Tristan

by L. L. Muir

  He gestured toward the path that led around the end of the wall and down to the beach, then he fell in step beside her. “Our introduction went afoul, so allow me to introduce myself. Tristan Bain, at yer service. And yer name is Audrey Hayes?”

  “Audie. No ‘r’. I was named after a great uncle, if you can believe it.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve noticed that names, nowadays, have little to do with gender.”

  “True. I guess I fit right in.” She stepped on a larger rock that was slicker than it looked. Her arms shot out to catch her balance and she squeaked. He grabbed her upper arm and held tight.

  Her gasp had more to do with his touch than with her fright. “Thank you.”

  “Ye’re welcome. But just in case…” He slid his hand down to hers, then grasped her fingers before they began walking again. Maybe she would have thought to pull away if she wasn’t still concentrating on the burning trail his hand had left behind.

  When she finally glanced up, he was frowning at her.

  “Do ye mind so much?” He lifted their entwined hands, to show what he was talking about, but he didn’t let go.

  She shook her head. “Not really. I’m just… I’m not a very physical kind of person. Normally.”

  He smiled. “And just what kind of person are ye, normally?”

  “I teach math.” And never in her life had she wanted so badly for that sentence to sound more interesting.

  “A teacher! A noble calling if ever there was one.”

  “It sounds better all ready. But no, it wasn’t a calling. More like a family business. My parents taught math. Both of them. I’m sure it was passed on to me genetically.”

  “Do ye enjoy teaching?”

  “Oh, I love it!” Embarrassed by the sudden volume, she lowered her voice. “Math is sometimes the only exposure to science some kids ever get. So, it’s vital that they are given those tools.”

  “Ye’re passionate about it, I see.”

  The word made her blush, but she sucked it up. “Yes.”

  He scanned the ground as they walked, like he took pleasure from it. Every once in a while, he’d turn a rock over with his toe, look at it, and move on. And she wondered if he was listening.

  “Sounds like teaching mathematics is yer vocation after all,” he said. “A calling from God.”

  And just like that, it was over.

  She took a deep breath. “Um. I’m an Agnostic.”

  He nodded at the ground. “Ah. I see. Then ye believe the existence of God cannot be proven one way or the other.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “Exactly. Most people don’t understand the difference between Agnosticism and Atheism.”

  “I assume, then, that ye cannot believe in anything that cannot be proven? That is… Nessie, for instance?”

  She laughed. “You have no idea how many times I’ve tried to explain it all to Natalie.”

  “So, ye wouldn’t be the type of woman who believed in ghosts?”

  “I don’t know.”

  His head whipped up, his eyes glittered with interest, but he kept walking.

  “I mean, there was a second or two when I didn’t know what to believe, when I saw you standing in the mist last night. You have to admit, that was pretty surreal.”

  He rubbed a finger across his lips. “Aye. Surreal.”

  The moment grew awkward. She stopped and faced the water as an excuse to let go of his hand. As pleasant as the morning was—as surreal as it was—he was obviously with the wrong girl.

  “I’m afraid you’ve got a lot more in common with Natalie than with me.” She shielded her eyes with her hand and focused on the far shore. “Witches and all that.”

  He was quiet for a long time, but she couldn’t get up the nerve to look at him. This was no time to be vulnerable, or her emotions would take over.

  When he spoke, his voice was low, quiet, and she realized she wasn’t the only one feeling vulnerable. “Is this goodbye, then? Ye’d like me to go on my way?”

  She dropped her hand, but couldn’t quite face him. “No. I don’t want you to go away. But I will understand if—”

  “Let us make a pact, then. For the next day or so, until I must I take my leave, I promise not to judge ye harshly for yer beliefs if ye promise not to judge me for mine. What say ye?”

  What could she say? Usually, if a guy could choose between Natalie and her, they’d pick Natalie in a heartbeat. She was so much more…everything. More interesting, and so much prettier. About the only thing Audie had that Natalie didn’t, was peace. Even when they were kids, Natalie was always waiting for something to happen, looking forward to some big change, or the chance to move to a new place. From the outside, that made her interesting.

  But maybe Tristan Bain was looking for something else.

  “Audie?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Ye’ve been staring at my lips for a while now. Perhaps ye’d care to mark the difference between a surreal kiss and a real one?”

  “I—”

  As his head slowly lowered and his mouth pressed against her own, she realized he must have mistaken the American word for the Scottish one.

  Aye.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Patient. Kind. Gentle. Attentive. All those terms were excellent advice for kissing a lass. Once Tristan had initiated the embrace, he reminded himself not to rush things.

  Patient. Check.

  He gave her ample room to breathe while he advanced his assault on her senses.

  Kind. Check.

  Since a rough kiss couldn’t go on forever, he held himself in check, pressing only enough to maintain the slow dance.

  Gentle. Check.

  And never in the history of kissing had a man been so aware of the lass beneath his hands. Though he touched only the vaguest details of her hips, he felt each breath as it brought her closer to him, then drew her away.

  Attentive? Please.

  But his newly restored and acute senses caught a sound that made him moan with dread—the sound of small feet galloping toward him on wet stones.

  I thought I was rid of that dog!

  Audie ended the kiss abruptly, and he could tell she’d all but forgotten he was there when she stooped to pet the pup. “He’s still here!” She poured all her attention upon the creature, then narrowed her eyes at him. “Admit it. He’s your dog.”

  He sighed. “It is neither my dog, nor is it a male.”

  “Oh!” She blushed, which only made him want to kiss her again. But thanks to the unwelcomed beast, the opportunity passed.

  “How would ye like to picnic with me up to the falls? It is not so far, and a lovely place for…exploring.” And far from miscreants on four legs who try to make him out to be a liar.

  “Can we take the dog along?”

  He had to think quickly. “Auch, nay. Mr. Hardie has put up notices. We wouldn’t want the owner to come along and not find his wee beastie, aye?”

  She obviously still thought the dog was his, but couldn’t argue with his reasoning. And after exacting a promise from him not to go anywhere, she headed back to the house to arrange for a basket of food, leaving him and the pup alone on the beach.

  “I dinna ken what ye want with me, dog.”

  The beast watched the lass go, gave Tristan only cursory consideration, then searched the shore for something more interesting than him. After sniffing too close to the water and sneezing, it turned and made its way back again. It stopped suddenly, snuffled quite excitedly in a small radius, then began digging as if a life depended upon it.

  Tristan’s heart shuddered in his chest, stirred by an ancient memory. And while he looked on, the white and tan spaniel digging on the beach became his own red dog digging up the very hole in which Tristan had buried his treasured gems! The large flat rock he’d used as a capstone had been dragged aside, but he would recognize it anywhere.

  “Cowlie, leave it be!” He heard the familiar words come from his mouth. They even tasted the
same as they had so long ago. Impatience came with them as a matter of course. Cowlie, leave it be! How many hundreds of times had he shouted the same?

  The dog glanced up, emitted a high-pitched, emotional bark, and leapt over the wide hole to attack Tristan. The same combination of barking and crying nearly deafened him while the animal tried to clamor high enough to lick his face. The sharp claws bit into his arms and proved it was no dream. He was truly standing near his home, and if Cowlie was still alive, then he’d been whisked back through time as well!

  And if he’d been sent back far enough…

  “Easy, old fellow. Easy, my friend.” It took a while, but he finally got the animal to settle despite his joy at seeing his master again. He made Cowlie sit and stay a few yards back from the hole so he might investigate. He bent, rested his hands on his knees, and soon discovered that the pit was not nearly deep enough to reveal the box.

  He dropped to one knee and reached down for a handful of earth, but paused. How ungrateful of him to think about the box when he’d been given such a chance to go home again? What of his mum? His da?

  He turned to look down the hill, searching for the house he knew to be there, but before he could identify anything in the distance, his vision swam and it threw him off balance. He groped for the ground as it came slamming up to meet him, but instead of dirt, he spit grass from his mouth. And not the grass of home…

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Slowly, the vertigo ebbed away and Tristan was able to sit up. He braced his arms behind him and looked about. Cowlie was gone. The hillside was gone, as was his chance to look for his parents. This new ground was relatively flat and even more familiar than his beloved hillside. And thanks to gray pallor to the scene before him, to which he was well accustomed, he couldn’t say it was daytime, but neither was it night.

  I am returned to Culloden.

  His sharp mortal vision now seemed dull. Were all his senses dulling as well?

  Had he failed then? Had he turned his attention to the wrong woman? Perhaps there had been another on the beach the previous night. Had something horrible happened while he was skipping stones and disturbing Nessie?

  The young witch would ken. “Soncerae!”

  In the distance, he saw the bugler rise. When the man put his horn to his lips, however, Tristan heard nothing. All around him, he knew Culloden’s 79 would awake, gather together, and count off. He waited for his body to respond, to take his position and call out his number, ten, but he couldn’t get his feet beneath him. He tried to focus on his usual position in the gathering. Monroe would come to stand on his right. Barclay on his left. Tristan’s thoughts should have taken him to stand between them, but still, he remained.

  In his hands, wet mud dripped from between his fingers onto his kilt and the rain-wet turf. A small pile of stones sat beside his right hip. Nothing remarkable about them, and yet, he’d spent all that time…

  Digging. Searching.

  For hundreds of years, his memory had failed him. He hadn’t known why he’d been driven to do what he did, but he could never stop. While the others sought their rest, he searched. While the others dreamed their dreams and formed their revenge, while they studied on their sins, Tristan Bain had gone on combing through whatever rocks the earth offered up.

  And now he remembered why. He’d been hunting his own precious stones all over again, driven to find that box…

  His chest burned and he closed his eyes against the searing pain of memory. He’d been betrayed, and though it had happened long ago, the wound was fresh.

  The piercing bark of a dog and the crash of waves pushed the memory away. He smelled the dark waters of Loch Ness even before he opened his eyes.

  Praise be, he was still alive! And a lovely mortal lass walked toward him with a shy smile on her face.

  ~ ~ ~

  Though he’d distinctly heard the pup’s bark, it was gone from the beach, offering him no chance to thank the beast for bringing back his memory. Of course, the quick trips he’d just taken had to be Soni’s work.

  As Audie came to him on the beach, Tristan’s attention was drawn to her lips. Her teeth worried at the lower one and her brow furrowed, her shyness forgotten.

  “You okay? We don’t have to go on a picnic if you’ve changed your mind, you know.”

  He filled his lungs and pulled the corners of his mouth up in a smile, hoping both actions would chase away whatever expression his strange experience might have left on his face. Whatever it was, the lass had noticed.

  “On the contrary, Miss Audie. I cannot imagine a finer way to pass the afternoon. A brisk walk, a basket of food, and ye beside me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “First of all, you don’t know me—yet. And second, I’m not briskly walking anywhere I don’t have to. Including crumbling staircases, I’ve already hiked about a hundred miles across Scotland, and I need a break.”

  He pointed north. “Invermoriston is not half an hour’s walk—”

  “Are there roads there?”

  “Aye. At least, there were the last time I passed through—”

  “Perfect. We’ll take the car. Don’t want to waste the rental, right?”

  He nodded and followed her up the stairs that led to the hill above the house. A vigorous hike, with his blood pumping through his body was not nearly as important to him as a private moment with the lass, holed up inside a small wheeled box where he could look her over at his leisure.

  Of course, she would expect him to have ridden inside an auto before…

  Mrs. Hardie came rushing out the door with two orange cans in her hand and the friend, Natalie, trailing behind. “A couple of Irn-Brus in case we didn’t pack enough to drink, aye?”

  Audie took the drinks. “You sure you don’t want to come, Nat?”

  “Not a chance. I have a headache, remember? And a date with a monster.” Natalie gave him a wink, pulled a shawl up around her shoulders, and shooed the pair of them toward the wee black auto in which Audie had placed the plastic cooler holding their feast.

  Audie turned to him with a flushed face. “You wanna drive?”

  “Auch, nay. But thank ye just the same. Rather than watch the road, I’d prefer to watch…the scenery.” He lifted his brows and winked, to be sure she knew what he meant by scenery. Her renewed blush proved she’d understood.

  Drive? Certainly not. He wouldn’t know the first thing about making one move properly.

  She pushed the orange cans into his hands, quick-stepped to the car, and climbed inside. After the door closed, he wished he had paid closer attention to how she’d managed it. He did his best to act casual about it, but he felt quite awkward as he opened the other door with all three women looking on.

  Audie took the cans from him, tucked them away, and waited.

  After the first try, putting one leg in first, he had to climb back out again and start over lest he show them all what a Scotsman doesn’t wear beneath his plaid. The women fell silent. Mrs. Hardie turned her back to him and it took no imagination at all to know that she was laughing herself silly, what with her shoulders bouncing as they did.

  He tried a more aggressive tact and went in head first, but his upper body ended up on Audie’s side of the car with no hope of him pulling the door closed after him. And while she and her friend pretended not to watch, he retreated once more.

  He leaned down and poked his head in the car. “One last try,” he promised in a quiet voice. “And if I can’t manage to fit, I shall walk to the falls and ye can drive along beside me if ye wish.”

  All three of them laughed outright, damn them.

  He turned his back to the car, bent, and shoved his backside onto the seat, careful to tuck his kilt beneath his bum as he did so. No sense exciting the lass unnecessarily.

  Next, he pulled his right knee up to his chest, turned slightly, and inserted his foot. Half in, half out. But he was encouraged by the fact that his body was still confined to his side of the vehicle. He repeated the movement wi
th his left leg, scooted ‘round to face the front window, then contorted a bit to fit his head inside. When he sat somewhat straight in his seat, he pressed his ear against the roof to better reach the car door, then pulled it closed with a healthy tug.

  She let out a breath and smiled up at him. “You fit.”

  “Aye.” Though his knees were dangerously close to the window. If she stopped abruptly, they might break the glass.

  “Now I know why you wanted to walk.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A Highlander like Tristan Bain really filled up a car. He was all knees and plaid, and the latter wasn’t doing a very good job of covering up the former. A compact in Europe was not the same as a compact in the states, and after Tristan got settled, Audie wondered if Europeans weren’t aware of how large a Scotsman could be.

  They had only pulled onto the driveway when he made a funny noise. His eyes widened with panic, so she stopped the car. He shoved his head and shoulder up against the ceiling again, and reached under his butt. When he relaxed back into the seat, he held up her very spikey roller brush.

  “I was wondering where that was.” She took it from him, tossed it over her shoulder, and started going again.

  It took all her concentration to stay on the left side of the road, so she had to ignore her heavy-breathing passenger. She realized cars made him nervous, but it was too late to do anything about that. He tried to give her directions until he realized that the GPS was already doing it. After being interrupted the third time by the obnoxious machine, he clamped his lips shut and started playing with buttons. It was like watching a little kid who had never been in the front seat before.

  “‘Tis rather intimate, is it not?”

  “Excuse me?” She hoped her face wasn’t as red as it felt. What she wouldn’t give for Natalie’s olive skin for a day.

  “This traveling together in a small space. ‘Tis rather intimate. No wonder so many climb inside an auto to do their snogging?”