“No.”
“Tease.”She turned from me and wandered from the kitchen into the next room.
Rude.She could have at least requested permission.
“Be careful.I’ve still got areas that need fixing,” I snapped.
“How much of the castle have you renovated?”She reappeared in the archway.
“Not much.Kitchen was my first priority, followed by a washroom.”
“Dragons cook their food?”
“No, but this man does.”
“So you don’t eat as a dragon?”
“I didn’t say that, and let me make it clear.I didn’t let you inside so you could pester me with questions.”
“What else would we talk about, though?”
I cast about for something, anything, and emerged with, “Nothing.”
For some reason, she laughed.“Don’t be silly.There’s no harm in talking.”
“Yes, there is.If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to leave.”
“In a storm?I don’t think so, not to mention, I’ve not accomplished what I came to do.”
“Ah, yes, the Jacobite Gold.”
“You reallyread my emails.”
“I did, and you’re mistaken.The treasure isn’t here.Isn’t it theorized to be hidden somewhere in the Highlands?”
“That’s what everyone says, and yet, I found a letter written to George Bullough, the previous owner of this castle.”
“And?”
“And in a letter penned by someone named Finlay Stewart, he asks if George is going to spend his found fortune.”
“Don’t you think if Bullough had access to the gold, he’d have kept this place in better repair?”
“Could be he feared spending it, as the coins are quite distinctive.”
“Not if melted down.”
Her mouth rounded.“What a terrible thing to say.”
“Historians and your attachment to old things,” I scoffed.
“There’s nothing wrong with being interested in and wanting to preserve our past.”
“I’d be more impressed if people learned from it.”
“Speaking of learning, how come our Scottish legends don’t mention any dragons on the isle, or the mainland for that matter?”
“Not a very good historian, are you?Or have you forgotten thebeithir?”I used the Gaelic word for dragon.
