Page 5 of Wild Scottish Fortune

“Is that right?” I increased my attention to Lady Lola, whose chunky bum wiggled in delight at my scratches, and sure enough Sir Buster approached.

“See? He’s pretending he doesn’t care, but he wants in, you ken?”

Once close, Orla scooped up the trembling chihuahua, and we sat in silence, a dog each, until my heart stopped thundering in my chest. I appreciated that we could sit like this, in quiet, while I tried to gather my thoughts. Many other people would have been yammering at me to tell them what happened, but Orla seemed to innately understand what I needed in that moment. Which was to claw myselfback from the edge of a full-fledged panic attack and get my footing under myself again.

Lady Lola flopped her body onto my thighs, and I sighed, automatically brushing the dog hair from the wool.

“Don’t like dogs?” Orla’s tone suggested I must also like murdering babies then, and I slid a glance her way.

“Don’t like dog hair,” I corrected.

“Allergies?”

“Not particularly. Just…messy.” I didn’t have it in me to explain that even though I bought expensive things, I didn’t buy a lot of them, and took care of what I had.

“Messy can be worth it for the joy they bring.” Orla made kissy noises at Sir Buster, who now looked like he worshipped the woman, and I couldn’t say I blamed him. When she pursed those pretty lips of hers and blew kisses, I wanted to lean over and have a taste. “I’ve always wanted a dog.”

“Why don’t you get one?” How were we having such a normal conversation after I was almost murdered by flying ice knives?

“I’m worried I wouldn’t be home enough for a puppy.” Orla shrugged. “Want to tell me what happened in there?”

“Not particularly.” What was I supposed to say? That I’d had a hallucination brought on by too much caffeine and too many nights of little sleep?

“Right then.” Orla stood, depositing Sir Buster on the ground, and dusted off the seat of her overalls. “I’ll just check it out myself.”

Panic returned, and I jumped up, catching her before she opened the door. Wrapping my arms around her shortbody, I pulled her back tightly against my chest, imprisoning her.

“Don’t go in there,” I begged.

“Finlay.” Orla’s tone held a note of warning, and I immediately realized how inappropriate I was being. Her body was imprisoned against mine, and I was struck with our size differences. I could sense the strength in her, and how she’d instantly gone on alert when my arms had come around her. It wasn’t unlikely that she’d been harassed more than once on the job, and here I was trapping her against my body.

“Please don’t go in there,” I amended, easing slowly back, but keeping one hand on her arm. “I don’t think it’s safe.”

Orla turned, giving me an assessing look.

“So it’s true then.”

“What’s true?”

“What my team told me about this building.”

“What did they tell you?” Was I just going to parrot questions back at her to delay telling her what I’d seen? Absolutely. I was so far outside my comfort zone in this moment that I needed to somehow restore order to my world. If that meant a verbal rally with Orla, so be it.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened first?”

“Tell me what your workers said.”

“Are you always this difficult?” Orla demanded, hands at her hips.

“I’m just trying to get a clear answer.”

“So am I.” Orla’s expression grew frustrated.

“Just tell me then.”

“Youtell me first.” Orla threw up herhands, turning to look at the cottage again. Her brow furrowed, and her face took on an expression as though she was very far away for a moment, her eyes seeing something that I couldn’t.

“Not much to say.”

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