“We’ve been discussing putting in a golf course, but it would be a shame to cut down so many trees to make it happen.”
There. Golf. Normal.
“Trees are better than golf,” Jennifer said. “I can’t stand it. Watching golf is like receiving a lobotomy in slow motion.”
“Och, no lassie, don’t let my family hear ya say that.” Rory placed a hand over his heart. “Perhaps ya didn’t have the right teacher.”
“If that’s an invitation, thank you, but I’ll pass,” she said. “So they say you all moved here recently.”
“They?”
“They, people, townsfolk,” she answered with a smile. That one expression lit up his whole body with pleasure.
“Aye, we did.”
She sat back in her seat. Her hair still whipped a little from the wind but not as much as before. “Where did you move from? Scotland?”
“The family hasn’t lived in Scotland for many, many years. We discuss going back at various times, but honestly, we’ve been here so long, America has become home.”
“Where did you live before here?”
“New York, most recently. Before that in Philadelphia, and before that a Southern plantation, basically anywhere we can find big enough to fit us all. I think this area might be one of my favorites.”
“Really? You have lived all over the world, and Wisconsin is your favorite?” She seemed skeptical. “From the pictures I’ve seen, Scotland would be amazing. I don’t know how you left.”
“We left when it was time to do so.” Rory still didn’t push a more serious conversation. “Finding a home that can fit us all with so much untouched beauty is rare. I have a feeling we’ll be calling Green Vallis home for a long time.”
He pulled up in front of the Georgian-style mansion, parking the car so that her door faced the house's front. Spotlights were aimed at the stark white siding, causing the home to practically glow against the dark sky.
“Holy crap, you are rich,” Jennifer whispered.
“It’s family money.”
“Still…” She opened the door and slowly stepped out of his car. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who could afford to live in a palace.”
“It’s hardly a palace.”
“Um, I live in a seven-hundred-square-foot trailer.” She tilted her head back to look toward the roof. “This is a twenty-thousand-square-foot house. A hundred of my homes could fit in here.”
“Not quite that many,” he denied. Rory started walking toward the house, expecting her to follow.
“Regardless, compared to where I live, this is a freaking palace.” She took a deep breath and didn’t look like she was going to go inside.
“What is it?” Rory walked back toward his car.
In the valley at the bottom of the hill, lights created a beautiful pattern. It was far enough to look like stars covering the earth but close enough that he could still make out which line of light was Main Street.
“Are ya embarrassed because ya live in a trailer? I guarantee that no one here will care,” he said, trying to put her at ease.
“Why would I be embarrassed about that?” She frowned. “There’s no shame in living in a trailer. Or being poor. I don’t regret any of the decisions that have led me to where I am. Sure, if I would have gone to college, I might be making more money right now, but then I wouldn’t have been there to take care of my dad for the last years of his life. I don’t regret a second I got to spend with him. People win over material things any day of the week.”
“I fully agree.” Rory nodded. “But then, can I ask why ya look nervous?”
“I think there was someone in my home earlier,” she said. “That’s why I agreed to come here. I was too scared to go home, but I’m not sure…”
“Ya are most welcome to stay as long as ya need,” he said. “My family can be a handful, as ya well saw, but they mean well.”
“I’m not trying to move in,” Jennifer assured him. She frowned and looked around the lawn. “Do you hear that?”
“What?” He didn’t hear anything.
“You don’t hear someone speaking?” She turned to a line of trees and inched toward them, craning her neck as if that might help her see past them.
“Only ya,” he said. “Lydia’s house is that way. Maybe she and Erik’s voices are carrying?”
“No. I’ve been hearing this one all day.” She frowned. “You don’t hear another voice? A woman?”
“What’s the woman saying?”
“There you are,” Jennifer answered. “Over and over. There you are. It’s like she’s been looking for me but…I sound insane.”
“You’re not insane.” Rory put his arm over her shoulders. “Let’s go inside.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. I swear, I saw your uncle’s hands glow.” Jennifer resisted going into the house with him. “I think maybe I hit my head the night you found me in the woods, and I should have gone to a doctor. That’s the only explanation.”
Rory furrowed his brow. “Well, not the only.”
“The most likely, then,” Jennifer insisted. “Audible hallucinations, lack of focus, trouble remembering people’s orders, emotional distress.”
“Emotional distress?” Rory found himself wanting to pull her closer. “What do ya mean by that?”
“When I’m near you, I…” She refused to meet his gaze.
“I feel the same way.” Rory cupped her cheeks and pulled her in for a kiss. Pleasure and anticipation erupted inside of him.
“What?” Jennifer swatted at his hands. “I didn’t mean I want to make out with you. I meant that when I’m near you, I want to hit you over the head with a bat.”
“Ya don’t want to…?” He pulled back.
Wow. He’d read that signal wrong.
“I mean, yeah, of course, I want to kiss you. You’re handsome and nice and wear a kilt like some kind of romance movie hero. It’s hard not to see the fantasy there.” She took a step back. “But I also have this undeniably strong urge to run you over with a car.”
“Sounds like marriage.”
Rory stiffened to hear his father’s voice coming from the front door.
“My Cait threatens to run me over all the time, though she usually says she wants to trample me with wild horses,” Murdoch said. “Can’t say I don’t sometimes deserve it. Take my word for it, son. Apologize. It doesn’t matter what for. Always assume when it comes to your woman’s anger, you’re in the wrong.”
Rory flinched. Referring to Jennifer as his “woman” after she pulled away from his kiss probably wasn’t the best flow of conversation.
“Da, I’d like ya to meet Jennifer,” Rory introduced. “She’s a friend.”
“Mr. MacGregor.” Jennifer gave a small wave but didn’t go closer to the house.
“Murdoch,” his father corrected. “Listen, son, your ma and aunt Margareta are waiting for ya in the dining room. They look serious. There’s cheese and wine.” He switched his language so Jennifer couldn’t understand and added, “Plus, they are discussing binding spells, just in case.”