“No, not the custodian. Jock flaming MacGregor.”
“You mean you actually met him? What’s he like?”
“Rude, snappy,” she said before sighing loudly. “And drop dead gorgeous.”
“You like him,” Tabby replied in a teasing voice. “Don’t you?”
“No, I do not like him.”
“Yes, you do. I can tell by your voice. You want him, you love him. He’s your handsome highland laird ready to sweep you up on his horse and ride off into the sunset with you and a pair of bagpipes for company.”
Daisy felt her cheeks turning crimson. “He looked okay, all right. But he was rude to me and I’m not going back up there.”
“Please, Daisy. You don’t have to do it today. I’ll say he wasn’t in to take it. The last day for him to sign is Monday. I’ll lose the bonus for a late delivery but that’s better than losing a whole week’s pay.”
“You might be well enough to take it up there yourself by then.”
“Maybe.”
She wasn’t well enough. By Monday, she seemed no better at all.
Daisy had spent the weekend trying not to think about Jock MacGregor, especially not the way his muscles had rippled across his chest, the way his deep gravelly voice made her go all wobbly inside, the way his eyes pierced deep inside her and made her want to grovel at his feet like she was the lowliest member of his clan.
She thought about how it would have been in the Middle Ages to have met the laird of a clan. Would she even have been allowed that close to him as an outsider? Would she have been expected to curtsey or did that come in later centuries? That was something else to look up.
She spent much of the weekend out in the sun, doing her best to darken her porcelain pale skin. She almost managed to forget him, how hot he’d looked, the way he’d stared hungrily at her like a wolf might look at a lamb that’s escaped from the flock, like he might swallow her up whole without breaking a sweat.
On both Saturday and Sunday night, under the influence of too much wine, she found herself talking to Tabby about him.
Tabby consulted her tarot cards on Sunday night after two bottles of wine were empty and Daisy told her, “It was like he could see through my clothes. I’ve never known anyone like that. Like I was naked in front of him. It was so strange, do you know what I mean?”
“Sit there,” Tabby said, hauling herself into an upright position, pushing the wine glasses to one side on the coffee table. “Time to see what the cards say.”
She had a specific love tarot set and she shuffled them for a minute while Daisy drained the last of the Merlot from her glass.
“Pick three,” Tabby said, fanning the pack out in front of her. “Lay them face down.”
Daisy did as she was told, looking at the three she’d chosen lined up on the coffee table. Was there any truth to tarot? She had no idea but she knew Tabby believed in it as fervently as she did in dreamcatchers, crystal skulls, time travel, and daily horoscopes.
Tabby flipped over the first card. “The coachman.”
“What does that mean?” Daisy asked, looking at the image closely, a man whipping his horses as they rode frantically down a green hillside. “Let me guess, it means I’m going back to his castle.”
“It normally means you’re going on a journey but the second card should clarify what type.” She turned over the middle card of the three. “The clock. That’s unusual.”
“Why? What does that mean?”
“Usually it means time is running out or the passage of time but I’ve never seen that card together with the coachman. Together they mean time going backward and then a journey but that doesn’t mean anything, does it?”
“Maybe I’m about to become a time traveler.” She laughed but Tabby’s face remained set.
“You shouldn’t joke about such things. These are serious forces we’re dealing with.”
“Come on, Tabby. I’m not about to be whisked into the past just because a card says so.”
“Let’s see what the third card holds, then we’ll talk about it.”
She flipped it over. “The castle. That’s really odd. That’s not part of the love tarot set.” She shrugged. “I guess this one got mixed in from the others.” She picked up the cards and piled them neatly together before pouring out more wine. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were about to go back in time to a castle. Maybe MacGregor Castle?”
