Free Highlander’s Curse by Melissa Mayhue Page B

today trying to hunt the man down.
    No wonder he’d lied to her. A great-looking guy like that probably had women stalking him on at least two continents. And clearly she had turned into one of those stalkers.
    “Thanks a whole hell of a lot, Casey.”
    No, that wasn’t fair. This wasn’t any more her friend’s fault than it was her own. It was
his
fault.
    Margaret had said that MacAlister was a common name here, so his telling her his name was
Colin MacAlister
could well be the Scottish equivalent of introducing yourself as John Smith, for all she knew. He must have thought himself pretty clever pulling that one on her.
    Didn’t that just serve her right for picking some stranger up in a bar? All things considered, she had absolutely no right to feel so horribly betrayed. After all, he was nothing more than that: a stranger.
    And yet betrayed was exactly what she felt. Hurt, betrayed, lost, and gullible.
    “And stupid,” she muttered. That’s really what she was. She certainly couldn’t leave off her growing list how utterly, completely stupid she felt.
    With a deep sigh, Abby put the car in drive, pausing before she moved forward to wait for the dark blue car idling across from her to pull out of his space. When the driver simply stared at her but made no effort to move his vehicle, she pulled forward.
    “Men,” she fumed aloud, casting an indignant look his direction. “That one’s likely so busy trying to figure out a fake name he could give some poor woman, he’s just sitting there like a lump on a log.” Well, too bad for him. He’d have to follow her now. Hopefully, wherever that woman was, she’d be smarter than Abby had been. For her own part, she sure as heck wouldn’t be fooled by that trick twice.
    Abby nosed the car forward but slammed her foot on the brakes as one little detail slipped into her mind.
    How could she have forgotten something so important?
    Behind her, brakes squealed and gravel flew as the driver of the car she’d seen earlier slammed on his brakes to avoid rear-ending her.
    Their eyes met briefly in the reflection of the rearview mirror and Abby mouthed a quick
sorry
before pulling forward again, her mood too lightened to allow her to dwell on feeling guilty for her little driving indiscretion.
    Colin might have lied about his home, but he hadn’t given her a fake name and she had proof.
    She’d spoken to his cousin on the telephone that day to arrange to have him picked up from her house. She’d seen Mairi MacKiernan Navarro, a woman she knew personally, drive up in front of her house and take him away.
    He might not be from Dun Ard, or at least not
this
Dun Ard, but that didn’t mean she’d never be able to find him. All she had to do was call up her old professor and ask where her cousin was now.
    Simple.
    Of course, before she made that phone call, she’d have to find the nerve to do it, and that would be the tricky part.

Ten

    L iar!”
    From somewhere in the endless black void, the accusation flew at Colin, pummeling his body and his soul with its inherent anger.
    “He lied to me.”
    Colin shivered as the plaintive whisper rolled over him. The pain in Abigail’s voice hit him harder than the accusation alone ever could have. Like some vicious beastie, it clawed its way into his heart, leaving an empty, gaping hole in its path.
    He awoke from his sleep and sat up on the narrow cot in his quarters, one hand clasped to the wound on his chest to hold back the flow of blood.
    Only there was no blood. Indeed there was not even any wound. It had all been a dream.
    “By the Fates,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his sweat-slicked forehead. All hope of sleep forgotten, he slipped from his bed and crossed to a small window facing out over the Hall of the High Council’s magnificent courtyard.
    He’d never experienced a dream so real. Not even the others he’d had regularly of the woman in whose bed he’d landed when he’d been pulled from his own time.
    And