Chapter 15
Edwina sniffed and blew her nose and wiped her eyes all the way to Edinburgh. Get ahold of yourself, you were only there two days, Edwina Emily Blair.
Reardon didn’t say a word. Either he had a heart of stone or his employer had filled him in on her shenanigans and he wanted no part of her. They pulled up to Holyrood Palace, and even though it was grander than the Scot’s castle by three times in size, she did not like it at all. It couldn’t possibly be as homey as Castle Dunnegin.
Reardon set her bag at the entryway, bid her a quick good-bye, bowed slightly, and drove away. He’d never once looked her in the eye.
“So much for protocol.” Edwina sighed and carried her bag to the front desk, ready for the fight. While waiting for other customers, she found a chair, pulled all her papers from her purse and smoothed them across her knees. They were in for a good one because she would get on that tour bus. There was nothing else to be done. She sure couldn’t traipse back to the Scot’s place, no matter what trouble she got herself into.
Several minutes passed while she waited in line. She prayed for kindness and for wisdom... because at the moment she did not feel kind or wise. The trip was paid for. Why did they care who went? Her reasoning skills kicked in, and she was ready.
When at last her turn came, she spoke in a clear, no- nonsense tone. “This is my sister. I have taken her place. She was called to Italy because her father passed, and I will be doing the tour.”
“No problem, miss,” came the reply. Edwina’s heart nearly failed her. No problem, miss? Had she heard the words correctly?
“Good, where do we meet?”
“Over there,” the clerk pointed and offered to have someone carry her bag.
“Thank you, but I can handle it.” She sat in a soft mauve chair in a lovely area, huge windows revealing a dark blue sky with puffy white clouds. Her breath came out in one big puff.
Exactly ten days, three blisters, and a roaring headache later, Edwina arrived back at Holyrood in Edinburgh. The tour was hardly relaxing, so rigorous was the itinerary. She’d seen more castles than she could have imagined and had more massages than a girl should have her entire life. Cecelia had scheduled one almost every single night of the tour. She had flatly refused all other treatments. Mud baths, saunas that made you gasp for breath, and other such hardships.
Cecelia owed her big time.
Finally in her hotel room that she hadn’t had to fight for—once on the tour, she was allowed all of Cecelia’s privileges—she threw herself across the bed, not even bothering to slip off her shoes, which were now worn so thin she could feel the hard stone through them.
Dozing, the pain in her leg muscles finally ebbed. The entire tour had been a study in How to Kill an American. Perhaps Cecelia was right in one thing: Americans did not get enough exercise. The others on the tour were not short of breath or tired to the bone. And she was one of the younger set. On top of that, she’d probably dropped five pounds since she’d left home..
Edwina kicked off her shoes and turned, stuffing a pillow behind her back for support. She slowly let her body relax.
Sometime later, a soft knocking invaded her senses. The door... someone was at the hotel door. Who could it be at this hour? A quick check of the clock said it was only four o’clock in the afternoon. How could she have slept so long?
Edwina looked through the peephole and opened the door. “Miss Blair you have a visitor. He’s waiting in the lobby.”
“He?” She pushed strands of hair from her eyes.
“Aye, a man.” The young girl said with a grin. “If I were you, I’d be getting meself down there.” She winked.
Edwina’s eyes grew large. A man? Was it Reardon come to dress her down for some error she’d made? Who else could it be?
“I’ll be right down. Tell him ten minutes.”
“Aye, miss.” And the girl was gone. Quickly throwing off her travel clothes, for she had not bothered to remove them. There was one casual outfit left that was clean. Her jeans and pink button down shirt. But it would have to do, especially if all she would receive is a dressing down from Reardon. Maybe she’d forgotten some piece of luggage. Ten days had passed. How did they know where to find her? Suddenly her tired mind began to wish she’d asked the girl for a description of the man.
Best to find out for herself. She brushed her hair, tucked it behind her ears and scooted out the door. She would skim the lobby and look for a familiar face before presenting herself.
Walking slowly, she cast her eyes from left to right and seeing no one she knew, was about to head back to her room when she saw him. A tall man, standing at a large window, talking on his cell. It was Alex Dunnegin. She knew before he turned.
What was he doing here? And how did he know she was here? What could he possibly want with her?
Looking down at her worn jeans and pink shirt, she shrugged. It couldn’t be that bad. After all she had given him plenty of trouble, the least she could do was see the man who’d taken her in. Duh... that was easy enough.
Smoothing her suddenly warm hands over her jeans, she made her way toward him. He turned as she lifted her hand to tap him on the shoulder. She dropped her hands and tried to read his face as he snapped his phone shut.
“Miss Blair.” He greeted her formally, as a gentleman would do.
Gazing into his face she knew this was not going to be a pleasant visit.
“Mr. Dunnegin.”
“May I speak with you alone?”
Edwina’s eyes opened wider.
“Well yes, of course.”
He motioned to a set of chairs in a corner. He waited
until she was seated then immediately sat in the chair next to her.
“I would like to speak to you about a position.” He ran his hands through his hair.
“Position?” Edwina tried not to cringe.
“Yes, you see I have a situation that needs a person with a sense of duty – in confidence.” He added.
“Duty? Confidence?” She repeated giving herself time to digest his words.
“Yes, it is the utmost trust that I require of you.”
“Mr. Dunnegin. Today is the last day here in Scotland. I don’t see how I could help you.”
“That is the...” he stopped when several people came and sat nearby.
“May I take you to dinner?” He stood.
Edwina followed his lead and stood. She was hungry. Then remembered what she was wearing. “I’m not dressed...”
“Go upstairs and make yourself presentable. I ask for precisely two hours of your time. When we are finished, you may make your decision.”
Edwina nearly cringed. What in the world could he possibly want from her? She saw from his body language that he was prepared to wait.
“I’ll go upstairs and change then.” She said and was off. Her fingers tingled.
In her room, she tossed clothing aside as unsuitable. Besides that, most of her things were ready for the laundry. What did one wear when they were? What? In a meeting? Frustration sent her in dizzying circles. When in doubt dress in what you feel good in. That was what she had always done. This was no different, she kept telling herself.
A pair of dark brown dress pants and white long-sleeved blouse was the only choice. The one formal outfit she’d not had occasion to wear during the tour was still presentable. They would be out in the evening. She combed her hair once again and pulled it together with a wide barrette behind her neck. That would add a bit of formality to her look—since this was to be some sort of a dinner meeting.
Snatching a tan sweater and throwing it over her arm, she grabbed her small purse, smoothed the wrinkles from her pants and opened the door. What did he expect on such short notice? Pulling in a deep breath, she walked down the hall.
She caught sight of him. He was on the phone again. There was something amiss. She could feel it in her bones.