Chapter Eighteen

Evie spent the duration of the evening poring over the peer-reviewed journal databases for any information about the other Alexander Carlisle and his bride, Elizabeth Meyner. He was a source of very little academic inquiry, his name appearing more in passing than in any sort of subject matter. She found herself feeling almost a bit sorry for the youngest son of the duke; great detail was put into the study of his father, and yet his life was relegated to two or three lines in any given text. Even his wife received a few more passing nods, though the only primary sources of her life were the journals of her husband. Evie half-wondered if he had made her up, some sort of mid-eighteenth century pre-internet trolling.

The journals were a part of the university’s rare books collection. She requested access to them, knowing the appointment would include hours down in the dark basement rooms, her hands covered in white cloth gloves, likely learning nothing she didn’t already know.

The great hulking palace that had once been the family seat of the Carlisles was torn down in the early twentieth century, so she wouldn’t be visiting it for any additional digging. One of the crown jewels of Europe, and all that was left were the sprawling parklands. She sat scowling at the screen as she realized the first act of her plan was shot to hell.

“Are you going to growl at that thing all day?” Sarah lounged on the sofa, her socked feet rocking to the beat of the music playing from her phone.

“No. Yes.” Evie tapped her fingers on the mouse pad. “Can I borrow your car?”

“Are you going to drive it into the side of a lorry?”

Evie rolled her eyes toward her friend and pursed her lips. “The thought did cross my mind,” she mused wryly. “But no, I need to take a trip to Loch Tay and I like my consciousness, thank you very much.”

“Why would you go all the way out there?” Sarah wrinkled her nose as her lips pulled back into a disgusted grimace.

She had made her preference for the city life very well known during their time living together. While Evie was ready to give up her creature comforts for short bursts of time, Sarah wouldn’t even consider visiting the country. “What for?” she had muttered once when Evie had invited her to see Dunnottar Castle near Aberdeen. “I can see pictures on the web any time.”

“I don’t know,” Evie grumbled. “Chasing ghosts.”

“Ooh, well, in that case, you are more than welcome to it. It desperately needs petrol, though, so don’t get any ideas about not filling it up.”

The car was more for show than anything else, Evie suspected. It was used biweekly for clubbing in Dundee, but little else.

Evie rolled her eyes. “Want to come with me?”

“To Tay? Not on your life.”

“There’s supposed to be some snow. I’ll buy lunch?”

Sarah snorted. “I fully intend to be hung over all weekend. Especially if there is snow.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Why don’t you just wait a week? Go later.”

“Because the money in my Bank of Scotland account is already dwindling.”

“And you can’t ask Mummy and Daddy for an advance?”

Evie faked a dramatic eye-roll. “They don’t exactly know I’m here.”

Sarah shot up, her wild curls bouncing around her like a dark cloud. “Where do they think you are?”

“Asleep in my bed?” Evie muttered to herself, but then said more clearly, “Visiting my sister?”

“And your sister won’t let that slip?” She made a face that told Evie Sarah thought she wasn’t terribly bright.

Evie shrugged. “I’ll deal with it later.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and flopped back onto the pillows. “Wanna hit up the pub tonight?”

Evie shook her head and suppressed a yawn. “I’m surprised I made it this late.”

She shot a glance at the clock on the computer screen. It was just past six. Dark outside for hours, already, the winter nights were long on the shores of Scotland. And the last time she slept had been for a few hours on the plane, cramped up in a window seat near the lavatories, her head resting on her curled arms atop the tray table. Just the thought of it had her rubbing her eyes, which were dry and burning ever so slightly.

“Could you make sure I am up when you get up?”

“Sure,” Sarah said, the frown entering her tone of voice.

Evie waved goodnight to Sarah and yawned, her bare feet slapping on the wood as she slunk into her room. It was much the same as she had left it, minus many of her personal items. The bed was unmade, her sheets and quilt folded neatly on the foot of the mattress; courtesy of Laena, probably.

Rather than making the bed, she kicked off her jeans, pulled her bra off through one sleeve, and threw open the quilt, wrapping it around herself as she fell onto the bed. She didn’t even bother hunting down a pillow, the absence of one only entering her mind moments before she had drifted off to sleep.

****

She dreamed of golden fields. Of tall grasses skimming her hips, waving like the sea, autumn winds flirting with the heads as they bowed and danced. A heavy sun hung low in a clear sky, casting shadow and flaxen light across the vastness of the lands. Twenty yards ahead was the man in the hood; he moved with the fluid grace and ease of a stag. Between them was a soft female figure, her hair like fire in the sunlight, a riot of curls falling wild over her shoulders.

Sweat dripped down Evie’s back, a trickle worming its way from somewhere between her shoulder blades all the way down to the waistband of her breeches. She itched to wipe it away, to splash the dirt and sweat and grime from her flesh. To soothe away the ache of her feet.

But the breeze felt lovely, cooling the glistening tracks framing her sun-kissed face, running over her jaw, dipping into the collar of her tunic.

She ran a gloved hand over the swaying grasses, her fingertips scattering tufts of fuzz into the air. She looked down at her hand, at the leather vambrace crisscrossing her wrists and forearm, noting the intricate details there. Three twisting circles, a triangle between them.

And when she glanced back up, the woman between her and their leader had vanished, and instead, there was another there. At first she thought Alec had joined them, but his silhouette was all wrong. He was tall, but with the shape of a gymnast, not Alec’s lithe swimmer’s body. His arms were left bare, toned with muscle, well-sculpted, shoulders straight. A tattoo ran down his biceps, under the leather jerkin covering his back. The blue ink stood in sharp contrast to his sun-kissed skin. He turned, as if to make sure she was there, a mischievous smile splitting his bronzed face, and black hair flopping across his brow.

Calum.

****

Evie shuddered awake, dragging in air as if she had stopped breathing, filling her lungs.

She hadn’t dreamed of Calum since before Evan showed up at her parents’ with a bottle of mustard. And then, they were nothing more than snippets, usually the memory of him at St. Rule’s tower, looking up at her, the sun shining in his face.

He had looked so happy, as if the joy he felt would consume him. As if he would never be happier. As if she had given him the greatest gift in the world.

She snuggled back down into the quilt and wondered if he would still feel that way now. After knowing how easily she had given herself to someone else.