Charlotte frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He didn’t answer that but looked quickly around. “Do ye have kin with ye? How many? Where are they?”
She took a small step back, beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with him. Just like in Gothic novels when the super-sexy, hunky hero was a bit mad. It would be her luck.
“I…I’m with two friends. I probably should go find them.”
She glanced toward the nearly empty street but didn’t see either Thea or Vi. Of course, it was really dark… She blinked and squinted. The street lights had all gone out. A power outage maybe, since there were a few candles in windows. Other than that, the only light was the reflection of the moon off the water.
“I…don’t see them,” she said, “but I’m staying at the Best Western just across the river—”
“The what?” He lifted his head. “Where are ye staying?”
“There.” She started to point then dropped her hand as her heart followed with a heavy thump to her stomach.
There was no hotel on the opposite bank.
“Where?” he asked again.
“I… I…” The world felt like it was suddenly spinning, and she stumbled slightly. Niall caught her arm and steadied her. “Tell me where your kin are, lass, and I’ll escort ye to them.”
“I don’t know, exactly.” She looked down the street. The cathedral didn’t seem to be there either. She tried to think. Had someone laced a drink earlier? But she’d only had one glass of champagne before coming out into the street for the midnight festivities. Vi and Thea had shared the same bottle. She peered closer into the darkness. Where were they? Where were the familiar buildings? The cars? What was happening?
It felt surreal, much like a recurring dream she had of wanting to run but her legs wouldn’t move. Slowly, she flexed a foot. It moved. At least, this wasn’t a dream, then.
Had Brigadoon descended and swept her up? Was she experiencing something surreal?Stop it!Charlotte forced herself to rein in her imagination. She hadnotbeen transported to a mythical Scottish village that once, every hundred years, became visible to mortals who were allowed to enter its gates. She tried to shake her head to clear it, but it only made her feel lightheaded. She started to sway.
“I think I may be a bit tipsy…”
****
Niall looked down at the lass who’d just fainted in his arms. Part of her long, golden hair hid her face, the rest was draped over his arm and felt like silk. When he’d first seen her dancing in the circle, her hair flying out behind her, he’d been reminded of a faerie sylph floating through the air, her feet barely skimming the earth.
And she turned out to be a Campbell. Odd, though, that she should admit it, especially since Colonel John Campbell commanded the English forces here at Fort George. Did the lass not realize Bonnie Prince Charlie’s followers were everywhere? Did she not ken this was enemy territory?
Perhaps she was daft. A pity for one so bonny, but she spoke with a strange accent. Her replies sounded confused and she wanted to go to some place called “best western.” Best place in the western Highlands? Best place in the west Isles? He shook his head. She had pointed across the river to an empty space.
And where were her kin? If she were related to the colonel, soldiers would be everywhere. He looked around the deserted street again. He didn’t see any, but other Campbells could be about. Just because he couldn’t see them didn’t mean they weren’t out there. The Campbell tartan was dark like the Black Watch… He paused in his thinking and looked down at the woman he still held. Her tartan had lighter shades of green slashed through with orange stripes. Clan MacGregor. He frowned. They were rivals of the Campbells, but the MacGregors were also proscribed. Why on earth would she choose to wear the colors of a clan that had been publicly declared the enemy of the English government? Perhaps she figured Scots sympathetic to Prince Charlie would automatically accept a MacGregor as an ally. And most would. Perhaps she also knew she was in dangerous territory here in Inverness and thought the plaid would protect her. But then, why tell him her last name? None of it made sense.
Well. He was hardly solving the quandary by standing like an eejit in the middle of an empty street past midnight. The woman had still not opened her eyes, although from her regular breathing she seemed to be sleeping.
“Lass?” He jostled her slightly. “Ye need to wake up.”
“Hmmm,” she murmured and buried her head against his shoulder much like a child who was worn out from play.
But she was no child. He was very much aware that one soft breast was also pressed against his chest and that her slumped body fitted quite nicely along the length of his.
He couldn’t just leave her here. Niall looked around once more, but nothing moved in the shadows. Not that he was expecting movement. If her kin had been lurking about, they would have attacked him—or at least confronted him—by now. Charlotte Campbell was his responsibility, at least for the time being.
With a sigh, he stooped and slipped his free arm under her knees to lift her, which almost was his undoing since the skirt slipped and he could feel bare, smooth thighs. For a moment he wondered if the devil had been loosed this night and was beleaguering him with a beautiful, helpless woman in his arms.
He shifted his weight, adjusted his hold, and started walking. His own kin at Castle Dounie were used to him rescuing stray and hurt animals, but he’d never brought back a woman before.
Certainly not one who was a Campbell.
****
Charlotte awoke the next morning to bright sunshine and the wafting smell of cinnamon-scented oatmeal. For a moment she luxuriated in the soft downiness of the mattress and the warmth of a heavy wool blanket pulled up to her chin, allowing only her cheeks to feel the frigidness of the air.
