“Still my least dignified audience,” she muttered.
Flynn grinned, swinging his satchel over his shoulder. “Och dinnae fash, they probably dinnae even recognize ye fully clothed.”
Heather gasped, swatting at him, her cheeks heating. “Flynn!”
He only laughed, ducking just out of reach as he headed to load the truck with his supplies. “What? Just tellin’ the truth, lass.”
Despite herself, Heather laughed too, shaking her head as she followed.
Flynn paused at the open tailgate, fingers closing around a small black puck stuck beneath the frame.
“That’s not where you’re supposed to be,” he muttered under his breath.
Heather glanced over. “Whats that?”
He flicked it free. “GPS. I use them on the lad’s trucks when they’re up in the Highlands. Keeps everyone from vanishing off a hill if something goes wrong.”
He opened the glove box to stow it, then hesitated.
Another one sat inside already.
Flynn frowned, then shut the compartment. “Huh.”
For a moment, something tugged at him—but the thought slipped away as quickly as it came.
Heather tilted her head. “That a problem?”
“Probably not,” he said. “Service depot must’ve thought we lost it and stuck on another.”
Flynn fired up the truck, the engine rumbling as he steered them back onto the narrow lane. The cottage slipped out of sight, and a spark of anticipation flared low in Heather’s chest.
“Next stop, Culloden?” she asked, her grin tugging wider than she meant it to.
Flynn shot her a sidelong look, the corner of his mouth curving. “Och, someone’s eager. Thought you’d be draggin’ your heels about walkin’ onto a battlefield.”
“I’m not dragging my heels,” Heather said quickly, then huffed a small laugh. “Okay, maybe a little. But mostly, I just want to see it. To stand where it all happened. It feels… important.”
Flynn squeezed the wheel, his grin turning roguish. He dropped his voice into a thick, exaggerated brogue, the kind made for fireside tales.
“Important, aye. But maybe excitin’ too, eh? A chance to chase whispers no one else has dared to catch. Gold and ghosts, Campbell!”
Heather burst out laughing. “You sound like an extra from Braveheart.”
He winked, still in character. “Och, and what if I am? Ye’d still follow me intae the mist.”
Her cheeks warmed, but she leaned closer, grinning. “Unfortunately for me… you’re right.”
Flynn chuckled, letting his voice soften. “Aye, I usually am.”
That was the thing. The history, the mystery, the way the threads kept tightening around her—it didn’t feel like dread humming under her skin.
It felt like a spark catching.
She turned toward him, eyes bright. “Then let’s chase them.”
Flynn laughed low, pressing the accelerator until the truck picked up speed, mist peeling back from the road ahead. “Aye, Campbell. Let’s.”
Chapter 6
