“For a living.”
“Ah.” He frowned as if still confused by the question. “I fix things. Such as the tasks Mairwen asked me to do here.”
“But you said you’re not from around here.”
“I am not.” He shifted in the chair as though uncomfortable, making her wonder if he was lying. “My home is not in this…part of Scotland. Life requires that I roam to survive.”
Then every light went out, plunging them into dreary shadows broken only by the glow of the fire in the small woodstove.
“Speaking of surviving,” she said, “I hope Keeva bought the stuff on my emergency supplies list.” She eased out from under Otto, went into the kitchen, then felt her way into the windowless pantry. “Holy crap, it’s darker than the inside of a cow in here.”
“Ye’ve been inside a cow?” Mathison asked from not very far behind her.
“No, it’s just a figure of speech. I’m from the south.” She patted the back pocket of her jeans, searching for her phone, then remembered she had left it in the kitchen. “Could you feel around on the counter for my phone? I think I left it on the charger. Try over there in the corner by the coffeemaker.”
“Yer phone?”
Why did he sound like he was about to panic? Rather than try to explain, she felt her way back out of the dark pantry. “That’s okay. I’ll find it. I know it feels weird searching around someone else’s house for their stuff.”
“Aye, weird.”
She banged her knee on the corner of the cabinet and clenched her teeth to keep from cursing out loud. Even though Gillian was gone, she still tried to keep her language clean enough for a child’s ears.
“Are ye all right, lass?”
“Fine. Just hit my knee.” She limped deeper into the kitchen, found her phone, then turned on its flashlight. “Let there be light.” She waved Mathison forward. “Come on, you can help carry the candles.”
“Gladly.”
She noted that he sounded a great deal more relaxed than he had earlier. Not only was he a rare man, but he was also a bit odd. She went to hand him her phone, and he backed up a step as if she were trying to hand him a rattlesnake. In the shadows, she couldn’t quite make out his expression, but his body language shouted extreme leeriness. “What’s wrong? I just need you to hold the light while I get the box with my emergency supplies.”
He squared his shoulders as if she’d insulted him. “Nothing is wrong, lass. ’Tis merely difficult to see.” He snatched the phone out of her hand and aimed the beam of light into the pantry.
On the bottom shelf in the farthest corner, she found several boxes of the just-in-case supplies she’d requested, along with regular pantry staples. “I found them.”
Back in the kitchen, she placed a couple of the tall, fat pillar candles on plates, struck a match, and lit them. “There. Much better.” She looked all around.
“What are ye searching for now?”
She laughed. “I figured once we went to the trouble of digging out the candles and getting them lit, that the power would come back on. That’s how it usually works.” She picked up the pair of glowing pillars, carried them into the living room, and set them on the coffee table.
Mathison went to the woodstove and stoked the fire. “’Tis not cold in here yet, but the damp will creep in afore ye know it.”
“I wonder if this happens often. I might have to look into getting one of those house generators.”
“Indeed.” He went to the double garden doors and stared out at the wet darkness, his reflection in the glass troubled.
She sensed something was very wrong, but had no idea what. She started to tell him she’d been nicer to him than most males she’d come across over the past two years, but decided that might not sound right. “Are you all right?”
He resettled his stance. His dark kilt, hanging low on his hips, swayed back and forth like a pendulum ticking off a death knell. “I am fine, lass. Dinna fash yerself about me.”
“I’m sorry you’re trapped here, but I’m glad you didn’t start for Seven Cairns in this storm.”
He folded his arms across his broad chest but didn’t turn and face her. “Why?”
“Why?”
“Why would ye be glad that I didn’t test the power of the storm?”
