Page 48 of Kilt Trip

The rest of the guests filed off the bus, and Logan held his arms out, directing them away from her. She studied Logan’s profile, trying and failing to fit the nurturing man standing in front of her together with the arrogant man she’d first met. No one—outside of his family—had tried to take care of her in a very long time.

His boots crunched in the gravel as he made his way to her and crouched down. “Would you rather stay on the bus?”

Addie’s heart gave an erratic thud like it’d frozen and keeled over from shock.

Logan genuinely wanted her to believe in the way he ran these tours. The fact he was willing to let her skip it spoke volumes about his character.

It said he cared more about her than winning.

He was a dangerous combination of sensitive and challenging, and Addie was having a hell of a time feigning disinterest. She kept discovering more and more to like about him.

She might intend to tear his tour to shreds, but she’d at least give him the decency of a fair fight.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Addie accepted his outstretched hand, warm and calloused, even though she was perfectly capable of standing by herself.

Addie followed Logan as he led the group into the trees with the steady assurance of a man who grew up scrambling over rocky hills. Her nausea evaporated with every step anchoring her to the hard ground under her feet.

They followed what was essentially a deer path through the woods, and bare trees scratched the sky, clawlike in the fading golden light. The gloaming.

Logan pointed into the branches. “When no one is around, the trees tell stories of people who have walked below them,” he said, his voice muted in the dense forest. “Over that rise is a sacred pool. There are many in the Highlands, all thought to bring magical healing. The folklore is very old, dating back to the time when the Druids walked these hills. People would travel farther than they ever had in their lives to find these pools, or clootie wells. The ailing person would soak a wee scrap of cloth in the well and hang it on a nearby branch as an offering to the healing spirits. Once the fabric disintegrated, they’d be cured.”

If Neil had told her this in the office, Addie would have commended him on an excellent marketing ploy. But the woods were silent except for the sounds of their footfalls, and the power of this place settled around her shoulders.

A rust-orange blanket of leaves muffled their steps as the group followed behind. “I always thought the rain smelled like wet pavement, but it’s pine needles and something else here.”

“Peat,” Logan said, his breath coming out in puffs in the cold air. “It’s an ancient moss.”

A smile broke out on Addie’s face. “Ah, so the rain gives it that earthy perfume? That beguiling—”

Logan gripped her shoulders and gently shook. “That’s enough out of you.”

As they came to the top of the hill, the trees changed, their branches dense at the bottom, ominous in the fading light. “What is that?”

On closer inspection, fat ribbons dangled from the lowest branches like a shredded clothesline, swishing in the breeze.

Logan grabbed a handful of fabric strips from his shoulder bag and pulled one loose, handing it to Addie. “Go ahead and leave a healing wish—although you look hearty and hale to me now.” Logan’s words were light and playful, but his gaze sweeping over her body was anything but.

Addie snatched the floral-print material from his hand, ignoring the fluttering in her chest. “Prefrayed and everything. So where’s the well?”

“I’ll show you.” Over his shoulder, he called to the group, “This way.”

Winding through the trees behind Logan, Addie looked for a wishing well with a rope pull and wooden bucket but should have known it would be more archaic. Logan knelt down on the flat stones lining a miniature pond, moss threatening to overtake them. Addie followed suit, bumps of lichen under her palm. “I just dunk this in here?”

“Have some reverence about it, lass.”

Biting back a smile, Addie gently laid the soft cotton on the shiny surface of the water and waited for it to be pulled under before lifting it out, dripping onto the rocks. “Now what?”

“Circle the well sunwise three times.”

“Is that like counterclockwise?”

Logan’s eyebrows drew together, and he stood, pointing. Addie tiptoed around the pool. When she finished her third lap, she went looking for an empty branch within reach, while Logan repeated the tradition for the others.

Including guests in ancient superstitions, 10 points.

Now, what healing to wish for?

The darkening sky and the eerie calm of that place collided with the answer and made it altogether serious and heavy.

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