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Jamaica peered into Kris’s face, then at her burn, then into her eyes again. “You don’t know him?”
Kris spread her hands. “Hard to say since I have no idea who ‘him’ is.”
“American. ’Bout…” Jamaica lifted her hand to indicate a height near six feet. “Not heavy, not thin. Brown hair.”
“Streaked?”
“He wore a cap.” Jamaica narrowed her eyes as if looking into the past. “Boston Red Sox.”
“Dougal did say this guy was from the East Coast.”
Jamaica started. “Dougal? Dougal Scott?” Kris nodded. “How you know dat man?”
“I went to his museum, and … out for drinks and dinner at The Clansman.”
“You dating him?” Jamaica did not appear to approve.
“Just friends.” Kris had a bad feeling. “Why? Are you dating him?”
Jamaica laughed. “Dat would not happen.”
“You don’t think he’s attractive? Those light eyes and the dark hair. He’s got great hands, and his legs aren’t so bad, either.”
“If he’s so wonderful, why you don’t want him?”
Why indeed? Kris didn’t plan to elaborate on that. Instead, she prevaricated. She was getting pretty good at it. “I won’t be here long enough to get involved. I’m not going to start something I can’t finish.”
Jamaica’s lips curved. “I bet he finish pretty quick.”
This surprised a laugh out of Kris. “You don’t like him?”
The other woman shrugged and didn’t comment.
There was something else going on here, and Kris really wanted to know what. She liked Dougal. She planned to spend more time with him. Unless there was a good reason she shouldn’t.
She kept her gaze steady on Jamaica, waiting, and eventually Jamaica gave in.
“He’s new to Drumnadrochit, but he t’inks he should be accepted just like he been here since de Kingdom of de Picts. People in Drumnadrochit dey take a little time to warm up to outsiders. Dey like de tourists fine, but to really be from here you must be here more dan a minute.”
“I thought his family lived in the village.”
“His grandpapa.” She waved a hand as if shooing a lazy fly. “Don’t mean nothin’. You must be accepted on your own for who you are and not who you came from.”
“Okay,” Kris said. Sounded like a good policy to her.
“He just pushy. T’inks he’s special. He don’t like it dat I’m accepted and he’s not. Gets a little angry ’bout it. Me, I t’ink he should just chill.”
Kris’s lips twitched at the hip comment uttered in an accent as old as these hills, but her amusement died at the idea of Dougal being angry over something so silly. She’d known people who got worked up over things they couldn’t control, over imagined slights and foolish desires. They were usually prime candidates for “snapping” and doing something violent.
Uh-oh, she thought, remembering that last night someone had.
But last night she’d been with Dougal, watched him drive away toward Drumnadrochit; then very soon after she’d been attacked. He wouldn’t have been able to double back that fast, would he? And why bother when he could have killed her anywhere on the road to The Clansman and tossed her into the loch?
“I do not like dis.” Concern tightened Jamica’s lips and creased her brow.
“I won’t go out with him again.”
“Dat’s not what I mean. Dougal is harmless. What I do not like is a stranger asking for you by name. Here, dere.” She lifted both arms and tossed her hands outward. “Apparently everywhere.”
