by Susan Conley
He turned back to talk to the music men. Beth let her beautifully intense breath out. Now what? He would come over and speak to her, wouldn’t he? The old Calum would. She should have worn her hair up. No, then she would look even more overdressed. Lip gloss. He liked the sheen, hadn’t he told her so? She reached for her purse and unzipped. How could that tube get lost in such a small purse?
“Where are you from then, lass?”
She abandoned her search as her heart took off like a racehorse. She would die right there if she started panting.
“Canada,” she said, hoping the darn racehorse would trip.
“Ah, that’s why you caught my eye. I’ve a great love of Canada. I spent three years there after graduating.”
“Well, now that you’ve piqued my curiosity, you must sit down and tell me about it.” If he was still telling her about it next week, all the better.
He frowned. “I’d love to, but I’ve got something I need do to finish up the day.”
“Not yet.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you to play like that and then abandon me with my heart all aflutter. Who knows what trouble I could get into in such a state?”
“Oh?” When he smiled, she was ice cream on hot pavement. “I’d not thought about that. I suppose it’s a matter of duty then.”
Oh dear God, he was exactly the same. “I’m glad to see you take your responsibilities seriously. Just one coffee, then I’ll release you back to your work.”
Calum pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. They introduced themselves then he asked, “What brings you to Edinburgh?”
How she would like to tell him the truth. You, Calum–Colin. I came to pick up where we left off. But she said something rational and mundane instead. “Perhaps the same thing that brought you to Canada. I just finished school and needed a holiday. Things had gotten a bit crazy.”
“Bad breakup?”
She laughed. “You could say that. And you? Did you escape a crazed woman by running to Canada?”
“No, that wouldn’t be fair to say. So where in Canada are you from?”
They talked through two coffees. She learned he’d grown up in Inverness, and then attended the University of Edinburgh earning a degree in environmental geoscience. His parents had divorced while he was in university, and his dad moved to Edinburgh utilizing his woodworking skills to grow a successful business that Calum was drawn to when he returned from Canada. He loved working with his hands.
She wasn’t surprised. The Calum she knew was good with those hands, whether it be wood, or music, or lovemaking. It was the strangest feeling talking with him like he was new and old at the same time. The look of him was the only constant. Being with him was like uncovering secrets. She knew things about him, he didn’t yet comprehend. He was a stranger in her lover’s body, but then he raised a brow, or smiled with his eyes, and she was instantly with ancient Calum. It was a trial in self–control not to pull him to her and kiss him senseless.
“Where are you staying?” He pushed his chair back.
She told him the name of the hotel and address, barely holding back her room number and giving him the key.
“Since you don’t know anyone else in Scotland, I could show you around a bit, if you’d like an escorted tour, that is.”
“Yes! Definitely. I’m ready to go when you are.” Forget your old life, Calum, I’m here now. She willed it across the space between their eyes.
He chuckled. “Hold on, like I said, I’ve some things to finish up this afternoon, but I could pick you up tomorrow morning.”
Tomorrow was so far away. She tried not to pout. “Okay, I suppose I can wait till then. I’ve had a great time talking with you, Calum.”
“Me too, Beth, and it’s Colin, by the way.”
Shoot. That was going to be a problem. He just didn’t feel like a Colin.
“Sorry. You look so much like a Calum I once knew.”
“No problem. Let me get this.” He stood, reached into his pocket, and tossed money onto the table.
Reluctantly Beth relinquished her chair. He picked up her coat and held it up for her to slide into. For a second, she was standing in his arms. Warmth rose like a wave, her warmth, deep inside at the thought of him touching her skin at the nape of her neck. She turned to face him. Their toes were nearly touching. She was going to do it. She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. It was a quick kiss, but firm, one he obviously hadn’t anticipated as his response was a little weak for her liking.
“Thanks for the coffee,” she said.
He held her eyes for a moment, his narrowed as if he was on the verge of solving a great puzzle, or maybe he was thinking better of spending the day with a woman who kisses every guy who buys her coffee.
“My pleasure,” he said finally. “Is nine a good time to pick you up? Or are you jet–lagged? Do you want to make it later?”
“No.” At the mention of jet lag, she became suddenly weary. She checked her watch — five o’clock. Noon Canadian time, and she hadn’t slept last night on the plane. “I’m going to go to bed early, so I’ll be up in the morning.”
He waited for her to walk out in front of him. Now she felt foolish for kissing him. The man was incredibly attractive and likely had to beat women back with a stick every time he played that flute.
“See ya, Colin, love,” the floosie said as they passed her table. Oh, great. Now he’d plunk her into the general mass of groupies fawning over him. So he’d noticed her enough to play her a song and have a chat over coffee. Their time together had been pleasant, but hadn’t exactly been fireworks. And she pitiably recalled, he’d not wanted to chat — she hadn’t given him much choice. He probably couldn’t wait to be free of her.
“Colin,” called the barkeep. He held a piece of paper up in his hand. “Tiffany wants you to pick up these groceries and get home with them if you’ve a care to be eating tonight.”
Oh no! Tiffany? Who the heck was that? His mother? Right, that’s it. Lots of auld Scottish mothers are named Tiffany.
Calum retrieved the list. Beth would have moved if she could, but was frozen to the floor, her eyes wide and staring at the barkeep.
Seemingly immune to her paralysis, Calum checked the list as he walked past her. When he held the door open, she shook the zombie feeling and stepped out ahead of him.
“I’m off this way.” He indicated the opposite direction she needed to take. “Do you know how to get back to your hotel?”
She tried to relax her face, just smile naturally, she told her mouth. “Yes. It’s not far.”
Just as Beth regrouped her emotions, panic hit her. Oh no! She checked his hands — no rings. Thank God for teeny–tiny mercies. He wasn’t married to Tiffany. She’d never been the kind of woman who went after guys with girlfriends, but this was different. After all, she had the green light from an all–powerful elf — what other boyfriend snatcher could say that. Sorry, Tiffany, Calum is mine!
“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” She’d not let him out of it, no matter what he thought of her. Her heart began to race again, like there was so much at stake and she wasn’t performing well.
“Nine o’clock.” He smiled tightly.
“See you then.”
He headed down the street away from her.
Beth watched his back. She wanted to run her fingernails up and down that back. And she would. She affirmed it again — Tiffany or no. Maybe she was his sister? Why would Calum offer to show a stranger the city if he was in a relationship? Either he’s incredibly thoughtful, or he’s a two–timer? No, it couldn’t be. Could it?
She needed to know what she was up against. Sleep was for later. Calum had gone down Grassmarket, so she headed in that direction, discretely following behind to learn what she could of this Tiffany.
Her warrior had slipped out of sight. Where had he gone? She picked up the pace. There! She spied the navy shirt under the sun–kissed head moving with the same confident, graceful gait as always. Her feet click–clacked along the sidewalk. She should have worn running shoes.
“Oh, pardon me,” she said to a woman whose arm she’d nearly knocked off when she deked suddenly to catch Calum entering a doorway. Beth stopped two store fronts away at a genealogy shop.
Trace your Scottish heritage here, it promised. She couldn’t go in or she might miss Calum. Was she far enough away to observe yet remain unobserved? What do people do to look inconspicuous? She turned to the street and studied her watch.
Ten minutes later Calum popped out of the shop with a bag. Tiffany’s groceries she assumed. Oh no! His head turned her way. She spun her back to him. Shoot — pink coat. She was too close. Had he seen her gawking? Please no.
Then again, what if he’d not seen her? She would lose him if she didn’t take a little peek.
With a discrete swivel, she faced the genealogy shop and spared a glance down the street.
She shrieked as her heart slammed into her rib cage.
Calum stood directly beside her. “You look lost.” His brows raised in what must have been sheer wonder.
All she could do was swallow — hard. “Uh, no, no I’m not lost. I … I thought I’d do a family tree while I’m here. Although, it is getting late. Perhaps I’ll leave it for another day after all.”
He looked amused. “Good plan. The shop’s closed.”
“Oh, so it is. Look at that.”
“Are you all right, Beth?”
“Yes.” Another swallow. “Yes. Fine. I’m fine. Just a little tired. I should head back to my hotel now. Nice to see you again. Looking forward to tomorrow.” She forced her mouth into a smile to prevent herself from rambling something even more ridiculous.
“Nine o’clock,” he reminded.
With no more than a nod, she turned in a full retreat. Her feet couldn’t carry her fast enough. Obviously Sherlock Holmes did not sleuth in hot pink.
Their reunion was not going as smoothly as she’d anticipated. He was supposed to look into her eyes and be instantly smitten. Instead, she’d made a fool of herself more than once and botched her stakeout, leaving Calum free to have dinner, and probably breakfast, at Tiffany’s.
After a deep breath, she exhaled slowly. Best not to forget she did have a date with him tomorrow. She could do this. Whoever Tiffany was, she was no match for a thousand–year connection.
She thought back to when she’d first met Calum. He’d not been deterred by the whirlwind of extraneous events competing for her attention. They’d never have come together if he’d not persisted, and persist he had.
Beth climbed the steps to the hotel. Sleep was necessary to clear her head, not whiskey, not coffee.
You ain’t seen nothing yet, Calum-Colin, she vowed. That kiss — child’s play. She could sizzle too and not just in the kitchen. The oven mitts were coming off. Tiffany would soon be yesterday’s dinner.
Chapter 33
Something About That Canadian Lass
The next morning Colin Cunningham stepped out of the shower, dried off, and wrapped a towel around his waist. In the kitchen while coffee dripped, he popped bread into the toaster and checked the sky out the back window — bright, no clouds. Excellent. A fine day for sightseeing. He was eager to see Beth Stewart again. Eager and intrigued.
Yesterday when he’d caught her spying on him, and there was no doubt the lass had followed him, he’d had to grit his teeth not to laugh at the startled look on her face as she’d fumbled for an excuse. He was definitely intrigued by the Canadian lass.
When he’d come down from Tiffany’s last night, there had been a message on his phone from his brother. Had the foreign lass in the pink coat found Colin at the tavern, and how had she come to know him? Good question. Yesterday, Beth had sought him out at his workplace, but at the pub, she’d not let on she knew his name. Knew his name? Hardly. She’d called him Calum.
That mystery wasn’t all that intrigued him, the lass was bonny to be sure. Her smile lit her eyes like the sun rising over the firth, though he’d no idea their colour or shape. It wasn’t their physical beauty that had grabbed him, but something else, something personal, something familiar, something intimate in her eyes. Yes, he was looking forward to the day.
Colin ate his toast as he pulled on a pair of jeans and a long–sleeved T-shirt. An envelope sat on the desk in the vestibule. Tiffany and Edgar’s rent money. His tenants had likely knocked on his door when he was in the shower. Small mercies. He didn’t feel like explaining his behaviour at dinner last night.
Their symbiotic relationship worked well — Colin shopped, Tiffany cooked, Edgar cleaned up. Last night, Edgar had invited his coworker Rebecca to dinner. A sleek, dark–haired woman with model looks. Rebecca was overly congenial. She agreed with his every word and laughed a little too long. He’d been close to demanding a contrary thought from her.
After dinner, the four of them sat at the table talking about past relationships. Edgar had praised Tiffany for saving him from a disastrous situation where he’d become slave to his old girlfriend’s pendulum moods. Edgar referred to the folk story of Tam Lin thanking Tiffany for her valiant rescue.
That’s when it happened. Colin had a strong recollection of telling Beth Stewart that very story in the back of a horse–drawn carriage. He’d felt a lustful surge at the thought of her tucked so close to him and an urgency that she must kiss him. He couldn’t imagine where the thought came from. The look on his face must have been comical as he sorted out the bizarre confusion. How could he have a memory of a woman he’d just met? When would he have ridden in a carriage with Beth Stewart? Never. He was sure of it, as sure as he’d been of the memory. A strong déjà vu settled over his bones.
Edgar had winked at Colin, exaggerated a yawn and announced he’d had a hard day. Ah, the signal. Colin was supposed to take Rebecca downstairs to his flat. But it was all wrong. He didn’t feel comfortable when her hand had slipped over his. He’d pulled away, apologized, and left, feeling three pairs of eyes burning holes in his back. No wonder he’d had a lousy sleep.
The Canadian lass had him piqued and distracted.
Colin brought the envelope inside his flat and tossed it on his kitchen table, his mind on Beth Stewart. It had been a while since he played tour guide.
Though he couldn’t define it, he hadn’t immediately dismissed the exceptionally clear memory of Beth in the carriage as a fault of his imagination. He was anxious to find out more about the Canadian lass who had sequestered his memories. Swiping the keys off the top of the television, he locked up and headed over to Beth’s hotel.
• • •
For the life of her, Beth couldn’t remember the name of the town where she and Calum had pledged their eternal love. Last month, when he’d told her the story, it wasn’t minor details like setting she’d noticed, it was the emotion behind his eyes as he recounted his love for her. All she remembered was that it happened during the reign of King David. Little help that was.
The appropriate environment could stimulate his deep–rooted feelings for her — sights, smells, sounds of where they’d fell so profoundly in love. King David had tried to push the Scottish border into England. She remembered that much, so she planned a picnic south of Edinburgh. It was as good a start as any for a passion–rekindling reminiscence.
And reminisce she would. She couldn’t begin to understand the workings of it, but somewhere Calum–Colin carried a memory or a feeling of being with her. Had she not felt something for the warrior from their first meeting? Definitely. Though she’d been slow to admit it, Calum had her attention from the very start. Tiffany was much the same as Matthew had been — a bump she must push Calum over and leave behind. Sorry, Tif
fany, but she was talking a thousand year romance, so technically he was hers first.
By eight-forty-five, Beth had rented a car, shopped for a picnic lunch, and returned to the hotel.
Not only did Calum look sexy as hell as he approached, he was on time. He didn’t appear to notice the two women check him out as he walked toward Beth. The urge to kiss him curled her toes. So unlike her, but she loved the feeling. By the end of the day, she silently pledged their relationship would be in warp speed and there would definitely be kissing.
“I thought we might go to the castle first before it gets busy,” he said, after greetings. “You’d not want to miss the chapel of St. Margaret, if it’s a history lesson you’re after. From there we can walk the Royal Mile to the city chambers and go underneath to Mary Kings Close, a sixteenth–century town, home to the first skyscrapers. If we’re in luck we’ll see the ghost. We can stop to have a wee lunch somewhere along the way. Does that sound good or was there something else you wished to see?”
“Actually, there is. I hope you don’t mind, Cal … Colin,” ugh, she hated calling him Colin, “but I rented a car. I’d love to get out of the city and see a bit of the countryside.”
“You’ve come all the way to Edinburgh and you’re not wanting to see it?”
“I do, but not today. It’s a beautiful morning, and I was up early so I packed us a picnic lunch. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
One of Calum’s eyebrows rose. He brushed his fingers through his hair — a familiar gesture that touched her heart.
“You didn’t need to rent a car, you know. I could have driven.”
“It’s done now, but you can still drive.”
“Right then. A picnic. Not what I expected but very good. Better. I’d rather spend the day in the country and since you, Beth Stewart, wore sensible shoes, I suppose we’d best be off.”
He had noticed her strappy black sandals yesterday. Once again, she’d dressed in clothes she hoped he might recognize, the ones she’d worn when they’d hiked in Finn’s world — running shoes, jeans and a pink T-shirt under a navy zip–up sweater.
