind out of her. Lorna lay there wheezing and struggling to suck in air for what felt like forever. Before doing anything other than trying to breathe, she assessed herself for injuries. Arms and legs were numb with the cold but not hurting or bent to any strange angles. Everything responded when she twitched it, so no paralysis. No taste of blood or loose teeth. Her jaw ached a bit. Stomach still churned, but why wouldn’t it after all that? The longer she lay there concentrating on calming down, the steadier she felt. She pulled in a deep breath. No broken ribs. Thank goodness for that.
With her cheek against the hard, frozen ground, she frowned at her fingers laced through spikes of frost-covered grass. What the devil had just happened? She must be dead. That was the only excuse for the lack of pain. Well—she had some pain. But nothing worse than the time she had banged around inside a barrel when rolled down a hill on a dare.
Then she became more aware of her surroundings. Patches of icy grass instead of a rocky beach or the sea. How? Another bout of dizziness hit as she gingerly pushed up to a sitting position. A glance upward bewildered her even more. How had night already gone to the gray fuzziness of a wintry morning? At least, she thought it was morning. She couldn’t really tell from the heavy blanket of low-hanging clouds.
“If this is the afterlife, somebody got it all wrong.” Of course, if hell was hot, maybe heaven was cold. She eased around, turning in a slow circle, taking in everything. “This is not heaven. I know this place.” This was the grassy part of the overlook that led up to the edge of the cliff. The more she studied the area, the more her confusion churned. Where was the road? The wide car park? Everything was familiar, but not.
She felt her head for any knots or bumps. Other than a few sore spots, she had none. But still—the fall must have addled her enough to make her black out for a while. That would explain the disorientation and loss of time. But how had she ended up here in one piece instead of in the water or stabbed by the rocks at the base of the cliff? And where the devil was Patrick? Had he just left her here to die? Aye, he was a selfish bastard, but this was extreme even for him.
A harsh gust of wind stung her cheeks, bringing with it the clean, crisp smell of a snowstorm on the rise. She held out her hand and stared at it. Tiny bits of icy whiteness pelted her skin, melting on contact. Her fingers turned bright red and burned with the cold.
“Gloves,” she mumbled, then patted her clothing. Clothing. Wait—she wasn’t wearing her winter coat. “Oh, bloody hell. I hope I haven’t ruined anything. That pricy costume deposit is as good as gone.”
Still unsteady, she made it to her feet and brushed herself off. Near as she could tell, she hadn’t damaged anything—neither clothing nor herself. The snow fell faster, large, wet flakes that promised deep drifts in no time. She tucked her hands into her armpits to warm them and shrugged deeper into the cloak. “I should have taken those fingerless gloves and wrist warmers the clerk offered.”
The walk back to town would warm her. She squinted up at the sky again, trying to find the brightest spot in the grayness. “I wonder what time it is.” She hadn’t worn her watch to look more authentic. Increasing her pace, she berated herself with every step. “It is my fault I ended up out in the cold like this. Should have sent that self-centered dobber packing weeks ago.”
She soon forgot her irritation with herself as the snow pelted down faster and walking became more difficult. Huddling deep in the hooded cloak to escape the cutting wind, she stared downward, watching her boot tips as the layers of icy, wet whiteness forced her to work harder to clear the drifts. As the incline leveled out, she halted to catch her breath. The intersection at the edge of town should be just up ahead.
“Much more trudging like this and Gracie can go to the gym by herself tonight.” She shoved back her hood and squinted through the weather, searching for the brightly decorated windows of Hook’s Cafe. It should only be a bit farther. Strange that none of the lights were strong enough to shine through the storm.
An eerie shiver not caused by the weather rippled across her. She looked back in the direction from which she had come, then turned and strained to see through the blowing snow in front of her.
Thurso, or at least some sign of it, should be visible by now. This was the bottom of the hill, the base of the turnoff at the crossroads that led to the overlook. Hook’s Cafe, Ferguson’s market, Benson Petrol Station, and the shuttered Bits and Bobs shop should be right there. Where were the street signs? The utility poles? She stared at the space filled with nothing but drifts and a few dark, scrubby bushes and trees poking through the glistening white mounds.
“Where the hell am I?” Was she really dead? “Just stop!” This was no time to panic or go barmy with the cold. She just hadn’t walked as far as she thought. That was all. All she needed to do was soldier on.
A muffled clattering off in the distance drew her attention to the left. It also filled her with relief. At least she wasn’t alone anymore. A steady creaking of wood and leather, along with the jangling of chains, became louder. Something snorted. Or at least it sounded like a snort. The snow made everything muffled.
She retreated a step and squinted to focus on the team of monstrous, hairy-footed draft horses churning into view. They pulled an amazing replica of an antique carriage behind them.
“Feathering,” she said, still stunned at the sight. “Not hairy-footed.” Her breath fogged in the frigid air as she snorted. “Like thatreallymatters right now. I guess I better stop thinking out loud. They might be afraid to help me because I seem crazy.” She always talked out loud when alone. Seemed as natural as talking to a friend.
As the beasts drew nearer, the authenticity of the rig amazed her. Why in the world would they be in Thurso on a day like today? Not sure if it was safe or not, she hopped in place and flagged them down. “Help me! Please!”
The driver perched high on the front of the coach jerked to stiff-backed attention and pulled on the reins. “Whoa, laddies!” The magnificent beasts lurched to a stop, seeming disappointed to do so. They stomped and shook their heads, rattling their gear as if signaling this was no time for dawdling.
Fighting the slippery ground, Lorna floundered closer. “Thank ye so much for stopping! Might I get a lift into Thurso?”
