“There was nae need. The innkeepers had not seen them.” Niall frowned. “Why do ye ask?”
“I was just thinking.” She turned to Charlotte. “Your friends were a Sutherland and a Ross, nae?”
“Yes.”
Greer turned back to Niall. “They might have used different last names since their clans are nae liked in these parts.”
Niall’s frown deepened while Charlotte felt a spark of hope, something akin to getting an inspirational plot point in one of her novels when she hit writer’s block.
“I think the reason the innkeepers haven’t seen them is because they’re gone.”
Four pairs of eyes riveted on her.
“Why would you say that?” Niall asked.
“Aye. Ye said they were your friends,” Simon added.
“They were. Are.Aremy friends,” Geez, she’d almost blown it already, but her mind was still trying to spin the story. “But the intent was never to stay by my side forever, only to help me get away.” She looked at Greer, since it was easier than meeting Niall’s eyes. “Their families are like yours…they’ll send out search parties if they were gone too long.”
Simon raised a brow. “And your kin will nae come looking for ye?”
“I…suppose they might.” Where was she going to go with this? The plot was getting messy. She began to feel desperate when ingenuity struck. Yes! “We each left a note for our families that we were going to celebrate Hogmanay in Glasgow.”
“Glasgow?” Niall asked.
“Thea has relatives there.” That much was true, but they were in the twenty-first century. “It wouldn’t be that unusual for us to visit them.” And theyhad, Thea and Vi and herself, before they’d come to Inverness. 270-plus years in the future.
The plotline of her story was growing. Maybe this tale would work. She prayed that it would. She allowed herself a tentative smile. “Besides, if my betrothed tries to find me, I want him heading in the opposite direction.”
For a moment, amusement flickered in Niall’s eyes, then faded. “Your betrothed…how determined will he be to find ye?”
“Ah…” Just who was her “betrothed”? She hadn’t done a character sheet on him yet. “I’m not sure. He’s…prideful.”
Simon grimaced. “Just what we need. A bloody Campbell chasing after ye.”
“He’s not a Campbell.” She spoke without thinking.
“Nae? Which clan, then?”
“Umm…” Think.Think. Her writer’s mind went into overdrive. She had a cousin… “Grant. His name is Colin Grant.”
Simon narrowed his eyes. “Which family does he belong to? George Grant or James?”
For a moment, Charlotte was nonplussed. How in the world could they know her uncle’s name was George? Was her world changing back? But nothing moved and she didn’t feel dizzy. “George.”
Greer gasped. Simon swore. Their father banged his mug on the table. Luckily, it was pewter. Niall groaned.
Charlotte looked at them. Her blood felt like it was turning to ice by their expressions. “What? What is it?”
Niall looked at his father and brother, then turned to her. “General George Grant is nae our friend, lass.”
“And he’s a hell of a lot closer to us than the Campbells,” Simon said.
Greer glared at him. “Must ye curse?”
Her brother glared back. “The clan holds Urquhart Castle, just fifteen miles from here.”
“There’s a wee bit of water in between.” Niall looked at Charlotte. “If your betrothed lives that close, though, ye would have been smarter to go to Glasgow or Edinburgh.”
