Islan shakes her head. “Because there are too many details. Way too fuckin’ many. You’ll see, once you read them.”
“Even Leith’s read them,” Cairstina says. “And he doesn’t like it one bit. I’m afraid he’s even considered sussing out the writer, but I’ve done my best to dissuade him.” She frowns. “Hate the idea of a woman like us being punished or worse.”
Flora sighs. “I’ll be back, lassies.” She gives me a smile. “Nice to meet you, Bryn, and I hope to see you again.”
She takes her leave. I wonder if she’s caught somewhere in the middle with the opinions about the books.
Nan nods from where she sits. “Romance novels are the heart of a good, proper view on a woman’s sexuality,” she announces, earning guffaws and flushed cheeks from her granddaughters. She ignores them. “And those boys have plenty of things to do without worrying about such trivial things. Now, then, lassie, go on and read them so we can gush about them, aye?”
She winks at me, and I laugh.
“Aye, I’m looking forward to it. For now, I have to go find Mac, though. There’s something I need to discuss with him.”
Namely, how I get back into town to get the dress so I can finish it. I also need to figure out what I’m going to do with my bodyguard.
I leave them and go to the main hallway, when I hear someone. I find one of the staff dusting just outside of Islan’s room. How odd. There doesn't seem to be any particular reason why she's here. It looks clean out here, nothing but a few framed prints on the wall, and a couple of end tables. When she sees me, she starts, and I watch as she puts a little notebook back in her pocket. She casts a furtive glance my way, and I nod back.
Did she hear that conversation we were having in the other room? Does she know anything about these books the girls are speaking of?
“Hello, there,” I say to her, but she doesn’t turn to speak to me or even look my way. “Hello!”
She takes off at a run. Does she have something to do with the mystery that surrounds these books? I’ll mention it to Mac and see what he has to say about it. It's all a wee bit disconcerting.
As I walk down the hall to the stairwell, I hear Mac’s dad’s voice. I immediately freeze. Everybody else I've met has been welcoming and kind. He's the only one who knows me for who I am, the only one I need to completely avoid because if anyone will see through my scheme, he will.
I can’t go through with it, though, I can’t. I know this now. I can’t bring devastation to Mac, or even to his family.
I don’t know how I’ll get out of the ultimatum my father’s given to me, but I know I have to find a way.
There has to be a way.
I hear Bram Cowen’s voice rising and falling, and a softer, feminine voice trying to calm him. Flora?
I freeze. I don’t want to eavesdrop per se, but I also don’t want to miss an opportunity to hear something I need to. I listen, feeling so guilty I almost wish Mac will come and find me. That he’ll catch me red-handed. That he’ll punish me for what I’m planning to do.
Why do I sort of wish he would?
“She isn’t here casually, Flora,” he mutters, then his voice trails off into Gaelic. I can’t understand much of what he’s saying, but I do hear one phrase loud and clear.
Spiaire salach.
My blood runs cold, and I shiver.
Filthy spy.
“Nay, Bram, you must listen,” Flora says, but I don’t stay around to hear any more. I turn and walk away as quietly as I can, my head bowed low, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
Someone’s watching me. I know it. I can feel it.
I look to the left and right, but see no one. I’m skilled enough at finding hidden cameras. Anyone who grew up around my father has that skill, anyway. I see no camera on the stairwell, but there’s one by the front door and several on the floor below us as well.
I walk down the stairs, heading out to see Mac, when I see someone scurrying into another room. Blast it, it’s the same girl I caught up here. What on earth is she doing?
I open the door and head out, shivering when a quick wind makes the leaves by my feet swirl past.
I hate this duplicity. Hate it. I want to believe that Mac’s sincere. I want to believe that the feelings we have for each other aren’t make-believe. But I’ve only just met him. How can this be anything more than infatuation?