The path was moist with morning dew as they made their way back to the river. The cold gave Jordan an excuse to keep her hands deep in her pockets. And the slow pace would help keep the Scot from working up a sweat.
His shirt must have been starched like crazy to still be so clean after sleeping in it. Along with his freshly pleated kilt, he looked just as perfect as he had the day before, and she intended to keep him that way.
The tension between them was as intense as ever after their little “agree to disagree” truce over breakfast, but the line in the sand was clear. He planned to get personal. She would stay professional. And let the best man/woman win.
Of course, he didn’t know who he was dealing with.
Though she was tempted to stop and take a few shots of him at the tunnel, she kept moving. The light on the bridge would be much better than the evening before, and she wanted to take full advantage.
Having someone else carry her gear was a welcome change. When they were about twenty feet from the center of the structure, she chose a spot to pile everything. She unfolded her tripod and started setting up and told Kerry he was free to wander around for a few minutes. While he thought she was just tinkering, she took shots of him on the sly.
She couldn’t resist a quick pic of his butt when he leaned over the far side to look down at the water. Then a close up of his boots and stockings when she realized he had a little black knife handle tucked against his calf. If she’d had an assistant, she would have had them hurry over to untie one of the laces, but if she asked Kerry to do it, she would lose the composition.
It was no use. She knew the shot would be great, so she had to do it herself.
“Hold really still, Kerry, would you?”
“Aye, lass,” he said over the rush of the river.
She hurried to his side, untied his lace, and said again, “don’t move,” while she flipped the cords around a few times, so they would land more artistically. “That’s it. Hold it right there.” She backed up and took the shot. Then she zoomed out and shot his entire body again.
So put together on top. So careless on the bottom. She couldn’t wait to download them later!
“Thank you. You can relax now.”
“I am relaxed, lassie.” He turned around and rested his arms on the wall out to his sides, then crossed his feet while he stared at her, looking her over the way she looked at him.
“Very funny,” she said, then started flipping through the shots she’d just taken.
“Thank ye, lass. Ye can relax now.”
“I’m just fine, thanks.” She turned off the previewer, unable to concentrate with him watching her so close. She clicked off another half dozen shots of him looking as sexy as hell, then she pointed at the riverbank below. “I’m going to climb down there and take some up-shots.”
From beside the bridge, next to the water’s edge, she got some images of his torso with the two stone arches below him. Looking off into the distance, he could have passed for a Jacobite scout watching for the enemy. It was easily a historical-looking shot that might really pay off for her, even if F&F weren’t interested.
When she got back onto the bridge, she found Kerry talking to a little boy trying to show him something on a cell phone screen. His mother stood close, smiling from ear to ear, holding the leash of a little dog.
With a nod of assurance from Kerry, the mother agreed to sign a waiver. Jordan then took more shots of the little boy and his dog sitting on the wall beside the Scotsman, the boy pointing to the screen like he was showing the big man how to use the technology. It was a darling pose, Rockwellian even, with the river in the background.
After the little family was gone, Jordan sat her camera down and took a break. Leaning back against the wall of rock, she closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face. A shadow stole the warmth from the shoulder of her coat, then she heated right up again when she sensed how close Kerry was.
“What are you doing, Mr. Mather?”
“Just relaxin’, lass. Doin’ what I’m told.”
She opened one eye and found him staring at her again, with one elbow on the wall beside her. “Don’t you kiss me.”
“Perish the thought, Miss Lennox. I understand the wisdom of business before pleasure. I can wait.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but the flat of his fingers pressed against her lips.
“Wheesht, lass. I ken ye well enough to know just what ye meant to say. So save yer breath to cool yer porridge, aye?” He dragged his fingers away but didn’t back up.
She bit her lip to keep from saying something she might regret and turned her face up to the sun again, to prove he hadn’t rattled her. Since they’d arrived at the bridge, she’d been able to see him as just another model, just another subject on the other side of the lens. But how long could that last?
What she needed was more breathing space between them.
“So. Kerry.” Go ahead, let him think we’re chummy. “Tell me more about Brigadoon.”
Kerry stared at her lips for another second or two, then turned away from her until his back was against the wall once again. “Ye might have thought Brigadoon was just a movie, or a musical, but did ye ken that Brigadoon is based on a real legend here in Scotland? Somewhere, in the Highlands, is the village in question. After the Battle of Culloden, when the Hanoverians chased the Highlanders home, burning and pillaging along their way, and with the king’s blessing…
“The priest made a pact with the Wee Folk, promising whatever was asked if the town could but disappear into the mist, so the government soldiers would pass them by. And to this day, the place can only be seen by mortal eyes once a year, on Enchantment Day.”
“Enchantment Day? I never heard this.”
“Auch, aye. ‘Tis a great day of celebration where anyone is welcome to join the party. But when the day is done, the mist hides it again, for another hundred years.”
“So, they’re not just sleeping for a hundred years?”
“Nay. They go on as any other village, but they canna leave.”
Feeling herself getting sucked in by the romance of it all, she leaned away from him and narrowed her eyes. “But in your version, you have two Enchantment Days?”
“Just so. My fellows and I are given a pair of days.”
“Your fellows? How many people are in Brigadoon 2.0?”
“Nine and seventy.”
What bothered her most about his little fairy tale was that he actually appeared to be telling the truth. The guy would make a great actor—if he weren’t going away…
“And tomorrow, you’ve got to go back into the mist.”
“Aye. One last day and no more.” He winked at her, above a sad smile. Then suddenly, he bobbed his dark eyebrows and laughed. “So ye’d best make it memorable, Jordan, love. Give me a day that will last me another hundred years.”
“Oh, I plan to.”
He seemed genuinely surprised. “Truly?”
“Yup. Tonight, we’re going to my new favorite place for dinner.”
“Oh? I thought ye’d never been to Brechin before.”
“I haven’t. But I saw a flier today. And we’re going.”
His eyelids lowered. “I smell the proverbial rat.”
“Oh, don’t worry. You’re going to love it. And you’ll remember it, too.” She chuckled. “Don’t let me forget to charge my batteries. You know, just in case.”