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Dougal lay sprawled on the dance floor, the hand that had hit her now rubbing his own chin. His gaze went past Liam to Kris. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Kris wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t “all right.” Her cheek hurt like a son of a bitch. She was going to have a bruise, if not a black eye. But he did seem sorry, and he hadn’t meant to hurt her. But what the hell had gotten into him?
“Here, dearie.” Effy appeared at her side with a dish towel of ice. “Press this right there.” She showed Kris what to do.
“None for me?” Dougal asked.
Effy sniffed and ignored him.
Dougal got to his feet and shoved past Liam, headed in Kris’s direction.
Liam grabbed him. “Ye willnae go near her again.”
Dougal drew himself up, towering over Liam, yet Liam was the one who appeared fearsome.
“I’ll kill ye if ye hurt her,” Liam vowed.
“Whoa,” Kris said—ignoring Effy’s murmurs of, “Shh, dearie.”—“Calm down.”
Both men turned, blinking as if they’d forgotten Kris was there. Which they couldn’t have considering they’d been talking—no, arguing—over her.
“You slept with him, didn’t you?” Dougal demanded.
The question was so shockingly inappropriate Kris’s mouth fell open. Then her cheeks flamed, giving him the answer he did not deserve.
Dougal made a disgusted sound. “Of course you did. Women can never help themselves around a pretty face, a perfect body. I’m sure he’s got a cock the size of Inverness.”
Kris winced. Nice.
“Dinnae listen to him,” Effy said. “Sometimes Dougal can be—”
“Honest?” Dougal interrupted. “Forthright?”
“An ass,” Liam muttered.
“Takes one to know one,” Dougal returned, and Kris couldn’t help it; she giggled.
Dougal’s face flushed, and Kris blurted, “Sorry! It’s just so school yard. Fighting over a girl and ‘takes one to know one.’ It struck me—” Dougal turned on his heel and strode out. “Funny,” she finished as the door slammed behind him.
The room remained silent for several ticks of the clock, then broke into loud conversation as if nothing had happened.
“What was that?” she asked. “He and I— We— Didn’t. I mean, we talk. We were friendly. But—”
“Dougal tries so hard to fit in,” Effy said softly. “But he cannae. He must have thought, in you, he’d found a kindred spirit at last.”
Kris cast her a quick, suspicious glance. Did Effy know she and Dougal were fellow skeptics? How?
“Yer both American,” Effy continued. “Newcomers. Interested in Nessie and the like. I’m sure he felt ye were his special friend.”
“Not anymore,” Kris muttered.
Liam pulled the ice pack away from her throbbing cheek. He grimaced when he saw what lay beneath.
“Mo gradh,” he whispered. “Tha me duilich.”
When he spoke to her like that she forgot who she was, who he was; she only remembered what they’d been like together.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
