Jimmy froze, thinking for an instant that Lachlan’s ESP had told him about the extra twenty per cent he’d been pocketing; but he decided that it might just be a Scottish way of saying hello, so he answered carefully, “Just fine, sir. But this guy has a special request, and I don’t know what to do about him.”
“Och aye?” said Lachlan, turning his performance on the customer. “How can I help, Mr… MacDonald, wouldn’t it be?”
“Hutcheson, actually.” The man shook Lachlan’s hand. “Dr. Walter Hutcheson. I was looking for a tartan for my wife.”
“Well, we have the MacDonald hunting, which is a nice green, or perhaps a dress plaid in the ancient colors?”
“No. I don’t need MacDonald. You see, my wife is from Scotland. She’s the niece of the Duke of Rothesay, and I’d like to find out what tartan she’d take and get her a scarf in it. I don’t know much about these things myself.”
Lachlan Forsyth looked thoughtful. “The Duke of Rothesay, eh? I’d like very much to meet her.”
Dr. Hutcheson smiled. “Heather’s back at the camper now. I’ll try to bring her by sometime, though. Do you have her plaid in stock?”
The old man produced a fringed scarf patterned in soft blues and beige. “Her ladyship would be entitled to wear this one,” he declared. “No one more so.”
“Oh, Heather doesn’t bother with all that title business,” said her husband with a touch of pride. “She hates for me to tell people about it. Now that she’s in America, she says she wants to be plain old Mrs. Hutcheson. I’ll bring her by.”
“Right. Do that. Oh, look-here comes the MacPhersons’ Maid of the Cat. Wonder what she’s about. Here, doctor, my assistant can take care of the purchase for you. He needs the practice.” Lachlan waved to the couple approaching the stall. “Hello, Moggie!” he called to the bobcat. “Who are your friends here?”
“Hi!” said Elizabeth. “Do you have any tapes by the Duke of Glasgow?”
Lachlan Forsyth looked puzzled. “Dukes again! Tapes, d’ye say? By the Duke of Glasgow?”
Behind Elizabeth, Cameron mouthed, “Bil-ly Con-nol-ly.”
Lachlan grinned. “Oh, aye! Is it him you’re wanting? Lassie, I’m truly sorry. Not many Americans appreciate His Grace, so I don’t carry his work. You come to see me at the Grandfather games next July, and I’ll see what I can do for you.” He turned to Cameron. “You should’ve brought some with you, laddie. Where are you from? Kelvinside, from the look of you.”
“Edinburgh,” said Cameron.
“Ah, Morningside, then. Just over, are you?”
Lachlan and Cameron began to talk animatedly about the Rangers. Elizabeth, deciding that she wasn’t interested in British military matters, began to look at the stall displays when she noticed the man at her side.
“Dr. Hutcheson!” she cried. “I’m so glad to see you. It’s been ages! I’m Elizabeth MacPherson, remember?”
“Ah, yes! The little girl who used to be so crazy about border collies. I see you’re still fond of livestock.” He nodded toward Cluny.
“Yes. He’s the Chattan mascot. I’ll leave him with my cousin when I go to see the collies. Is Marge out with them or back at the camper?”
Dr. Hutcheson reddened. “I guess most people here haven’t heard. Marge and I are no longer married.” Seeing Elizabeth’s look of astonishment, he hurried on. “We-ah-came to a parting of the ways about a year ago, and I’ve remarried. Is that your husband?” he asked, glancing at Cameron.
“No,” murmured Elizabeth. “He’s a professor from Scotland. I’m showing him around.”
“Scotland! Well, isn’t that something? Heather’s from Scodand too! Why don’t you bring him by the camper this evening for our get-together?”
“I’ll ask Cameron.” She wasn’t thinking clearly enough to come up with a glib excuse not to go. The news about the divorce had caught her off guard. Still, maybe Cameron would enjoy meeting another Scot. She should ask him, at least.
“You won’t have any trouble finding us in the campground,” Dr. Hutcheson was saying. “We’re flying the MacDonald banner, since I’m regional clan president. Of course, Heather isn’t a MacDonald by birth.” He pulled out a corner of the newly purchased scarf. “That’s
“I think so,” said Elizabeth, giving him a meaningful stare. “Is Marge here on her own, do you think?”
Dr. Hutcheson’s lips tightened. “I haven’t seen her. Do stop by later, both of you.” He nodded curtly and walked away.
Cameron looked up from his discussion with Lachlan in time to hear the last few words. “Stop by?” he echoed.
“He’s the local chief of the MacDonalds,” Elizabeth explained. “And his new wife is Scottish, so he wants us to come by later and meet her.”
Cameron, detecting a note of bitterness in Elizabeth’s voice, said, “I don’t mind. Do you want to?”
“Maybe. I have to find somebody first. Can I meet you later? At the Chattan tent around seven?”
“Leave him with me!” boomed Lachlan. “I’m having a high time hearing about the Rangers bashing the Celtics.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flashed. “As a Gaelic people, I should think you’d be more sympathetic to the troubles in Northern Ireland!” Without waiting for an answer, she swept away.
Lachlan and Cameron exchanged puzzled glances. What did Belfast have to do with Scottish soccer matches?
CHAPTER FIVE
ELIZABETH found Geoffrey at the sign-up booth for athletic events. “What on earth are you doing?” she demanded.
He shrugged. “Well, I thought I’d get into the spirit of things. Learn how to do something. It might be useful for
Elizabeth smiled. “Can you do without me for a while? I’ve met somebody…”
Geoffrey raised his eyebrows. “Oh? What’s he like?”
“Mmmm. He looks like Prince Philip did when he married Queen Elizabeth.”
“Oh! He’s Greek!”
Elizabeth scowled. “He’s from Scotland. He has a Ph.D. in marine biology, and the way he talks is just lethally sexy.”
“Oh. Scottish. Too bad.”
“What do you mean, too bad?”
Geoffrey grinned. “Remember what you told me earlier? All the Highland clansmen were either murdered after Culloden or driven out of Scotland. So if this guy comes from there…”
“Shut up, Geoffrey. You always exaggerate. Anyway, I don’t care if there were sharks in his gene pool, he’s adorable. And he has an accent like pancake syrup-all l’s and r’s.” She sighed.
Geoffrey groaned. “Are you going to get a grip on yourself, or do I have to turn the hose on you?”
Elizabeth made a face at him.
“And what about your boyfriend the grave robber?”
“Milo?” She hesitated. “Well… we aren’t engaged or anything. I told Mary Gillespie we were, but that was in self-defense. Anyway, I’m just showing Cameron around the games.”
“From the way you were talking earlier, it sounds as if he’ll need a bodyguard to protect him from his guide.”
“Oh, you’re worse than Bill. Anyway, what are you doing right now?”
“Why do you ask, cousin?”
