“Hello,” she greeted, wincing when the word slipped out sounding like a question.
Typical this would happen to her. She would have to get stranded in some hot Scot’s house when she was at a low point in her life and looking her absolute worst. Gina would think this was hysterical.
She futilely tried to twist her wild hair into a ponytail. It was useless without a hairband to help. The instant she let go of the mass it sprang loose all around her in wild waves.
“I said: who the hell are you?” His words were heavy with a brogue she felt right down to her toes.
He’s asked her a question before? It must have been the bellow that woke her.
She moistened her lips. “I’m Thea.” She paused for his reaction although she didn’t know why. She didn’t expect her name to make a difference to him. She was no one to him. “I was on a tour bus and got left behind. I started walking and it started pouring, but I-I found your house and—”
“Let me guess,” he snarled. “They took you out to visit some magical faerie glens.” He spit out the word faerie like it was the ugliest of epithets.
“Y-yes.”
He whirled away with a stinging curse. He continued to mutter under his breath as he moved about in such a rage that she eyed the door, wondering if she should take her chances with the cold Scottish night. God knew this strapping, virile man could snap her like a twig if he chose.
Standing, she inched that direction, stopping when he whirled on her, blocking her path.
She yelped and took a hasty step back, craning her neck to look up at him. God, he was tall.
“Did it ever occur to ye that those faerie glens are a bunch of shite? Something drummed up for numpty tourists from America?”
“Numpty?” she echoed blankly. “What is that? A candy bar?”
“Numpty,” he repeated, his tone much harsher. Rolling his eyes, he clarified, “Idiotic. Stupid.”
“Oh!” Offended, she squared her shoulders. “Tourism is good for the economy, sir. I would think that—”
His blue eyes widened. He looked fit to kill, and she knew she had said the wrong thing. She didn’t know what could have been the right thing to say, but clearly she had missed it.
“Good for the economy?” He advanced on her.
She retreated until the backs of her legs hit the couch and could go no farther.
He continued, glaring down at her. “Tour buses tearing through my land? Tourists traipsing all over my property with their cameras, dropping their candy wrappers and terrifying my sheep? You call that good for the economy? Whose? No’ mine!”
Her stomach bottomed out. “The faerie glens are on your property?”
He nodded once, his blue eyes cutting and deep. “And I can assure you there is nothing magical about them. I’ve lived my whole life here. It’s simply land. Simply my farm that’s been in my family for generations.”
She nodded again, feeling wretched. “I didn’t know that.” She moistened her lips. “The tour guide never mentioned we were trespassing—”
“It’s no’ trespassing. It’s called freedom to roam—one of my country’s least ingenious ideas. Two years ago a couple hikers happened upon my property. They took some video and posted it on YouTube and proclaimed the glens magical. And there you have it.” He snapped his fingers. “My family’s farm is invaded nearly every day of the year by you locusts.” His top lip lifted in a sneer.
She flinched. Heat burned her face. She was a locust. “I’m sorry. I did not know.”
He looked her up and down. “And now I have one of you in my house. The one place I thought myself safe from you people.”
He stared at her a long moment, raking his gaze over her as though seeing her for the first time. “And you’re wearing my shirt. Is nothing sacred?” he bit out the words, his straight white teeth a striking contrast against his dark beard.
“My clothes were soaking wet.”
“So you just helped yourself to my clothes?” He shook his head. “Typical.”
“I was on the verge of hypothermia!” she said hotly, finally getting angry. She wasn’t to blame for every wrong done to this man. How was she to know her tour bus was one of an army driving through his property?
“Maybe you should have taken a trip to the Bahamas. Can’t get hypothermia there.”
“Trust me! I’m wishing I had. Just get me to the village and I’ll catch the first bus to Glasgow and then hop on a plane home.” Because really, this trip wasn’t going the way she planned at all. But then, the way she had planned it involved Charlie. The two of them together on a romantic honeymoon. She grimaced. Romantic had never been a word that could be applied to them.
They hardly had sex in their years together, and when they did she was always the initiator. In fact, it always felt as though he were doing her a favor when they did it. That didn’t do great things for a girl’s ego.
Engaged couples had a hard time keeping their hands off each other—or so she’d been led to believe. Not them though. That should have been her first warning they weren’t right for each other.
When Charlie broke off the engagement, she wasn’t really surprised. We’re just not a good fit. His words had stung, but she couldn’t disagree with him. They weren’t a good fit. Her boyfriend before him hadn’t been a good fit either.
She seemed destined for bad fits.
The Scot still glared at her as though she were some unwelcome critter that had crawled beneath the door into his house.
She dug out her composure and took a deep breath. “I’m very sorry. If you would be kind enough to drive me to the nearest village I’ll get out of your hair. And please, let me pay you for the use of your shower.”
“You used my shower too?” He glanced toward the bathroom. “What is this? A Holiday Inn?
She winced and exhaled. Might as well confess everything. “And I’ll pay you for the soup too.”
His gaze whipped toward the stove. “You ate my dinner?”
“There’s plenty left,” she assured him, offering a weak smile. “It was very good.”
He shook his head and inhaled sharply, as though fighting for endurance. “I don’t want your money. I want to be left in peace.”
She nodded and motioned to the front door. “Then by all means, let’s get going—”
“We can’t. There is only one road to the village and it’s flooded at the moment. It happens when it rains. I’ll check on it in the morning.”
He stomped away and wrenched open the bathroom door. She flinched at his angry movements.
She stared after him in shock. He could not be serious. She could not stay the night—maybe longer!—with this awful bear of a man.
He looked back at her, his blue eyes scathing. “Don’t worry. I’m as anxious to see you away from here as you are.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” How could a pair of eyes be so piercing?