“Now that you mention it, I do have a slight headache.” I’d forgotten all about it, thanks to the distraction of our little errand to the Palace of Holyroodhouse.
He stared at my palm. “And you’ve scraped your hand.” Without warning, he kissed my wrist. I almost moaned as my system went to code red. My arm tingled, my heart raced and all the breath in my body got caught in my throat. With my luck, these were the first symptoms of a heart attack.
I eased my hand away and reached for the beer. “I had a little mishap at the library.”
“Define mishap.”
I sighed. “I think someone was trying to kill me.”
“Do tell,” he said calmly, but his eyes were narrowed and his mouth was a thin, grim line.
I took off my jacket and laid it on the seat, then told him the whole story about the genealogy room and the bookshelf falling on me.
“And you didn’t see anyone?” he asked when I’d finished. “Hear anyone?”
“Not really. I heard the door open and shut once, and I heard some scuffing sound, but I brushed it off. The shelves were wood, so they made lots of settling, groaning noises. I chalked the other noises up to that. I never saw anyone.”
“And this bookshelf just toppled? Aren’t they bracketed together or bolted to the floor?”
“As a matter of fact, I checked while I was lying flat on my face, and yes, the shelves were bolted to the floor but not to one another.”
He shook his head, concern etched on his face. “You’re lucky you only turned your ankle.”
“Lucky seems to be my middle name.”
“So you were on your way back from the library when I saw you?” he asked.
Before I could respond, the waitress brought my ploughman’s platter. And okay, yes, it probably was big enough for two, but I knew I would have no problem finishing the whole thing. I made myself a sandwich from two thick slices of bread, some fresh ham, two chunks of cheese, a tomato slice and various condiments.
After savoring a few luscious bites, I finally lost the debate with myself and related the whole story of my improbable kidnappers.
Derek listened with outward patience, then said adamantly, “Let me see the business card.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Did those men frighten you?”
I pursed my lips, considering whether to answer or not, but finally relented. “Yes, they did at first. I was terrified. But after a few minutes of driving around and talking, they seemed more like my three brothers than any thugs I’ve ever seen. They were cute, too.”
Derek frowned and I waved that statement away. “Never mind. Anyway, I realized they just needed to talk.”
“By dragging you off the street and kidnapping you?”
“Well, when you put it like that…” I dabbed my mouth with my napkin. “But I was never in any danger.”
“You didn’t know that,” he said.
“I admit I experienced a minute or two of terror.”
“May I see the card, please?”
“I don’t want to press charges,” I insisted, spreading mayonnaise on another slice of bread. “They made their point and I appreciated it.”
“Fine,” he said, holding out his hand. “But if I need a doctor, I want to know who not to call.”
“Good point.” I would probably regret it, but I pulled the card out of my pocket and handed it to him.
He rubbed his thumb against the grain. “Good quality,” he mused.
“I thought the same thing.”
“Yes, you would,” he said absently. “An MD with the Royal College of Surgeons. What’s a surgeon doing terrorizing young ladies on the streets of Edinburgh?”
“Just making his case, I guess.”
He put the card in his pocket. “I’ll hold on to this.”
I waved my fork at him. “If I find out you sicced the police on them, I’ll be very put out with you.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll have to live with that.”
I took a bite of pickle, then shook my head. “Can’t trust anyone.”
“It’s a sad truth,” he said, moving close to wrap his arm around my shoulder. I closed my eyes and leaned against him for a long moment. I could’ve stayed there all day, but he’d pulled his cell phone out with his free hand.
“Finish your lunch,” he murmured, then pressed a button on the phone. I wasn’t surprised when he greeted Angus MacLeod, told him about my library mishap, and asked him to meet us right away.
“Don’t you dare tell him about the Freemasons,” I warned when he ended the call.
“They’re the least of your worries, darling.”
“Perry McDougall has an alibi,” MacLeod said. “He’s been working in his booth at the fair all day.”
So Perry wasn’t my library attacker.
My shoulders fell. “Are you sure?”