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I wanted to make a snappy comeback to throw him off his stride. I was rapidly discovering, however, that Finley was not easily rattled.
Suddenly, a thump against the door on the opposite side of the kitchen caught Finley’s attention. He jumped up, turned the knob, and backed away as a good-sized blur of fur and energy burst into the room. The dog was a beauty, with long droopy ears and a playful disposition.
My exhaustion forgotten for the moment, I crouched by my chair and laughed out loud when the puppy launched itself in my direction and licked my face enthusiastically.
“Down, girl. Sit. Stay. Cinnamon!” Finley tried, but to no avail.
“Oh, she’s a beauty,” I said. “And she’s not hurting anything…are you, love?” The animal recognized a kindred spirit and allowed me to cuddle her without protest. She even looked at Finley soulfully as if to say, This lady gets me.
“She’s an English cocker. Her paws may be dirty,” Finley warned. “She’ll ruin your pants.”
“Oh, pooh. They’re only pants, aren’t they, baby girl?” The dog was warm and affectionate, and I found myself with tears in my eyes for no other reason than that I was a little bit homesick. I kept my head down and my attention on the pup so Finley wouldn’t see my distress.
By now, I should have been tucked inside my charming Scottish cottage with my belongings neatly put away in an antique bureau and a pot of hot tea on the stove. Instead, I was stranded in a stranger’s house with nothing to look forward to tomorrow than the unexciting prospect of tracking down a cleaning crew and a tow-truck for the car.
Finley whistled. Cinnamon hung her head.
A second whistle, and the dog abandoned me.
“She stays in my office when I’m away or if I have company. Otherwise, she has the run of the house,” Finley explained.
I sniffed and managed a watery smile. “Don’t exile her on my account. I like animals. I was never allowed to have any growing up, and now my housekeeper has allergies, so I still don’t have a dog or a cat. I’d love for Cinnamon to hang out with me as much as she wants.”
Finley stared at me, his gaze narrowed. “I can’t figure you out, Duchess.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you travel with enough luggage for a visiting head of state, you don’t mind if a dog ruins your couture clothes, and because of an employee’s issues, you choose not to have a pet you desperately want.”
“Hilda’s not just an employee,” I protested. “She’s been with me for almost a decade. She was one of my babysitters when I was growing up. After I left for college, my mother kept her on as a maid, and once I returned to Atlanta and settled into my own place, Hilda came to work for me. Not having a pet is a small sacrifice, believe me. Hilda and I go way back.”
“I see.”
I wasn’t sure that he did. What did it matter? Finley and I were ships that passed in the night. As soon as I had a working vehicle and a livable accommodation, I was out of here.
Without further cross-examination, my host led me out of the kitchen and up a narrow flight of stairs to the second floor. I could swear Finley’s home didn’t have a single right angle anywhere. The walls and floors and staircases moved drunkenly in all directions. However, the place was rock solid.
Too bad it didn’t have some of the moving staircases from the Harry Potter books. No telling when one would come in handy in this house.
The guest quarters were reassuringly normal, at least the ones to which I was assigned. I surveyed the bed. It was generous for a single person, larger than the twins back home but not exactly a full size or a queen. The coverlet was made of heavy brown cotton embroidered with Celtic symbols in green and lavender.
On the hardwood floor, woolen rugs lay scattered here and there. The single window was shuttered for the night. Cinnamon nuzzled my leg with her head as if seeking a nod of approval.
“This is lovely,” I said. “I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I’m sorry to be such a bother.”
Finley shrugged, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “No bother at all. We have a reputation to uphold here on the island. It wouldn’t do for word to get out that old Cedric stranded a pretty American tourist and no one came to her rescue. I’ll go get your bag off the back of the bike. Feel free to explore the facilities. I think you’ll find everything you need.”
While Finley was gone, Cinnamon and I made our way into the small but charming bathroom. The tank for the commode was high on a wall with a pull chain for flushing. A white, enameled cabinet hid towels, toothbrushes, and various other amenities. A tiny, blue glass vase on the sink held a single pansy. The place was spotless.
I doubted Finley was the kind of man to scrub floors, so he must have a housekeeper. Perhaps that person could direct me to someone who would be able to attack Cedric’s house. “Well, Cinnamon,” I said, “I guess you’re stuck with me for a day or two.”
Finley returned with my carry-on bag as I spoke to the dog. He grimaced. “Don’t get your hopes up. I don’t know which is the bigger challenge—getting your car out of the ditch or having someone tackle that house. Both problems will probably require patience.”
“I can be patient,” I said mildly. Staying with Finley wasn’t exactly a hardship. I didn’t want to be a burden. “And perhaps if I can get the car fixed, I should simply clean the house myself. It’s not all that big.”
“Don’t be daft,” he said, the grimace turning into a frown. “You’ve no supplies or equipment. It would take you days. And besides, do you really want to spend your vacation on your hands and knees?”
My eyes widened. I blinked and swallowed. Finley went stock still as a tide of red rushed from his neck to his face when he realized what he had said.
