A Highlander Walks into a Bar--A Highland, Georgia Novel

by Laura Trentham

  “You don’t know that. In fact, before you and Gareth talk, the four of us have something to discuss. Come on.” Izzy shushed the argument her mom tried to launch.

  She pulled her mom out of the shadows and to the stairs leading off the stage. As she knew he would be, Alasdair was at the bottom and smiled up at her. Gareth was at his side, looking worried and uncomfortable.

  “Let’s go to the house for a few minutes of privacy,” Izzy said.

  “We can’t leave, Izzy. What if something happens?” Her mom looked anywhere but at Gareth, who had fixed a stare of longing on her mom that was both pathetic and sweet.

  “The festival is not going to descend into chaos in fifteen minutes, but to put your mind at ease, I’ll call Dr. Jameson to let him know we’ll be occupied for a bit and ask him to cover for us.”

  Off-duty policemen were hired to keep the festival attendees corralled and to make sure none misbehaved in the woods or in the shadows of the house. The concert brought out a wilder set than attended the earlier events, but it would be over before full darkness fell. She waved at the officers they crossed paths with and continued on.

  The tense silence that greeted them in the house was like the seconds between when the pin on a grenade is pulled and the explosion. Izzy slipped her hand into Alasdair’s and faced her mom and Gareth. “You two need to talk—alone—but before you do, Alasdair has an idea that affects all of us.”

  “Well, speak up, laddie?” Gareth asked after it was clear Alasdair didn’t know how to begin.

  “Cairndow,” Alasdair said simply.

  “What about it?”

  “It was my favorite place in the world. You were—are—very important to me, Uncle Gareth.” Alasdair took a deep breath. “And I want you to be happy.”

  “I’ll settle in again when I get home.” The starkness in Gareth’s voice wasn’t lost on anyone.

  “You and Rose care for each other. A pile of stones, neither here nor in Scotland, should come between you. If you had no responsibilities in Scotland, would you choose to leave or stay in Highland with Rose?”

  Gareth sucked in a deep breath and turned to her mom, reaching for her hands. “I would choose Rosie in a heartbeat.”

  Alasdair stood as a preacher did during a wedding, and Izzy supposed her mom and Gareth were making a sort of vow to each other. “And would you, Rose, leave Highland to be with Gareth if you had no responsibilities to Stonehaven?”

  When her mom cut a glance in Izzy’s direction, Izzy said, “Don’t make me part of your choice, Mom.”

  Her mom heaved a sigh that was more resigned than happy. “I would choose Gareth.”

  “As you all know, I’m out of a job.” Alasdair’s smile helped diffuse some of the tension. “And, someday, hopefully many, many years from now, I’ll inherit the title and Cairndow from Gareth. I propose that I take over the management of Cairndow now.”

  Gareth muttered a string of Gaelic before shaking his head. “Are you mad?”

  “Quite possibly. But there’s more.” Alasdair tugged Izzy and tucked her under his good shoulder.

  Izzy lifted her chin and smiled at her mom. “Alasdair has invited me to Cairndow.”

  “For how long?” Confusion and shock ran rampant over her mom’s face.

  Izzy forced herself not to glance uncertainly at Alasdair. “Hopefully, for a long, long time, but we’ll see what happens. I can maybe find the magic I’ve been missing and write my masterpiece there. Plus, my accounting background and experience running the festival will be put to good use at Cairndow.”

  Touching her mom’s arm, she added, “Even if things work out, I’ll come back every summer to help with the festival. Although…” She cast a meaningful glance at Gareth.

  Gareth straightened his kilt and his spine. “If Alasdair is manning Cairndow, I would be free to offer my assistance to you, Rosie. My heart too, if you’ll have it.”

  “You’d be free,” her mom said with wonder in her voice.

  “I’d be free.” Gareth’s grin made his eyes twinkle.

  Her mom’s expression lost its joy as she turned to Izzy. “Is this truly what you want? Scotland is a long way.”

  A pang that felt suspiciously like homesickness made Izzy feel light-headed. How was it possible to miss something she hadn’t left yet?

  “I’ll miss Stonehaven and Highland and you terribly, but I’ll be back to visit. Alasdair has been the greatest adventure of my life, and I’m not ready for it to end.”

  “It’s exactly what I always wanted for you.” Her mom’s eyes sparkled with tears even as she smiled and swept Izzy into a hug that smelled of cotton candy and cut grass. She smelled like the Highland festival. Izzy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, tucking away the memory for later when she was far away and missing home.

  When her mom pulled away, both of them were wiping tears away with laughter. Sending a look under her lashes in Gareth’s direction, her mom said, “If you two will excuse us, Gareth Blackmoor and I have a few more issues to hash out.”

  Gareth turned the color of a July tomato. “Rosie, I’m so incredibly sorry I misrepresented myself, but all the important bits were true, I swear.”

  Alasdair and Izzy retreated while her mom made an insinuating comment about Gareth’s important bits.

  They slipped out the front door, but when Izzy would have made her way back toward the music, Alasdair pulled her into the shadows of the evergreens at the side of the house. The sharp scent was comforting and fresh.

  “I need to make sure havoc is not being wreaked.” Izzy’s protest was weak at best and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “How are you feeling?” He nuzzled her nose.

  How well he understood her second-guessing, doubting nature. “I’m ecstatic for Mom and Gareth.”

  “What about your decision to accompany me back to Cairndow? You can remain at Stonehaven with your mom and Gareth, you know.”

  She leaned back a little but didn’t release her grip on him. “Are you trying to talk me out of coming home with you?”

  “I want to make sure you’re coming for you—for us—and not just to give your mom and Gareth space.” Tension thrummed through him, waiting for her answer.

  Alasdair had invested his heart in her decision. His vulnerability took her out by the knees, and she pitched into him, kissing him with all the wildness and passion she’d kept at bay on the stage earlier.

  “Hey there now! Break it up!” A booming voice cut them apart. “Terribly sorry, Izzy. I thought you were a couple of teenagers sneaking off.”

  Izzy’s laugh was carefree. She grabbed Alasdair’s hand and skirted the periphery of the mass of people enjoying the concert. The air was cooling, and while her feet hurt and she couldn’t wait to take a shower and climb in bed, she was happy and excited.

  Her gaze kept darting to Alasdair as if he might disappear.

  “Have I grown two noses?” he asked.

  “Nope. Still have the one that’s been bonked twice in as many weeks. You might as well resign yourself to getting it broken before year’s end.” Her tease turned a bit more serious. “How’s your shoulder?”

  He rotated it. “Sore, but better.”

  A woman stood alone at the edge of the field, her blonde hair appearing white in the setting sun. “Isn’t that your mom?”

  “Yes, and you need a proper introduction.” He changed their direction.

  Izzy wanted to dig her heels in. She had made a terrible impression the night before, and Alasdair’s mom seemed the type to value appearances. With her free hand, she smoothed her frazzled hair back and tugged at her T-shirt.

  “She probably thinks I’m a harridan after last night,” Izzy said.

  “Mum can be intimidating, but she wants what’s best for me. You are best for me. Therefore, she will welcome you with open arms.” His reassuring words were working until he added the caveat, “Eventually.”

  Izzy muttered some choice words that made Alasdair smil
e.

  “Mum,” Alasdair said as they drew closer. Izzy dropped his hand and stood to the side.

  Fiona turned with a gasp and took Alasdair’s arms, looking him up and down. “Are you alright? I looked everywhere for you, then you disappeared after you received your ribbon.”

  “Dr. Jameson doesn’t think I did any permanent damage.”

  “Dr. Jameson is a veterinarian, and you are not a dog,” Fiona said slowly as if Alasdair had taken a knock on the head.

  Alasdair turned and drew Izzy forward. “Last night was a bit of a mess, but Isabel and I have hashed things out.”

  Fiona transferred her cutting blue gaze to Izzy. “Lovely to meet you once more under more promising circumstances, dear.”

  Izzy pasted on a smile and held a hand out for a shake, hoping it wasn’t sweaty with nerves. “Nice to see you again too, Mrs. Blackmoor.”

  “Call me Fiona, please.” While her voice was aloof, it wasn’t antagonistic, which Izzy counted as a win.

  “Mum, we’ve made tentative plans.” Alasdair spoke as if he expected an argument.

  “Are you staying in Highland?” Lines bracketed Fiona’s mouth.

  “Actually, Isabel and I are going to manage Cairndow while Uncle Gareth remains in Highland with Isabel’s mother.” Alasdair’s body grew taut against hers.

  “Well.” Fiona narrowed her eyes and looked toward the stage where the plaintive notes of a bagpipe faded into an eruption of applause and whistles. When she turned back to them, she’d composed her face into the facsimile of a smile. “That seems a neat solution. You always did love Cairndow.”

  “It’s strange but since I’ve been in Highland, I feel like Cairndow is calling me home,” Alasdair said.

  Fiona’s smiled eased into warmth and she patted his cheek. “You’re a Blackmoor. How could it be any other way? You’ve already got the look of a wild Scot. Is that why you grew the beard?”

  Alasdair rubbed his hand over his jaw. “No. Maybe? Perhaps it was my subconscious giving me a shove in the right direction.”

  “I haven’t been to Cairndow since…” Fiona shook her head, but shadows remained in her eyes.

  “You’ll come visit once Alasdair and I are settled in, won’t you?” Izzy wasn’t sure what prompted the urgency of the invitation. Perhaps the tentativeness Fiona projected when it came to Alasdair and Cairndow.

  Fiona took one of Alasdair’s hands and one of Izzy’s. “While I wouldn’t have paired Alasdair with an American, you seem entirely capable of handling my son and Cairndow and the expectations that will fall to you as Countess of Cairndow if you are married.”

  The shock of hearing the M-word along with a title attached to her made her heart beat like it had been kicked. “Countess? Are you kidding me?”

  Fiona’s laugh was amused and incredulous. “Alasdair will one day be the tenth Earl of Cairndow. Did it never cross your mind you would be a countess?”

  “Not for a second.” Izzy couldn’t wrap her head around the notion. “I mean, we haven’t discussed marriage. It’s too soon. We’re still getting to know each other. Even though we’re compatible in—”

  One of Fiona’s perfect brows twitched higher, and Izzy covered her mouth to keep from embarrassing herself further in front of this elegant, proper creature who was Alasdair’s mother.

  Izzy’s phone buzzed with a text. Dr. Jameson needed help closing out the ticket counter. She waggled her phone. “I’ve been neglecting my duties. Please plan on staying with us at Stonehaven, Fiona. You guys go relax with some wine.”

  She exchanged a brief kiss with Alasdair then ran as if escaping a chain gang toward the crowd of people.

  Even though she was tired, her senses had sharpened, taking in the sights and smells and sounds of the festival. If things with Alasdair didn’t work out the way she hoped or even if they did, she would be a different person by next year’s festival. She was excited and scared and ready to leap into the unknown.

  * * *

  It was after midnight when Isabel crawled into bed after a quick shower and heaved a sigh. Alasdair had fought his own exhaustion to wait for her. “Everything okay?”

  “A successful first day in the books, and we’re well prepared for tomorrow. Did your mom settle in?” she asked with a yawn.

  “She’s next door in my old room, so no funny business,” Alasdair teased.

  “As if I have the energy to do more than just lie here. Although, if you’re still in your kilt…” She raised her head and checked under the covers. “How disappointing.”

  “My entire wardrobe will be made of kilts as soon as we get home.” Alasdair smiled in the dark.

  “Home.” The seriousness of Isabel’s tone shifted the mood. “It’s strange to think Stonehaven will no longer be my home.”

  “Stonehaven will always be your home, Isabel.” He groped for her hand and raised it to his lips. “But I hope you’ll come to appreciate Cairndow.”

  “As long as you’re there, I have no doubt I will. I want to invite everyone for a visit. Our mothers, of course, but also Dr. Jameson and Anna and even Holt.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” He measured his next words. “I told Mum about Lewis. I’m tired of keeping secrets.”

  Isabel turned to her side to face him. “What did she say?”

  “She was hurt, but not devastated. I don’t know if she’ll ever want to meet Lewis, but she understands why I want to have a relationship with my half-brother.”

  “I’m sad for her. She went through so much with your father.”

  “I think—hope—she’s past it all now. After all, she’s got a boyfriend.” It was still hard to say the word in connection with his mum. “And, while I’m not sure she’ll ever stop meddling in my life, she seems content with my choices of late. You, included.”

  “She actually said that?”

  He chuckled. “Not in so many words, but it’s inferred by the fact she’s still here.”

  “Great,” Isabel said sarcastically before snuggling into his side. “Will you tell me about Cairndow?’

  He did, and as he spoke of the cliffs and moors and the castle, a feeling of surety settled over him like the warmest of blankets. He’d found his path and person he wanted to share it with. He wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, but a snuffle interrupted him.

  Kissing her temple, he nosed into her hair and wondered how his fate and fortunes had tangled with hers so completely in such a short amount of time. He fell asleep and dreamed he chased Isabel along the cliffs of Cairndow under blue skies, but this time, he caught her and would never let her go.

  Epilogue

  SIX MONTHS LATER

  Iain Connors parked his old Land Rover in front of the main entrance of Cairndow. January was colder than a sheep’s teat on the moors, and he pulled the collar of his wool-lined jacket tighter around his neck, but the chill wind found a way to invade every crack and crevice left unprotected.

  Blustery snow stuck to his eyelashes on the short walk around to the kitchens. It was habit to bypass the formal entrance for the warmth pumped out by the AGA cooker kept busy baking bread to sell in the village.

  Since Alasdair and Isabel had taken over the management from Gareth, changes were afoot. Changes Iain found both refreshing and disturbing. Even though he had no formal claim on Cairndow, Iain had been raised in the shadow of the castle. The grounds and moors had been his home through all the seasons, not just summers and the occasional school holiday like Alasdair.

  His da, Dugan, was content as the Cairndow groundskeeper, and it was understood Iain would take over after his da retired, which would never happen voluntarily. Iain expected his da would signal his retirement by keeling over one day in the flower beds.

  Iain wasn’t even sure he wanted the job. Yes, the stark beauty of the moors and cliffs and ocean fed his soul, but there was more to heaven and earth than Cairndow. As a second lieutenent in the 19th Regiment Royal Artillery, Iain had seen more than he’d ever dreamed of as a boy at
Cairndow. He’d seen great beauty and extreme ugliness in people and places, and struggled to resolve the existence of both in the world.

  After his discharge, he’d spent the autumn in Glasgow working construction. The physically exhausting job helped defuse the thoughts and memories that plagued him, but the echo of Cairndow had called him home. The serenity and peace he searched for remained elusive. Nothing ever happened in the middle of winter at Cairndow, yet a sense of anticipation had kept him wired. The quiet chafed instead of calmed.

  It was this restlessness he fought as he entered the castle and stole a scone from the cooling rack, scooting out of the way of Mrs. MacDonald’s flapping hands with a wicked laugh.

  “Och, you’re a fair delight in the kitchen, Mrs. Mac.” He gave her a wink.

  “Get on with yourself, boy. Flattery will get you nowhere with me.” Except, she grinned, pleased as punch and tossed him another scone.

  Mrs. Mac was as close to a mother as Iain had ever had, and he dropped a kiss on her papery, flour-dusted cheek on his way to meet with Alasdair in the castle’s library.

  Taking the stone steps two at a time, he emerged into a tunnel-like hallway. The thick rug underfoot had been worn down the middle by years of footsteps. He ducked his head under the low doorframe to enter the library. At six foot four, Iain had been made bigger and wider than whatever earl had built the castle.

  The library was a large room with walls lined with books both ancient and modern. A fire burned in the fireplace, but the heat didn’t reach him, and he chose to keep his jacket on. A desk was positioned away from the drafty windows and had been commandeered by Isabel. Not only was she a dab hand at keeping the books, but she was a writer. And quite an entertaining one based on the pages she’d allowed him to read.

  Usually sunny and funny, Isabel slumped in one of the cushy armchairs, clutching a tissue while Alasdair knelt on the floor at her feet, rubbing her arms and whispering. Obviously something had happened that required Alasdair’s deft touch at encouragement or commiseration.

  Alasdair had had to learn to navigate tricky emotional waters at a young age, and Iain had always admired his ability to smooth feathers and charm his way into good graces. Iain had been raised among men, minus Mrs. Mac, and didn’t possess the faintest inkling on how to translate a woman’s body language. He’d been told he was a right large son of a bitch more than once by the fairer sex.