Chapter Ten
Kirk
I drive Gretchen back to her flat and leave her at the front door without speaking a word.
She doesn't speak either. The lass clearly realizes I have other, more serious matters on my mind.
So I kiss her cheek and offer a half-mumbled goodbye.
Then I'm away. Though I glance back, hoping to catch one last glimpse of her, my hopes are dashed when she slips into her flat, shutting the door with barely a hint of a sound.
I do sleep that night, but only after long hours of tossing and turning, worrying about the veiled threat Dougal issued.
The next morning, I wake up feeling as if I spent the entire night boozing in a smoke-filled club.
But I did no such thing. After a quick breakfast, I head for the Loch Fairbairn Arms to find Gretchen.
The hotel is hardly a dump, as my American friends would say.
It's quite nice, though I've never roomed there.
Everyone I know gives the hotel five stars.
As I race into the building, I discover that Gretchen's not at the front desk or in the breakfast area that I can just see out of the corner of my eye. I freeze, unsure of what to do now.
Fortunately, Mrs. Agnew notices me. "You're looking for Miss Carver, aye?"
"That's right. Have ye seen her?"
"Oh aye." Mrs. Agnew smiles, making her cheeks dimpling. "I know where you can find her."
"And that would be...where?"
She taps her chin and puckers her lips. "Not sure if I should share the information though. The way you've treated that lass. It's almost criminal."
"Bod an Donais. Can ye just tell me where she is?" My growling tone probably didn't do me any favors. But I cannae help it.
Mrs. Agnew clucks her tongue and wags a finger at me. "Do not use foul language in my hotel, dearie."
"Mhac na galla."
She shuts her eyes briefly, then aims a disapproving look at me. "Kirk Balfour, I have never heard ye speak so crudely in front of a lady. Ah, well. I give up." She waves toward the eastern hallway. "She's up on the rooftop terrace."
"On the roof? She might fall."
Mrs. Agnew smirks. "You're worried about her falling? I reckon you think the lass is accident-prone then. Aye?"
"Ah, no. But---never mind, I'll find her."
Gretchen strikes me as braver than most lasses and indisputably no wilting flower.
But my attraction to her comes from more than her beauty and fire.
If I were a betting man, I'd put a hundred pounds on her standing within an arm's reach of the terrace edge, strictly to feel the world tilt around her.
She wasn't this bold when we first met. But aye, she's become a spitfire.
I race up the stairs, emerging from the rooftop into the bright morning sun.
Tables with terracotta tops are positioned round the whole area, and I note half of them are already taken by tourists and locals.
I find Gretchen quickly, peering over the heads of blondes, brunettes, and also gray-haired gents and ladies.
Families and couples alike are enjoying the breathtaking view and the excellent food.
Gretchen sits alone at a table in the nearest corner with a mug cradled in both hands.
She roams her gaze over the panoramic sweep of the high mountains and lower rolling hills.
Her hair is knotted up, and several strands have blown loose, gently teasing her face in the morning breeze.
She wears a pair of big sunglasses perched on her nose that sport brightly colored rims with multiple patterns.
It's obvious, at least to me, that she's hiding not from the sun but from but the world.
I approach her cautiously so I won't startle the lass, but she still senses me. Before I'm within three paces, she announces, "Morning, Kirk."
Her words are kind, almost affectionate. But her mouth remains hidden behind the mug.
I gesture to the chair beside her. "May I sit?"
She shrugs. "Whatever."
Not quite the greeting I'd hoped for, but I'll work with what she's given me. So, I settle my erse on the chair beside her. "Mrs. Agnew told me you'd be here."
"Hmm, she is kinda nosy. I like her anyway, though." Gretchen tilts the sunglasses down, eyeing me over the top of the frames. "I figured you'd be busy dealing with...whatever it is stunt men do when they're not in the process of dragging hapless Americans into the mountains at night."
A wry smile ghosts across her lips, then quickly evaporates.
"I'm not busy with stunts this morning," I assure her. "Not unless you're planning to base jump off this roof."
She blows gently on the coffee in her cup and takes a sip. "I'll pass. But if I ever suffer the urge to plummet to my death, you'll be the first person I call."
We sit here in silence for a moment. It isn't uncomfortable but not cozy either. In the morning light, I study her hands and her slender but strong fingers. I almost miss the faint tremor she tries to hide. Something in my chest aches, and I realize it must be guilt clawing at me.
"I'm sorry about last night, Gretchen." The words felt strange as I spoke them, but I cannae be nervous. No, that's rubbish.
Gretchen lowers her mug just enough for me to see the angle of her jaw. "Sorry for what? Kicking me out after we had sex, or for dragging me into your midnight Highland Game of Thrones?"
"Dougal will never harass you again. You have my word."
She squints at me as if she's trying to seem dangerous, but the lass cannae accomplish it.
She's too kind and sweet. "I have no idea whether I can trust anything you've said.
I mean, you did ditch me seconds after we screwed.
And now, you're turning on the charm. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't knee you in the balls and walk away. "
I instinctively adjust my crotch. Why so many blokes like me do that after a woman uses the word balls, I can't explain. But I reckon it's ingrained in our primal instincts. "Give me another chance, Gretchen. Please, I'm begging ye."
She twists her lips into the oddest expression, moving her lips from side to side. Then she blows out a sigh. "Okay, fine. I'm a sap of the highest order, so I'll listen to whatever bullshit you want to spout."
"Thank you." Well, least she's talking to me, even if a curse word wasn't what I'd hoped for.
She stares at me until I begin to fidget in my seat, then she sighs. "All right, go ahead. Lay it on me. If you can out-weird yesterday, I'll buy your breakfast for the next week."
I try to stare deeply into her eyes, but the sunglasses mask them. I sense she's bracing for some epic tale, the kind that ends with bodies floating in a loch or an arrest record in three countries. I almost laugh, because compared to that, my story is tame.
But it's not easy to reveal aloud.
"Dougal and I, we grew up in vastly different worlds.
For most of our lives, we've disliked each other, but not enough to say we were enemies.
Honestly, I never thought about him at all, and if I saw him on the street, I paid him no mind.
Still, I'd heard the rumors about his shady activities.
" How should I explain the rest? It sounds like Hollywood rubbish, but I'll do my best. "Then a year ago, a mate of mine, a young laddie who was only seventeen years old, got into serious trouble at an underground nightclub owned by Dougal MacWraith. "
Gretchen leans toward me, her lips no more than a hair's breadth from mine. She seems enthralled by the story, not by my proximity.
"I had no idea what went on in Dougal's organization," I tell her. "Kenny MacDonald was desperate to impress a girl and ended up owing money to MacWraith. Nobody would listen to him until he'd gotten in so deep that he was scared for his life."
"The poor kid." She gazes into my eyes as if she's already guessed the rest of my tale. "Is Kenny the one Dougal was talking about?"
"Aye, he is." I hesitate, because I can virtually hear the gears in Gretchen's mind working, as if she's empathizing with this laddie despite never having met him.
"That was when Dougal swooped in and paid off the debt.
Not because he's a charitable sort, mind you.
He wanted leverage against both of us. From that day on, he held a marker over my head. "
Gretchen lowers her mug. Her lips turn down at the corners, and for the first time since I sat my erse down on this chair, she's truly looking at me. "Dougal blackmailed you."
"No, not blackmail. Dougal swore he'd cash in my debt at the appropriate time.
" I shut my eyes but then force myself to look directly at her.
"I assumed Kenny's debt and became Dougal's personal errand-boy, but it was more than that.
He used my job to coerce me into doing stunts for his entertainment. The more hazardous, the better."