Oh, hell no.
There were four teenage girls cornering Isabel, and they all knew who she was. They had their phones out and were clicking away while Isabel kept shaking her head, trying to get to Michael.
Isabel had never seen anyone move as fast as Michael did. He had his arm around her, and all but carried her out the back door. Alasdair followed and locked the door so the girls would have to go around the block to catch up with them.
She waited until they were back in the car and on their way and then said, “One of those girls asked me if I was engaged to Xavier. She said she read it on the Internet, so it must be true. I shook my head, but I didn’t talk to her.” The muscle in his cheek flexed. “We aren’t going to make any more stops today, are we?”
“That’s right. No more stops.”
“It’s just as well. I’m plain sick of hearing about Clive Harcus. If you hear something terrible about a person, you have to wonder if it could be true. But when you hear the same thing over and over again from different people in different villages, you have to conclude there’s more than a grain of truth in what they’re saying.”
“Uh-huh.” He wasn’t really listening. He was trying to figure out how he was going to get Isabel in and out of Gladstone’s office. Inspector Sinclair would have all the details. The first thing he was going to do when they were in their hotel room was call Nick and find out why Gladstone couldn’t meet them somewhere outside of Dunross.
“Millie’s a lovely lady, isn’t she?”
The question jarred him out of his thoughts. He nodded but didn’t have anything to say about Isabel’s newest friend. How did she keep track of all of them? he wondered.
“You know what we should do?”
“What?”
“We should drive to Kinley and eat at the Lazy Pig Pub. It’s not that far from here,” she said.
“You’ll get to meet some of your relatives, have a pint or two, and if you’re lucky, you might get to
punch someone in the face. That might lighten your mood.”
“We aren’t going to go into any pubs, remember? And nothing’s wrong with my mood. I just want this to be over. I want you to be safe back in Boston, and I want to get on with my life.”
He saw the look on her face and said, “Don’t take what I said the wrong way.”
“You want to catch the people who are after me so you can drop me off in Boston and get on with your life. How could I take that the wrong way?”
And just like that, Michael was back to being a bonehead.
TWENTY-SEVEN
MICHAEL WAS FEELING GUILTY BECAUSE HE KNEW HE HAD HURT ISABEL’S FEELINGS. HE
probably shouldn’t have been so blunt, but he had told her the truth. He did want to get her safely back to Boston, and he did need to get on with his life. He was expected at Quantico the end of August, where he would begin training to become an FBI agent. Once he achieved that goal, he planned to work his way into the department he was most qualified for and go after homegrown terrorists and power-hungry deviants, put them away before they could come up with bigger and better ways to blow up the world.
It was all mapped out, but he couldn’t go anywhere until he was certain Isabel was safe and those who wanted to hurt her were behind bars. Only then could he move on.
But a future without Isabel at his side driving him crazy? He couldn’t imagine anything more depressing.
Isabel watched Michael remove the map from the glove compartment and study it for a minute.
Then he folded it, put it away, and started driving again. She didn’t ask any questions. She was too angry and frustrated to talk to him now. She needed to get her temper under control before she said something she would regret. She was a lady, she reminded herself, and wouldn’t use any of the foul words racing through her mind.
Michael really was a bonehead. Did he have any idea what he was giving up when he moved on with his life? She was all a man could ever want, damn it. Why couldn’t he see that?
She reasoned it through. Michael wasn’t only a bonehead. He was also dense, which in her opinion was just another word for stupid. With all his degrees and awards and only God knew what else, when it came to relationships Michael was almost as dense as she was. She had no business falling for such a stupid man. Someone should have warned her. She thought about it a minute and then decided she needed to write a song about it.
Michael was just about to apologize for hurting her feelings, but then he glanced at her. She looked serene and happy. What was that about? He told her he was going to get on with his life and she’s happy? He expected a little pushback at the very least.
Then she smiled at him. He couldn’t explain why that made him mad.
Isabel was much calmer now and enjoying coming up with lyrics she thought were funny but true about men in general and Michael in particular. Unfortunately, they were too inappropriate to sing.
She even had a couple of titles in mind. “Men Are Jerks” was one. “Michael Buchanan Is a Colossal,
Insensitive, Obtuse Jerk” was another. That was way too long for a title, of course. She’d have to shorten it to “Colossal Jerk.” Yes, that would work.
She knew she would never write the song or sing it, but it made her feel better to think about it.
She continued to ignore Michael as they drove through the countryside. It had been another rainy day and the dark sky cast a gray shadow on the land, but when they reached the top of a particularly steep hill, the sun suddenly broke through the clouds and a golden orange light billowed out over the valley below. Michael parked between two Scots pines to face the view. Then he turned the motor off and sat back.
“Do you know where we are?” he asked.
“Glen MacKenna,” she guessed.
“Yes.”
“Is it safe to be here?”
“I took back roads. There was very little traffic, and I made sure no one was following us, so yeah, we’re safe for now. What do you think of your glen?”
She was in awe. She had a panoramic view, and it was perfect.
“Isabel?” He said her name after a minute when she hadn’t answered him.
“It’s beautiful . . . pristine.”