I gesture toward him.
“And that’s Hamish. The two of them hate each other. Nobody knows why.”
The doctor looks at Hamish, then Ragnar, then me, but says nothing.
I sink back against the couch cushions, suddenly exhausted by this day that absolutely refuses to leave me alone.
“What a day,” I murmur.
He sits in the armchair across from me, and Ragnar settles at the feet of his favorite human like an especially devoted guard dog.
“You took the words right out of my mouth.”
“What brought you here?”
“A village meeting at dawn to discuss my ‘unsuitability for the Highlands.’”
I arch an eyebrow.
“Seriously?”
He nods gravely.
“Public vote included. Six votes against one. Mine.”
A small laugh escapes me despite myself.
“It’s the Highlands… Nothing ever changes around here.”
Outside, Hamish bleats.
Ragnar answers with a sound that resembles a sheep insult.
The doctor sighs.
“This is going to be a long cohabitation, isn’t it?”
I look at him.
This gruff man who pulled me out of a ditch, who seems just as trapped as I am, and who somehow managed to win the heart of a psychotic sheep.
“Very long,” I confirm.
Ragnar looks back and forth between us, visibly pleased with how events are unfolding.
Outside, I watch Hamish wander away through the park.
The strangest day of my life has just taken an even more absurd turn.
And I haven’t even unpacked my suitcases yet.
CHAPTER 9
FINN
The McGregor Tribunal
(Or How to Try Saving Your Own Skin)
