Page 18 of His to Keep
“More than I can count.” My aunts and cousins of varying degrees of closeness must number in the hundreds. “I was thinking specifically of my sister and my brothers’ wives.”
“And do these sophisticated women think it’s okay for you to act like a caveman and carry me off to be married?”
I shrug. “I don’t think they know about the plan. One of my brothers might have said something to them, but I’ve not spoken to any of the women since I came to Scotland.”
Eilidh looks up at me, her dark, soulful eyes studying me carefully. “So, they don’t know why you came here?”
“I didn’t come for you.” Is it my imagination or does hurt flicker across her face? “I came to bag some Munros.”
Eilidh huffs out a disbelieving breath. “You’re a hill climber?”
“I was trying to be. Ever since I was a kid, I dreamed about tackling the highest peaks in Scotland, but after…” I trail off mid-sentence. Until Eilidh is more settled and accepts her future role as my wife, I don’t want to tell her about the shooting that landed me in the hospital for several weeks. It might spook her to think, despite my promises to protect her, I couldn’t even keep myself safe.
“After what?” Eilidh asks.
“Nothing.”
To my surprise, she lets the topic go. Perhaps she’ll use this as currency when she doesn’t want to share a part of her past with me. She’ll remind me that I too have secrets I don’t feel comfortable divulging.
“Munro bagging is a strange thing for a Mafia prince to dream of doing,” Eilidh muses.
“You’re not the first person to think that.”
My brothers flat out told me I was crazy for wanting to cross the Atlantic to explore the Scottish countryside and push myself to the limits by climbing the country’s highest mountains. They didn’t understand that I’d gotten the image in my head when I was a kid, and it had embedded itself so deeply inside me I couldn’t settle until I’d made it a reality.
“Hmm, each to their own,” Eilidh says. “I used to dream of spending time on a ranch in Wyoming or somewhere like that.”
“You still want to do that?”
We scan the tickets Danny procured for us and pass through the security barrier without incident.
“No.” Eilidh smiles sadly. “I grew out of it.”
“Well, if you change your mind, I can make it happen.”
My offer doesn’t please her for some reason. She flashes me a scowl and then changes the subject.
“We’re in Room 6 in Coach B.” Eilidh leads the way, walking along the platform until she comes to the correct carriage. She boards the train ahead of me and quickly locates our room. The door is open, so she walks right in and drops the magazines onto the small table under the window. “Well, this is it. Home sweet…”
As she spins around, Eilidh stops dead. Her lip trembles with undisguised mirth as I duck my head to get through the door. Then she bursts into gleeful giggles. I don’t have to ask her why she’s laughing because I feel ridiculous in this compact room. The ceiling is a mere two inches above my head, and there’s barely any space for me to turn around. The bunk beds aren’t designed to accommodate a man of my height. I open the door to my left and find a bathroom I know I’ll struggle to use.
“This isn’t funny,” I gripe as Eilidh laughs.
“It kind of is. You look like a giant.”
Despite the scowl I send her, I like her unbridled glee. Happy Eilidh is a woman I could quickly grow to love. Abandoning that thought, I sit on the edge of the bed and try to make these accommodations work for me. I have to lean forward to avoid hitting my head on the upper bunk. Tonight won’t be comfortable for me. When I was shot, I sustained a leg injury. While it’s mostly healed, I do still suffer frequently from cramps and there is no room on this bed for me to stretch it out.
“This isn’t going to work,” I grumble. “I’ll never get to sleep.”
My brothers seem able to exist on a couple of hours’ slumber each night, but I need to get a proper rest. Eilidh comes to stand in front of me. She isn’t laughing anymore. Instead, she regards me with a look of concern.
“Tell you what.” She waves the prepaid credit card in front of my face and then slips it into her jacket pocket. “Let me buy you some dinner and a drink. Think of it as a first date.”
I am hungry and it didn’t even occur to me to buy supplies for the trip. My focus was on ensuring we got here safely. “You think train food is any good?”
“I think it’s food and my stomach needs it.” Eilidh puts her hands on her hips and gives me a stern glare. “You’re not a food snob, are you?”
“I ate that microwave lasagna for lunch.” It was a real test of endurance because that meal was foul. The minced beef was hard, like tiny pellets of rabbit food, and the béchamel sauce was thick enough to plaster a wall. I could almost hear my Italian forebears screaming at me not to take another bite.
