At midafternoon, the pair of them sat still and quiet on Brechin Bridge, absorbing the warmth of the sun as if they were just two more stones in the ancient structure. Just sitting near the lass was pleasant enough, but Kerry was reminded of the solitude of Culloden and broke his silence.
He suggested that, since they’d missed their picnic for luncheon, they would have one the next day. It was the simplest way to ensure they spent another day together. And a good thing, too. The minx might believe she was fooling him, but he could tell she was determined not to become personally involved with him.
And the longer they were together, the more he was sure that softening Jordan Lennox’s lonely heart was the deed he’d been sent to accomplish from the start.
“A farewell picnic,” she said with a nod, hopped off the wall, and dusted her hands. “Before the mist comes to claim you.”
Kerry sighed inwardly. The lass didn’t know just how close to the mark she’d hit. “Just dinnae be surprised, love, if the mist happens to be green.”
She gave him a curious look and shook her head as she often did when he said something she didn’t understand, or when his brogue was so thick she couldn’t pick out the words. Or perhaps, she’d noted his endearment and thought by shaking her head she could erase it.
Kerry pushed off the wall, stood, and stretched. “Ye will miss me once I’m gone, lass. I vow it.”
She laughed. “I promise not to get too attached, you know, since you have to return to Brigadoon tomorrow. Are you sure we’ll have time for lunch?”
“As soon as the sun is up, I can promise nothing. But we shall hope.”
She laughed again, and though it thrilled him to have brought her joy, he was beginning to regret the Brigadoon tale. He had to admit, however, it was the best way to prepare her for a sudden disappearance. Letting the truth sink in would take a while, but the miniscule chance he might be spirited away by some form of magic might help her make heads and tails of it later.
Until then, he had some serious wooing to do.
He was reminded of a saying he suddenly felt inspired to heed—absence makes the heart grow fonder. And though it pained him to waste any time with her, he considered it worth experimenting.
“If ye’ll forgive me, Jordan, I have a bit of business to see to this afternoon. Perhaps we should choose a time to meet at this restaurant?”
She was instantly suspicious. “Oh, come on. Don’t be a chicken. I promise you’ll have a good time. And if you don’t, I’ll owe you a…” She licked her lips, obviously thinking of their first kiss, but she fell short of admitting it.
“A boon?”
“Yeah. That’s it. I’ll owe you a boon if you don’t have a good time tonight.”
“Done and done, lass. But I must leave ye for the present. Shall I drop yer things off at yer apartment, then? I remember the code to rescue the key from the wee box.”
“Yeah. Uh… I’ll just keep my camera and the small bag. We’ll meet at Bridgend Bar, 7:00?”
“I shall be there.”
“You’ll see it on the right, as you head back.”
He nodded and quickly gathered the rest of her equipment. It was hardly fair to make her lug it up the hill. Besides, he had nothing better to do with his time…
~ ~ ~
For the first time since she’d checked into her rental apartment and gone chasing a ghost, Jordan was alone in Brechin.
She lifted her camera to her eye and started shooting the receding figure of the Highland Blacksmith, telling herself she was watching for a good shot, not waiting to see if he would look back. He hadn’t looked back when he ditched her at the restaurant the night before, but he’d been playing her, then.
“So, if he doesn’t look back now,” she whispered, “I’ll know he’s just playing me again.”
He obviously didn’t expect her to run after him again. So what was his game?
Just then, Kerry stepped sideways, then turned to face her, walking backward as he smiled and waved at her with the fingers of the hand holding straps to his shoulder.
She lowered the camera and waved back. Just a few fingers. Then she turned and aimed her camera in a different direction. She counted to ten and looked up the rise. He was still walking backward, waiting to catch her attention again. She could almost hear him laughing when he finally disappeared around the bend.
And I’m only grinning because he’s so silly…
Jordan scanned the far end of the bridge, turned and looked in all directions, but it was no use. Nothing caught her eye. Nothing worth shooting…without a tall handsome blacksmith in the foreground.
“He’s playing me,” she said, tucking her camera in the pack then heading up the hill. “I know he’s playing me. I just don’t know what to do about it.”
In her mind’s eye, she watched him walking up the hill in front of her, walking like a man who had somewhere to go. But if he were from Brigadoon, he shouldn’t really have business to do in Brechin, should he?
Nonsense. Unprofessional nonsense. And if she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself buying into something much more disturbing than an old Scottish myth—She’d start acting like her mother, blind to everything but one boring man.
“Brilliant, if I do say it myself.”
Kerry felt light as a feather as he hiked up the rest of the rise, back to the center of town. Ten seconds was all she could stand before she’d looked for him again. Ten seconds. He’d counted. Then ten seconds again.
A tune from the Brigadoon musical meandered through his head and he had to agree. It was almost like being in love. In fact, if he knew how to dance like Gene Kelly, he might have given the locals a bit of entertainment as he emerged from the other end of the tunnel.
As he neared the wee park, however, he realized the joke was on him. Jordan wasn’t the only one alone now.
With only a day left of his mortality, he’d chosen to waste hours that could have been spent with her.
He shook his head vigorously. No. It had been the right thing to do. What did a few hours mean when it might help her learn that attachment was a good thing, that she should be happy for her mother. That relationships should be sought out, not avoided.
A dark thought splashed into the pit of his belly like soured whiskey—
If he succeeded in winning her affection—not just having piqued her interest, but truly engaging her heart? Would a broken heart not reinforce what she already believed?
“Oh, dear Lord. What have I done?”