Page 21 of Savage Blooms
“Finley didn’t do anything,” Nicola replied, bristling. “I saw something weird out there. I’m telling the truth.”
Eileen watched a flicker of uncertainty cross Adam’s face. It was only a moment of weakness, the tiniest chink in his armor, but she rushed in to exploit it.
“I’m not asking you to take me at my word,” she said. “I can show you something real. Something that will make you understand that Nicola isn’t lying to you, and neither am I. Not about this place, and not about your grandfather’s stories.”
Adam gave her a wary look, stock-still where he stood. He refused to speak, just weighing her with his gaze.
“Come with me, and I’ll tell you everything,” Eileen lied.
“And why would you do that?” Adam asked.
“Why do men hunt grouse? My reasons are my own. And maybe I’m only trying to help you, Adam Lancaster.”
“You’re serious about this?” Adam asked Nicola. This wasn’t about Eileen any more, she saw that clearly. Whatever happened next, Adam would only do with Nicola’s blessing, and for Nicola’s sake.
“As a heart attack,” Nicola said. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. It almost felt like…”
“Magic,” Finley supplied, with that succinct no-nonsense air that made arguing with him impossible. His timing couldn’t have been better. Eileen could have kissed him.
Adam looked at Eileen for another long moment, and Eileen wondered if she had misjudged him. He wasn’t receptive and he wasn’t ready: this would be the final straw for him and he would undoubtedly be on the next flight home, leaving Eileen to her loneliness and her ruin.
But, miraculously, Adam surprised her.
“If I follow you, where are we going?”
“To the cave,” Eileen breathed, for once in her life not lying, not even obfuscating the truth. “That’s where it all starts, and that’s where it all ends.”
Adam glanced at Nicola, who was lit up brighter than a Roman candle at the promise of some sort of supernatural experience, or maybe even just a good story. She had mentioned last night that she enjoyed folklore, and now Eileen saw that it wasn’t just a pastime, it was a passion.
In the end, Adam conceded, perhaps more for Nicola than for himself.
“Wherever we’re going,” he said, “I want to be back here loading up the car in an hour.”
“Done,” Eileen said, euphoric with triumph.
“Wait here for me, will you?” Adam asked. “I need my coat and shoes.”
“I’ll come with you,” Nicola said, and scurried up the stairs behind him, no doubt ready to spill all her theories about what she had seen out there on the grounds, or perhaps her theories about Eileen and Finley. Eileen didn’t really care which. As long as it kept Adam curious enough to stay just a little while longer, she was happy.
In the Americans’ absence, Finley stepped right up to Eileen, grasped her chin in his hand, and tilted her face up. He held her tightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to ground her in the seriousness of the moment.
“Are you sure about this, Isla?” Finley asked.
He had asked her this countless times before. Her answer was always the same.
“Absolutely.”
“There’s still time to call it off and send them home. There’s got to be some other way to fix this that doesn’t involve taking advantage of innocent people.”
Eileen snorted, tossing her head like an unruly mare. Finley held her tighter, forcing her to look at him. Now it did hurt, that clarifying sort of hurt that helped her think clearly. He wouldn’t leave a mark; he knew the precise amount of pressure it took to bruise her skin.
“No one is innocent, Finney,” she said. “Not even doe-eyed tourists. And don’t act like you didn’t play your part in this. I’ve got to give it to you: leading them here from the pub was quite the feat.”
“I didn’t know them then. I was only doing what you asked.”
“And you don’t know them now. They’re as foreign to us as we are to them, and I’ll caution you not to trust anything either of them says. All human beings serve their own ends, when it comes right down to it.”
“There’s got to be a different way to handle this. We can go back to the drawing board, we can do more research—”
