“Ye’re American.” He shrugged when she raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “I recognize yer accent.” All those years observing the tourists visiting Culloden had at least taught him that.
The woman folded her arms, touched her injured foot to the ground and resettled her weight on her good leg. “Idon’t have an accent.Youhave the accent. But yes, I’m American.” She glanced nervously at the steep embankment behind her and frowned, obviously realizing climbing back up was all but impossible. “Bothmy friend and I are. He’s abigAmerican. Strong. A…weightlifter.” Trying to look confident, she scanned the steep drop-off again, then peered up and down the stream, absentmindedly rubbing her backside, once more.
Reginald smiled; certain she wasnae even aware of the action. He dinnae ken what a weightlifter was, but since there was some doubt the friend even existed, ’twas unlikely he would meet one, this night.
“Ye’re hurt, lass.” He nodded at her foot. “Will ye allow me tae take a look?”
She scowled at him. “No. I’m fine. Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll return to my…uh…companion.”
But she stayed, chewed her lip and hobbled only a couple of steps. She was, indeed, hurt. And clearly too stubborn to admit it.
Though he could think of naught more pleasing than conversing with this strangely enchanting woman, he yearned to ease her growing distress. He wished she’d sit and stop swaying on one foot while trying to protect the other.
“Would ye like some help gettin’ back tae the top, then?” Reginald asked, unsure, just yet, how to get her there. “Or…did ye come down here lookin’ for somethin’ in particular? Besides yer talking device?”
“Talking device? Oh. You mean my cell phone. No, I wasn’t looking for anything.” Her lips thinned slightly, under a wrinkled brow. “Well… Yes…I guess I was…sort of. I was searching for a few bars.”
He’d heard the tourists refer to taverns asbars. Interesting. She didnae look like…well, her drinkin’ habits were none of his business. Still, he was puzzled. “Ye were in need of more than one?”
“Two, at least. More if I could find them.” She frowned and worried her bottom lip even further, drawing Reginald’s attention to its fullness, tucked between small, perfect, white teeth.
“I’m sorry. I dinnae ken for sure, mind ye, but I doubt there are any tae be found in this area.”
“Obviously.”
’Twas clear the lass was agitated, mayhap even a wee bit frightened and clearer still that her ‘weightlifter’ wouldnae be rushing in to save her. ’Twas time to eliminate her fear at least, though he wasnae sure how to help with the rest of her trouble.
“Dinnae fash, lass. I mean ye no harm. I’d be honored tae see ye tae yer friend or, if ye still wish it, I could try tae help ye locate some bars.”
“Bars won’t help me now. As you’ve already observed, my phone is broken.” She gave him a suspicious look. “And you never answered me. Why areyouhere?”
’Twas hard to gather and hold the woman’s scattered focus long enough to make sense of her questions. “I’m travelin’ back tae my home…uh, tae where my ancestors once lived. ’Tis no’ far from here.” He dipped his head. “I am Reginald McColl. At yer service.”
She laughed. “At myservice?Are you for real?”
Apparently, ’twas something in his offer the lass found amusing. At least she’d elicited a very enchanting laugh.
“I’m sorry,” she said, studiously wiping away her smile. “I’m Lauren Bradford. It’s…umm…bizarrelynice to meet you…I guess.”
Och! Americans were strange creatures, indeed. Reginald wasnae quite sure how to respond. Instead, he indicated the growing twilight. “ ’Twill no’ be light much longer, lass. Mayhap ’tis best I return ye tae yer friend.”
Lauren glanced over her shoulder. “Yes, well…Reggie—may I call you Reggie?—how much do you know about cars?”
Reggie?He shifted a little, trying the name on for size. He was still getting used to being called Reginald again, instead of Number 30. But he supposed Reggie wouldnae hurt. He wouldnae see her again, so what she called him was of no consequence.
He scowled, puzzled by a sudden, empty feeling. Mayhap themortalresult of an encounter with a beautiful woman after so many years? ’Twas to be somewhat expected, was it no’? But, cars? He knew they went too fast and made far too much noise. Beyond that, he had naught to offer.
“No’ enough tae be of any use, I’m afraid.” He noted her disappointed look. She must put great store in a man who knew much of cars. Sadly, ’twas no’ him. Though right now, he wished he did. The thought of spending more time with the lass did have its merits. “Mayhap yer weightlifter will have such knowledge.”
She looked away, her distress playing painfully across her face.
Shamed by the result of his ungracious taunt, he took a step closer. “ ’Twould be my honor, Lauren, tae escort ye tae…uhh…if ye’re no longer searching for bars, where is it ye wish tae go?”
“That’s the problem,” she shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Chapter Three
“Ye dinnae ken where ye live?”
