Page 8 of Love Beyond Words
“Anything. What is it?”
“If all this does indeed turn out to be true…if the woman is some centuries old witch who travels through time, just give me a call and let me know before you go hurtling through to the past.”
I laughed and pulled back assuming she was joking, but there was no humor in her eyes as I stared back at her.
“You don’t actually believe that it could be possible, do you?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t any idea, Laurel, but isn’t it more fun to live in a world where it just might be? Most of what any of us believe about the world is delusional anyway. We might as well believe in delusions that make us smile. The thought of you getting to travel back and get a glimpse of all those wonderful things you write about makes me smile. So…like I said, if it is real, just promise you’ll call me.”
It was the most ridiculous promise I’d ever made, but I couldn’t deny my little sister anything.
“Okay. I promise to call you before I allow a witch to send me into the past.”
She smiled as Mr. Crinkles crawled into her lap.
“Good. I can’t wait to get that phone call.”
Chapter 5
Over the Atlantic Ocean
* * *
The downside of our last-minute flights—besides the exorbitant price that Marcus paid for them—was that we were unable to sit together for the journey. Sandwiched in the middle section, in a middle seat, it was the longest and most miserable travel experience of my life.
The woman to my right smelled of dust bunnies and cheese, and the man to my left liked to spit when he talked. He really liked talking. He was a native Scot, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen anyone as excited to get home.
“I tell ye, lass, eight weeks is far too long to be away from yer own bed and yer own coffee maker. America is fine in most respects, but none of ye know how to make a proper cup of coffee, and yer breakfasts are terrible. I doona want cereal in skim milk for breakfast. Or worse, a couple of soggy waffles from the hotel buffet. Give me meat and eggs or nothing at all.”
I wasn’t in an appeasing mood.
“I quite like cereal with skim milk.”
The man, who’d yet to introduce himself, threw up both hands to cover his heart, accidentally elbowing me in the side of my arm hard enough to make me wince.
“Ach, doona wound me so. I thought ye were a lass with better taste.”
“Nope. I’m afraid I have very bad taste indeed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I better try to get some sleep. I’ve got quite a long car drive once we land.”
It was the absolute wrong thing to say. It gave him the perfect opening to question me.
“Oh, is that so? Whereabouts are ye headed? I know Scotland like the back of my hand. I could tell ye some bonny places to stop along the way.”
I could hardly say anything to him about the inn, so I decided to stick to the closest thing to it.
“Conall Castle, actually. I’ve always wanted to see it.”
This man didn’t need to know that I’d visited before.
“Ach, aye, ’tis a lovely castle. There is actually not much to stop and see along yer way there, though the drive is quite beautiful. Where else in Scotland are ye planning to go?”
“The Isle of Eight Lairds.”
“Best be careful over there, lass. ’Tis cursed land. Only a few still reside there.”
I’d heard this much from the documentary I’d watched with Kate, but I was fairly certain the castle was still open to visitors, and there was a ferry that went out to the isle twice a day.
“I don’t believe in curses. Besides, wasn’t the original curse from the legend broken at some point? It must have been for the land to have been ruled by one laird at a time rather than eight for the last four hundred years.”
