Page 12 of Winter Longing
“Ye cried for her, wept her name.”
Mildly offended, Cole challenged, “Okay, I’m sure I didn’t cry. I didn’t weep for anyone. Rosie is my aunt,” he explained. “I mean, yeah, I’m a little worried about her. I know she’ll fly into a panic when she doesn’t hear from me. What did they do with my phone?”
“Phone?”
“My cell phone. Is there wi-fi here?”
Her blank look was eerie, and nearly made the hair rise on the back of his neck. “My phone was in my pocket. I couldn’t getreception out there the last few days...where is my phone?” He asked, a bit of panic encroaching.
“I dinna kenphone.” She moved to the small table across the room, drawing Cole’s gaze. “Here is what was recovered from your person—”
“That’s my phone,” he said, holding out his hand as he recognized it. And then, stricken with frustration over his own behavior, as if he couldn’t move, as if she should bring it to him, he frowned and threw back the covers, swinging his feet over onto the floor. He stood quickly, a little desperate to get to the lifeline of his phone. But he’d moved too quickly and was instantly lightheaded, wobbling on his feet. At the same moment he realized how weak and unsteady he was, he was also reminded that he was wearing only his boxer briefs.
“Shit,” he said, falling back onto the bed, planting his feet on the cold floor beneath him. He took a deep breath, trying to salvage his equilibrium—and his modesty, flipping a corner of the fur over his lap.
A quick glance at Ailsa revealed her lips slowly parting as her wide-eyed gaze was fixed on the fur. Oddly enough, at the moment she reminded him of that actress who’d been paired with Orlando Bloom in the pirate movie—what was her name? She’d also starred inPride and Prejudice. Cole only remembered the title of that one because he’d watched it back in high school as a favor to the girl he was dating (brownie points, he’d been trying to score). He’d approached it with more than a little prejudice, and—if he was honest—pride, considering himself too macho to watch what he deemed was a chick flick. However, he specifically recalled the actress for being easy on the eyes, making the whole thing surprisingly bearable.
Cautiously, Ailsa stepped forward, biting her lower lip, holding out his phone to him, holding it gingerly with two fingers as if afraid it might bite.
The light inside the room was certainly dim but he could have sworn a blush crept up her cheeks as she seemed to studiously avoid eye contact with him, her blue eyes fixed on his chest.
Keeping his gaze locked on her face, Cole blindly reached for the device, his fingers brushing hers as the exchange was made. Ailsa swallowed and took two steps backward.
Cole cleared his throat. “Is there wi-fi?”
She lifted her eyes to his. “As I dinna ken what that is, I fear there is nae.”
“An internet signal?” He asked, having believed that wi-fi was a universal term.
Again, to his great consternation, her expression said she had no idea what he was talking about.
Cole sighed, realizing it didn’t matter. Either the battery in his phone was dead or it had been snow-covered and now broken, but it wouldn’t turn on.
He lifted his troubled gaze from his useless phone to the woman, noting once more first how gorgeous she was, and then how she was dressed. What the hell? Between this cold, dreary room and the lack of heat, the way the few people he’d met were dressed and the lack of internet, or even knowledge of it...if he didn’t know better he might have guessed he had stumbled upon an ancient clan of Scots’ people who disavowed modern conveniences. Either that or he’d somehow found himself in another century.
One idea was as improbable as the other.
“I will have Margaret return with a tray,” Ailsa offered, backing away more until she was near the door. “Like as nae, ye need to eat to regain yer strength.”
He nodded absently, a million more questions swirling in his head.
“Ailsa,” he called as she went to the door.
She turned and arched one dark brow.
“Please don’t...”leave me, he wanted to say, but was reluctant to sound so pathetic. “You’ll come back, right?”
She smiled and Cole’s frustration over his lingering confusion briefly dissipated.
Christ, she was gorgeous.
“Aye, sir. I will return.”
Chapter Five
As promised by the remarkable Ailsa—who he could not stop thinking about—the woman named Margaret returned, this time accompanied by a silent and stoic man, assumed to be one of those castle guards Ailsa had mentioned—also remarkable for carrying a sword and dressed just as peculiarly as everyone else he’d met. Margaret delivered a tray of bread and cheese, the latter unlike any variety he was familiar with, being soft but then kind of chewy and sharp in flavor.
They did not linger, and Cole’s clothes had not been returned to him, despite his request—he was angry that he hadn’t thought to ask the same of Ailsa, who thus far had been the friendliest and the most reasonable. As he ate, he let his mind wander, puzzling over what Torr Cinnteag could be and what could have happened to him. He didn’t remember hitting his head, but somehow, here he was...in some remote commune? A feudal reenactment village? A cult? He had no idea, but something felt very off.
