by Bess McBride
“DC?” he asked. “Do ye mean the capital of America?”
“Yes. It’s a long flight, lots of connections. It’s going to be a whole lot longer if she’s still angry with me.”
“Nay, I canna turn my back on ye, lass. I have little enough time as it is. What is the nature of this conflict with yer sister? I have two sisters of my own, ye ken. I was often called upon to sort them out when they argued. I am verra skilled in this area.”
Something about Fergus’s naïve simplicity warmed Casey’s terrified heart. It was a rare man who wanted to intercede between bickering women.
“I don’t know,” she said with a helpless shrug. She noted that he had not released her hand, and she didn’t want him to let go. “Sarah has been angry for a while, months. She accompanied me to my first surgery, but she was impatient, like she couldn’t stand to be there. I had told her that she didn’t have to go with me. I could have taken a taxi or something.
“While I lay on the stretcher, waiting to go into surgery, I asked her if anything was wrong, and she said, ‘This isn’t the time to talk about it.’ Frankly, I haven’t pushed her to find out what was wrong since then. If anything, she’s even more angry and withdrawn than she was then. She’s like a stranger to me.”
Fergus reached up to touch the corner of her eye with a gentle finger, wiping away a wayward tear. Casey’s heart skipped a beat at the sweet gesture.
“Am I crying again?” she said, her cheeks heating up. She shook her head and looked down. “I just can’t seem to stop. I’m sorry. It’s embarrassing.”
“Ye are frightened and alone, lass. I ken fear and loneliness too.”
Casey’s heart stopped for a moment. She stared into the depths of his eyes, drawing strength from the stranger. Was it possible to meet one’s soul mate in the space of a moment? On a moor in Scotland? When one was at her lowest?
Nearby voices broke the intimate moment, and Casey let out her pent-up breath. She dropped her eyes and looked toward the tour group now exiting the visitors’ center.
“Come, lass, let us see what is to do. I willna leave you, no yet.” Fergus pulled at her hand again.
Casey would follow him anywhere.
As it happened though, he only pulled open the door and took her inside the visitors’ center. Thronging with tourists, the crowds milled about, coming and going through the entrance, moving into the café, heading for the museum, or stopping to shop in the bookstore.
“I don’t know how we’re going to find her in here,” Casey murmured. Which was just as well. She couldn’t imagine bringing her Scot in shining armor to the next battle with Sarah. Fergus kept hold of her hand, and Casey didn’t argue...at all.
“I dinna think I will recognize yer sister. I saw only her backside as she stalked off across the moor.”
Casey couldn’t help but smile at Fergus’s burr, despite her growing anxiety about facing her sister after screeching her childish comments, equating to nothing more than “you’ll be sorry that you weren’t nice to me.” In fact, she was pretty sure she’d actually said those words.
“I don’t see her,” Casey said, actually relieved. She had the car keys, so unless her sister had found a taxi to take her back to Inverness, Sarah was still in the center.
“Is that yer sister there?” Fergus asked, nodding in the direction of the café.
“Yes,” Casey sighed, following his eyes. Her sister sat alone at a table in the café, sipping on a bowl of soup.
“We should join her,” Fergus said with a tug.
Casey dug in her heels, not an easy task on a tile floor.
“Who are you?” she asked, stalling. “Why on earth would you drag a strange woman off the moor in search of a sister in the middle of a catfight? What kind of man does that?”
Fergus turned to face her, placing his hands on her shoulders.
“A catfight, ye say? I think it is a great deal more than that, mayhap for both of ye, but as I said before, I must do a brave deed.” He grinned quickly, though it seemed as if with effort. “I dinna ken if bringing two sisters together is particularly brave, but it has merit, and it can be dangerous, nay?” His smile broadened, and he brought one hand to his right cheek to rub it.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why do you have to do a brave deed? Is this like a ‘do something good for someone every day’ kind of thing?”
He shook his head, then quirked an eyebrow. “Nay. Is there such a thing?”
“Some people think so.” Casey looked beyond him to see Sarah wiping her lips with a napkin, as if she had finished. Maybe her sister would leave while Fergus’s back was turned, and Casey could pretend she didn’t know where Sarah had gone.
Fergus caught her eye and turned.
“Noooo, come along,” he said as if towing a child.
Casey moved with him, keeping an eye on her sister. Brunette, like Casey, Sarah was much taller, though younger. Her face was angular, her body athletic, unlike Casey’s more fluffy form. It had been suggested somewhere, sometime, that Casey’s cancer could have been prevented by weight loss.
“Well, if you exercised more, took better care of yourself...” She remembered Sarah had said. As it happened, Casey’s cancer was completely random with no known cause, according to doctors, but Sarah had not retracted her words.
Fergus stopped at the table, and Sarah lifted her head, surprise widening her prominent brown eyes. She lifted a dark eyebrow.
“Oh, there you are,” she said. “I was wondering when you were coming in. Are you going to get something to eat?”
Sarah’s eyes dropped to their clasped hands. “Who is he?”
“Fergus Ferguson at yer service, Mistress Cole. I am pleased to meet ye.”
“Fergus Ferguson,” Sarah repeated, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms. She raised a hand to her mouth as if to stifle a smirk. “Well, that’s catchy.”
“My parents thought so.”
“What’s going on there?” she asked, nodding to their joined hands.
Casey, self-conscious, tried to tug away, but Fergus wouldn’t release her. She felt both trapped and exhilarated. Short of struggling, she really couldn’t get her hand back.
“I am pleased to join ye for some soup,” Fergus said. “Is it tasty?”
“It’s not bad, but it’s not my thing. I’m full now anyway,” Sarah said, brows drawn together. “You can have the rest of mine, Casey.”
“No, I’m not really hungry,” Casey said.
“Ye must eat—”
“You should eat—”
Fergus and Sarah spoke at the same time.
“Fine!” Casey said. “I’ll go get a sandwich. Do you want anything else, Sarah?”
“No, I just said I was full. Didn’t you hear me?”
Casey’s jaw tightened and her heart dropped. Even though she had described Sarah’s spitefulness, she had hoped Fergus wouldn’t see it. She really didn’t want anyone to think ill of her sister.
“Just a moment there, young lady. There is no call to be so rude to yer sister.”
Casey’s heart thudded against her chest.
“Come on. Let’s go get something to eat, Fergus!” she said brightly, pulling at his hand.
He resisted, pausing to stare down at her seated sister from his considerable height.
They eyed each other for an intense moment before Sarah looked away. Fergus allowed Casey to pull him away, and they walked toward the counter. She could have started crying again at her humiliation, but she fought back the tears.
“Do you want something to eat?” she asked politely.
“I fear I have no money to pay for food,” Fergus said. “I thought perhaps I might finish off yer sister’s soup since she disna want it.”
Casey turned to look at the Scot with the wild curly red hair. She could almost imagine that she’d actually hauled him out of a grave on the battlefield.
“You’re going to ask my sister if you can have her soup,�
� she murmured. “Are you that broke? Are you homeless?” Casey studied Fergus under veiled lashes. Eccentric he may have been, but his clothes were clean if a little costumey, as if he was about to reenact the Battle of Culloden.
“Nay, I am no homeless. Not at all. I live hereabouts now, but I am at this moment wi’oot my sporran, ye ken.” He gestured toward the front of his kilt.
“I’ll buy lunch,” Casey said with a returning smile. Oh, how Fergus made her smile! He was so very charming. “What do you want?”
“Oooh, aye! Weel, I would be pleased to try some o’ that hearty-looking soup and a bit o’ bread. And some of those nips and tatties as well. It is fair hungry I am. I have been coveting this food for some time.”
Casey laughed at Fergus’s boyish excitement as he pointed out everything he wanted to the attendant behind the counter.
“Wow! That’s quite an appetite you got there.” She suspected that he might actually have fallen on hard times, and she wondered if he haunted the visitors’ center looking for handouts or free meals from tourists. Maybe she’d been conned in some original way. She wasn’t sure she cared. Life was too short, and Fergus was a delight. She fervently wished they weren’t leaving that evening.
He grinned at her mischievously and patted his stomach.
“I am still a growing lad, and my belly has had a hole in it for far too long.”
Casey, not really understanding the gist of his humor sometimes, nevertheless matched his grin as she picked out a readymade sandwich and paid for the food. Fergus carried the tray back to the dining area, where Casey was surprised to find her sister still seated, albeit with crossed arms and a stormy expression.
They seated themselves, but Casey’s stomach rolled as she glanced at Sarah’s angrily averted face. Fergus dug into his food with enthusiasm, while Casey toyed with her sandwich by pulling the crust off the bread.
She looked everywhere but at her sister, whose foot tapped furiously on the floor. Fergus attacked his food as if he hadn’t eaten in years, and she watched him with fascination. He ate steadily for a few minutes before looking up and setting his spoon down, as if to pause. When he raised the back of his hand toward his beard as if to wipe his mouth, Casey thrust a napkin in his direction. He nodded gratefully and attended to his grooming.
“I offer my apologies for my boorish behavior in ignoring ye while I ate. It was fair hungry that I was. Thank ye for the napkin, lass.”
“You know, my sister is sick,” Sarah said, her voice belligerent. She kept her face averted, though her eyes slid in Fergus’s direction for a brief instant. “I doubt if she’s thinking straight, and she’s pretty gullible at the best of times. I hope you enjoyed your free food.”
“Sarah!” Casey gasped at Sarah’s stark comments, but she wasn’t all that surprised.
“Are ye suggesting that I am taking advantage of yer sister?”
“Yes, I am,” Sarah said, turning to face him. “Cute outfit though. Way to work the tourists.”
“Sarah! Stop it! Fergus is my guest. He’s honestly been nicer to me in the last half hour than you have in the last few months!”
Sarah’s chin firmed, and she looked away again.
“Oh, please. Stop whining—” she began.
“Mistress Cole, Sarah,” Fergus burred. “I willna tolerate such disrespect to yer sister. I dinna ken what troubles ye, but yer sister did say there was bad blood between ye. I told her I would see what I could do to ease the troubles betwixt ye, but I can see this willna be an easy task.”
Sarah’s eyes widened, and she turned to look at Fergus, then her sister. “What on earth is he talking about? How is this his business?”
She returned her attention to Fergus. “And don’t talk to me that way! You’re just some random stranger prancing around a tourist site in costume.”
Casey wanted to dive under the table or bolt for the door and the parking lot, but she didn’t dare abandon Fergus to her out-of-control sister.
To Casey’s surprise, Fergus grinned.
“Prancing is it? Aye, my comrades and I have been known to prance about on occasion.” His comments took the wind out of Sarah’s blustering sails. She opened her mouth as if to retort, then closed it.
“I must think on what to do or say next, so if ye will excuse me, I will finish my fine free food while I ponder the matter.”
“Of course you must finish. You really do look hungry,” Casey said, a twitch at the corner of her lips. No matter how Sarah spoke or behaved, Fergus brought a whimsical lightness to everything. She wasn’t laughing at his antics and garb so much as she enjoyed the novelty of him. He fascinated her; he made her smile.
“Well, I’m not going to sit here any longer. Give me the car keys, Casey.”
Fergus, having dug in again, paused and looked up.
“Why?” Casey asked.
“I don’t have to tell you why I want the keys. Just give them to me. I can’t deal with this anymore. I’m going to go sit in the car.”
Casey dug in her cross-body bag and dragged out the keys.
“Don’t leave me here,” she warned.
“Pffftt...” Sarah said as she grabbed the keys and stormed off without a backward glance.
Chapter Three
“I see what ye mean,” Fergus said with a sympathetic nod. “She is a right handful, that is certain.”
Casey’s eyes filled, but she blinked her tears away.
“She is. I’m so sorry that she was rude to you.”
“Auch! I have heard much worse in my time.”
“You mean between your sisters?”
He hated to dash the hopeful look on her face.
“No my sisters. They can treat each other fair cruelly, but nay. I was thinking of my brethren.”
“Oh! So your brothers bicker?”
“Aye, that they do. They are a cantankerous lot.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Weel, ye ken that I am referring to my comrades, my brothers in arms, aye? My maw and paw had only me and the two lasses. But I have seventy-eight brethren.”
Casey sat back in her chair with wide eyes.
“Oh, you’re military!” She smiled widely. “I didn’t realize that. I thought...”
“Ye thought what?”
“You’re not going to like this, but I had already wondered the same thing as Sarah...that maybe you actually did wear traditional costume to entertain tourists, maybe get something from them. You know, there are people that pose for photographs?” She put a quick hand on his arm.
Though he wished to take offense, he couldna.
“Don’t get me wrong, Fergus. I didn’t blame you, and I thought it was kind of cute, but now I know that you’re military. That’s different.”
Fergus pressed his lips together. He shouldna have spoken so openly. The lass had enough troubles. She didna need a Highlander ghostie frightening her. If she wanted to believe that he was a soldier in some sort of Scottish regiment of the British Army, so be it.
“I take no offense, lass,” he said truthfully. “Eat yer food now. Ye must keep up yer strength.”
His plate clean of every possible morsel of food, Fergus eyed the serving line, wishing he could taste more of the delights for which he and his brethren had yearned over the years, but he resisted. Truth be told, he was smarting from the notion that he had taken advantage of a lass.
“I’m just not hungry.”
“If ye dinna eat it, I will.”
She called Fergus’s bluff and pushed the plate toward him. “Go ahead.”
He smiled broadly, his cheeks aching less every time that he did.
“I joked, lass. Ye will eat it, or we will sit here until ye do.”
He took up the knife beside his empty plate and cut her sandwich into quarters. Picking up one of the quarters, he moved it near her lips.
“Eat, lass.
Her eyes, as soft as those of a deer, smiled, and Fergus’s heart melted. She couldna be ill
—it didna seem possible.
“Well, if you’re going to feed me...”
To his surprise, she didna take the bit of food he offered her for herself, but bit into the sandwich with trusting eyes. He drew in a sharp breath and held it. His hand shook.
Fergus couldna remember what he had planned for his brave act, but he vowed he would do what he could to save the lass’s life. Such tender eyes as looked at him couldna die.
Casey ate that bit o’ the sandwich and allowed him to give her one more quarter. He knew he couldna push her further though.
“Okay, I ate all of that for you, with you, but I’m done,” she said. “My stomach is all tied up in knots.”
Fergus kent the sensation, but he didna think their bellies fluttered for the same reasons.
“Is it yer sister?” he asked.
“Partially,” she said, propping her elbows on the table. “A little bit about you. And a whole lot of fear about the future.”
His chest thumped loudly as she mentioned him, but he put his vanity aside for the moment.
“Speak to me of yer fear, lass. At times, the telling of it with another can ease the burden.”
She favored him with a bonny smile that made him want to take her in his arms. He’d no had a sweetheart before Culloden. It wasna that he was inexperienced with the fairer sex; to be sure, he had shared a kiss here and there with a village lass or his mother’s willing kitchen maid, but he had never felt anything as sincere as he did now. Fergus had at first thought his sentiments were no more than sympathy, but his heart told him that what he felt for the beautiful lass who smiled at him now was much more than kindliness.
“I’m terrified of dying,” she said with a catch in her voice. “I’m frightened of the treatment, and I don’t want to go through it alone. I don’t even know who’s going to drive me back and forth or hold my hand when they inject the chemicals into my body. I know I’m being a big baby, but...that’s how I feel.”
Fergus closed his hand over hers. He said nothing to her but spoke silently.
Soni! Help me. I need to help her. Give me more than a few days. It is not enough.
