Chapter Nine
Gretchen
In the almost total darkness, I can sense more than see the figure hiding within the shadows.
I only noticed it because of the way Kirk tilted his head the tiniest bit, and I followed his line of sight.
A single shaft of light breaks through the clouds.
The human shadow is barely perceptible and provides the only clue that someone's there.
Yeah, I'm pretty sure that is the figure of a man because the shape is moving closer.
The moon is just coming up, offering barely enough light to convince me I'm not hallucinating this encounter.
Kirk wraps an arm around my shoulders, holding me close. "What are ye doing out here in the dark, Dougal?"
"Stalking you, of course." The voice is unfamiliar to me. When he tips his head to one side, I get the impression he's studying me, though I still can't make out his features. "Are ye abducting the lass? Or protecting her from me?"
"Shut yer bloody mouth, MacWraith." Kirk's jaw has tightened so much that I expect to hear a grinding noise emanating from it. "Tell me why you're stalking the slopes of this mountain."
"Like I said, I'm stalking you---and your lass."
"Because..."
Dougal shrugs, his silhouette thin and sharp against the backdrop of the clearing sky.
"Because, when Kirk Balfour brings a lovely Yank into the wilds, the talk of the village is deafening.
" He cocks his head, eyeing me with a feral grin that makes me move closer to Kirk.
"Word spreads, Balfour. Secrets are short-lived on the tongue of a Highlander, and I had tae see for myself if the rumors were true. "
"Bi sàmhach," Kirk snarls. "I'll be quiet when I bloody feel like it."
Dougal's gaze follows me, and a shudder slithers down my spine.
Half curiosity, half that prickling fear you get when you know the monster under the bed might actually be real.
Kirk tenses beside me, his muscles like iron bands in his arms. If this turns into a Highland showdown, I'm not entirely sure who might win, because Dougal seems like the type who would latch onto your neck and never let go until you die.
I lift my chin, determined to show no fear despite being terrified. "It's not really abduction if I follow Kirk willingly, you know."
Dougal squints at me, seeming like he's processing my words. Then he lets loose a bark of laughter so sharp that I swear it slices through the evening air like a sword. "Spirited, aren't ye? Balfour always did like the cheeky sorts."
Kirk's thumb sweeps slow, protective circles against my shoulder. "We've no more time for your games. Out with it. What do ye want at this late hour?"
Dougal steps out of the shadows, exposing his face at last. The line of his mouth is too knowing and too sly, as if he's always three moves ahead and just waiting for us to blunder into his net. "It's funny, Balfour. I heard you were leaving the Highlands again, but here you are with a lass."
I carefully stop myself from shrinking away from this evil reptile.
Dougal sneers at Kirk, then at me, as if he's counting heartbeats until he kills us both. "What's worth coming home for, Kirk? Is it the whisky, or is it the women?"
Kirk's grip tightens, and I wonder if this is going to turn into a brutal clash. "That's none of your concern, MacWraith. Go home. Or go haunt the Cross Keys, if you're after a dram and an audience for your shite stories."
"Come now," Dougal says while advancing on us with every, step careful and measured.
It's too obvious what he's after, even before he opens his mouth again.
"I'd have thought the stuntman game might have worn you down by now, Balfour, but it's only sharpened your skills, I imagine.
Yer like a wolf with a fresh bone. So, what's this lovely lady's name? "
Kirk says nothing and simply glowers harder. I'm starting to appreciate his commitment to the intimidation game.
As Dougal walks toward us, his steps are methodical, with no rustle of dead leaves beneath those boots. "You know as well as I do that the clock runs only forward. The old debts stay on the books, Kirk---even if you run off to America and change your name."
Kirk goes very still, his breaths puffing white in the chilly air.
His jaw has tensed up too, like a caged animal waiting for his chance to pounce.
"Aye, well, the old debts can rot in the earth, Dougal, for all I care.
I have work to do. And I neither want nor need you breathing down my neck while I do it. "
The creep's smirk becomes a sneer. "Ye've always needed me, Balfour. Even when you hated to admit it." He tips his head at me. "Does the lass know what you've done for that laddie? And how much you still owe me on his behalf?"
Kirk's silence is louder than if he'd screamed.
I clear my throat. "Um, what are you talking about?"
The moon emerges from the haze again, though it dissipates quickly, outlining us all in a silvered, spectral glow.
Kirk's refusal to speak is an answer in itself, the kind of silence that makes my mouth go dry.
I examine Kirk's face---his stony profile, the furious set of his jaw---and damn if I don't feel a chill.
This isn't simply the usual male posturing.
I sense real bad blood here, the kind that sours every room and poisons every memory.
Dougal is clearly delighted by my confusion. He pivots to face me directly now, and the look in his eyes is---well, it's cocky, but more than that. I get the impression I'm being measured, maybe even weighed against some invisible scale.
"Has Kirk never told you, then?" Dougal asks, his voice is as smooth as a glass of Kentucky bourbon that's been aged for ten years or so. "Ah well, I'm fair certain you'll find out eventually."
I itching know what he meant by that remark, but I have more important things to worry about right now.
The night air seems to close in around us, despite the lack of fog.
Kirk's nostrils flare, his pulse jumping along his neck, and that's when I realize that whatever Dougal's dredging up isn't just old drama, it's today's business.
"What's really going on here?" I whisper in Kirk's ear.
"Och, Dougal's got a tongue like a poisoned dart," Kirk hisses in my ear. He stares at Dougal, not me. "The only fate at risk was your pride, ye cretin."
Despite what Kirk said, I can't help feeling that this grudge is way more personal than I initially thought. It's the kind that makes you want to check your back for the nearest solid wall.
"Still, I won," Dougal replies coolly. "And your mate still owes me---just like you do, Balfour."
The creep's gaze narrows even more, as if he's calculating numbers in his head, and a slow smile inches across his face. "I havenae come empty-handed, Kirk. Ye can't escape our arrangement."
What arrangement? I stare at Kirk, but he hasn't so much as breathed since Dougal last spoke. Now he flicks his gaze to me, almost pleading, like he's sorry for dragging me into this late-night Highland pissing contest.
"What does he mean, Kirk?" I ask, keeping my voice hushed.
"Nothing." He shrugs off whatever's happening here. "It's shite and bluster. Ignore him."
But Dougal only laughs, the sound low and predatory. "Ye didnae warn her? She follows you up a mountain, and you won't even tell her how badly you buggered things last time?"
My anxiety turns into an emotion I'm much better acquainted with---raging. "MacWraith, how about you spill your clever little secret, since you're dying to tell us right?"
"Gladly." Dougal folds his arms over his chest. "Last year, during the Highland Games, Kirk tried to dethrone Clan Buchanan's reigning champion in the Kilted Mile.
And because Balfour blood runs hotter than fresh mash, he bet his motorcycle on it.
What you don't know is that Kirk also wagered something else---a private favor, of my choosing, to be claimed at a time of my choosing. It's due tonight."
Kirk's hand flexes on my shoulder, but the rest of him has turned to granite. "It was a joke, Dougal. Nobody honors a bet made after six rounds of Thane Buchanan's best whisky---Sensual Secret. And you are not taking my bike, if that's what yer thinking."
"Och, you'd be surprised what people remember, especially when the outcome is...lucrative." Dougal chuckles with dark intent. "Which brings us to the reason I'm here. I want the lass."
A sharp bark of laughter tumbles from Kirk's lips. "Yer mad, MacWraith. What in the world would make me do what you suggest?"
The creep chuckles in such a deep, menacing way that every hair on my body shivers erect.
Dougal shifts his attention to me but speaks to Kirk. "It's her or the laddie. Your choice, Balfour. I'll expect your response by 10 a.m. tomorrow."
The evil bastard disappears into the fog that has just reemerged. But as Kirk and I jog after him, we lose track of Dougal. Once we've made our way back down the mountain, I grasp Kirk's arm hard enough to make him wince a smidgen. He opens the car door for me, but I don't step inside.
"What the hell was all that macho bullshit?" I demand. "Are you getting me into something dangerous without my consent?"
He picks me up and drops me onto the passenger seat. "You will never know the answer to that question. Be grateful for that."