“Not sure. Something large moving out in the center,” she said, stumbling over her words.
“It was snowing pretty heavy. How could you have even seen the center of the loch?” he said in a snarky tone as he looked toward the water.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you think it was? The Loch Ness Monster or maybe a Laidly Worm?” He laughed at her. Her cheeks reddened. She was not going to let him get under her skin, and she knew she had seen something in the loch that night even if he thought she was crazy.
“What is a Laidly Worm?” Nora asked, looking away from the loch and back at him.
“A water spirit, like a giant water dragon. Just a bunch of nonsense made up by parents long ago to keep their kids away from the lochs. That folklore book you took up to bed last night has a chapter on them.”
“I guess I didn’t get that far yet.”
Nora thought about the folklore volume resting on her nightstand and then about the little red book. She yearned to get away from Alistair and back to reading. She wanted to know what happened next, but she felt rude just taking off up to her bedroom when Alistair had cooked her breakfast. If they were going to be stuck together for another day, they were going to need to try to get along.
“Well, I guess I should probably get some writing done. Do you mind if I stay another night? I promise to stay out of your way,” he said, turning around and facing her.
God, every time he looked her directly in the eyes, her heart went racing up into her throat. Why was it that her body and her mind couldn’t be on the same page about this guy? She had to remind herself that nothing good ever came of a chance meeting like this. Sam was the prime example, and she wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.
“Of course. I can’t send you off packing in this snow, can I?”
“Well, you could, but I might freeze and die. Then who would load the fire for you in the middle of the night?” he joked, as the softer side of him showed through his callous exterior once again.
“You’re right, I hadn’t thought of that,” Nora joked back as the tone in the conversation lightened a bit.
As Nora walked back into the kitchen to pour herself another cup of coffee, the lights began to flicker. They dulled, then came back to life a few times before they went out completely.
“No, no, no,” Alistair said, walking back into the kitchen and flipping open his laptop. “Shit,” he said, looking at the black screen. “Wonderful. My dumb arse should have plugged it in last night. Now I don’t have enough battery to even turn it on.”
Nora pulled her phone out of the pocket of her plaid PJs and looked at it. Crap, she hadn’t charged her phone last night, either, and it was also just about dead, sitting at two percent. She slid it back into her pocket and looked back to Alistair.
He stood for a long minute looking down at his computer and then out toward the loch. “Maybe we should take a look around outside and see if we can spot the downed power line. If we find it and call the power company, they might be able to get the power on faster,” he suggested.
“That’s not a bad idea. Let me get changed,” she said.
She headed upstairs, pulled on a pair of jeans and an old UVM sweatshirt, then rooted around in her bag for her mittens and winterhat. Unzipping a pocket, she pulled out the scarf her grandmother had bought for her twentieth birthday and wrapped it around her neck, using the brooch to secure it.
As she descended the stairs, Alistair was at the door, pulling on his boots.
“Are you sure you are going to be warm enough?” Nora asked, watching him zip up a jacket that looked more about style than warmth.
“It’s what I got,” he told her, zipping it all the way to the top.
“I think there is a jacket in the closet by the bathroom,” she told him, walking over and opening the closet door. Inside hung a large army-green parka. She grabbed it and walked it back over to him. “I think you better wear this. I don’t want to have to carry you back after you freeze to death.”
He didn’t say anything but took the jacket and put it over the one he had on.
“That scarf. Is it your family tartan?” he asked.
“Yes, a gift from my grandmother. My grandfather was from here; he was a Cameron.”
“That’s not a Cameron clan tartan, you know?”
“Yes, it is. My grandmother specifically told me this was my grandfather’s tartan when she gave it to me,” Nora argued back, feeling a bit annoyed at all the questions about her scarf as she started sweltering in all her layers.
“Well, that’s not the Cameron clan tartan. It’s the MacDonalds.”
“What? No. You must be mistaken.”
