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“Lots of people have tattoos these days,” Kris continued. “Lots of people around here.”
“I didn’t notice.”
Kris had a hard time believing that, but she wasn’t going to push it. If Dougal had a tattoo, he wasn’t going to show it to her anyway.
“Thanks a lot.” Kris headed for the door. She couldn’t help it if the sentence came out sounding more sarcastic than thankful. Of course he’d been more asinine than helpful.
“Why him?” Dougal murmured, something in his voice making her turn back, though she didn’t want to.
“Why do you hate him so much?”
“I have my reasons.” Dougal’s expression went from disgusted to sly. “Maybe you should ask yourself: Why do you like him so much?”
“What kind of question is that?”
He twitched one shoulder. “You haven’t been here more than a week. Are you the kind of woman who falls into bed with a man that fast?”
Kris almost asked, What kind? but decided that she didn’t want to hear anything else from a man whose opinions of women and sex were slightly outdated. She should count herself lucky that she hadn’t felt the overwhelming attraction for Dougal that she’d experienced the first time she’d seen Liam at Urquhart Castle.
When she’d frenched him and she hadn’t even known his name.
“Huh,” she murmured. That so wasn’t like her.
“Yeah,” Dougal agreed, though he could have no idea what she was thinking.
Kris walked out. She wasn’t going to listen to any more of Dougal’s crap. However, he had made her wonder what it was about Liam that had caused her to behave contrary to all her usual habits.
Was it because he was beautiful? Because he had an accent? Because he was manly and mysterious? She wasn’t the type to fall for that.
So why had she? Kris couldn’t answer that for herself any more than she’d been able to answer it for Dougal.
After stopping at the Drumnadrochit version of Walgreens and purchasing heavy foundation and powder to cover her bruise—she’d only brought along the bare basics of makeup to Scotland—as well as a sandwich and chips, Kris headed to the cottage.
She’d just come over a hill, leaving Drumnadrochit behind and a stretch of empty road ahead, when a splash from the loch drew her attention. Believing she’d again see a whole lot of nothing, Kris cast a quick glance toward the water. This time what she saw there made her stumble and nearly fall, before stopping dead and staring.
Because, this time, something stared back.
The head that lifted from the surface could have been that of an eel, a snake, an otter. But the large, humped body that played hide-and-seek with the waves was nothing like any of the three.
Kris glanced around. They were completely alone. No cars on the road. No hikers in the hills. No boats dotted the water anywhere in sight.
“Figures,” she muttered. She was not only without a camera but also without witnesses.
The creature just floated there, nearer to the shore than a being of her size should be able to float. Though Kris’s feet felt encased in cement shoes, she forced them across the road and down the slight incline to the loch, expecting at any moment for the monster to disappear. But she didn’t.
Kris stood at the water’s edge. Had Nessie ever revealed herself to anyone like this for long? If she had, no one had ever admitted to it. Which made Kris wonder if anyone who got this close went swimming and never came back.
Kris began to inch up the hill, away from the beastie. Her heart thundered so loudly she thought she might faint. Her face was hot, her hands like ice. She felt kind of sick to her stomach.
The creature continued to drift, head lifted, glistening eyes the same shade as her gray-black coat fixed on Kris. Then she—was it a she? If not, then why the Nessie?—shifted, a flipper flapped as if shoving something in Kris’s direction. Like a ballet, slow and graceful, the monster’s body slowly slid the other way, creating a wake that brought a bobbing something toward the shore.
Transfixed, Kris forgot about retreating and instead retraced her steps until her shoes slipped in the wet dirt at water’s edge.
“Jamaica?” she whispered.
Nessie tilted her head as if she knew that name. Then she sank straight down, disappearing from view, leaving no sign that she’d been there, not even a ripple.
Something bumped against Kris’s toe. She glanced down.
