"You know what bod ceann means?" The woman sounds surprised and almost offended.

  Maybe Scots don't like outsiders using their secret language.

  "Luke has no idea what it means," Kirsty says. "He is American, after all."

  "Oh, aye," the other women agree, as if that explains everything.

  "Prejudiced against Americans?" I say. "Thought you MacTaggarts loved to marry our kind, probably for the sex. The men in your family that I've met all seemed like they wouldn't know how to make a woman—"

  Kirsty smacks her palm down on the counter. "Stop talking, Luke. These are my sisters, Isla and Elspeth. They donnae need to hear your arrogant rubbish."

  "We love rubbish," declares the woman who seems younger than the one who spoke earlier. "It's very entertaining, which explains why we love Logie so much. He's full of rubbish."

  Logie? I need to work really hard to stop myself from chuckling. They must call their brother Logan by that nickname, but I'd bet every cent I have that he hates it.

  Kirsty shuts her eyes briefly and shakes her head just a touch. "Might as well introduce yourselves."

  The one who seems older approaches me, offering her hand. "I'm Isla MacTaggart, the oldest sibling in our family. Logan is the second oldest, and Kirsty is third. Elspeth is the baby."

  "I am not a baby," Elspeth says, almost pouting.

  "You're the youngest. That's what I meant."

  Since Isla is still holding out her hand, I shake it. "Nice to meet you."

  "Oh, it willnae be nice if you hurt our Kirsty. Logie doesn't take kindly to men who make his sisters unhappy." Isla leans in and whispers, "He was an MI6 agent, which means Logie knows all the most painful ways to kill someone."

  "I'll keep that in mind."

  But yeah, it's kind of hard to be intimidated by what she said when she keeps calling her brother Logie. Ooh, Logie's going to thrash me. No, that doesn't quite work.

  "Are you ready to start your experiments already?" Elspeth asks.

  I stare at her. "Experiments?"

  Kirsty clears her throat and hunches her shoulders. "I didn't think it was a secret."

  Well, I guess I hadn't told her not to share the news. I should have, and Melvin will rip me a new one if he finds out, but it's too late to worry about it. "Would you three mind if we keep this between us? I'd rather not have the whole village gossiping about it. Might, ah, interfere with the integrity of the experiment."

  That almost sounded plausible.

  "Of course," Isla says. "Our lips are sealed."

  She makes a zipper motion across her mouth, and Elspeth does the same.

  Kirsty squeezes her eyes shut and makes a pained face.

  "Now," Isla says, "tell us what you mean to do with our sister."

  "I, uh… It's just a scientific study of metaphysical beliefs."

  "Oh, you mean that you want to know why people like us feel the need to indulge in all that nonsense."

  That's almost verbatim what I told Kirsty yesterday.

  And now she's peeking out at me through her half-closed eyes while her face cinches up even more.

  "That doesn't sound very objective or scientific," Isla says. "Are you sure you're a real scientist? Maybe you meant you're a Scientologist."

  Her cheerful tone and pleasant smile make it hard for me to take offense. I'm beginning to think Kirsty's sister is teasing me.

  Elspeth giggles. "Maybe you want to abduct Kirsty and take her to your cult so you can perform naughty sex rituals with her."

  "Aye, he probably does," Isla says. "He looks like the wicked sort who—"

  "Haud yer wheesht!" Kirsty shouts. She takes a deep breath that lifts her tits and exhales it slowly while the tension relaxes out of her. She sounds like her usual self when she speaks again. "Luke and I need to discuss the experiment in private. Please."

  Isla smirks. "She means 'bugger off, ye eejits.' Aye, Elspeth?"

  "Aye." The youngest sister smirks at me too. "But I think he's the sort of man who makes sure a woman enjoys it when he shags her. My third eye tells me so."

  Third eye? Kirsty mentioned second sight. But now Elspeth thinks she's got three eyes? That must mean something else in the Wiccan world.

  "Do not tell anyone about the experiment," Kirsty says, and I've never heard her sound so commanding before. It's hot.

  Isla rolls her eyes. "Come on, Elspeth, you've scared the laddie enough."

  The two sisters leave the shop, laughing and chattering in what must be Gaelic.

  Kirsty pretends to be obsessed with the wood grain on the countertop. "I'm sorry about that. My sisters can be…overly enthusiastic. And I honestly didn't think it would matter if I told them what you want to do with me."

  What I want to do? Screw her, that's what. But I can't do it. She means the experiment, and a scientist must remain objective—even when he's fantasizing about his test subject's tits.

  "It's okay," I tell her. "But if we could keep it between you, me, and your sisters, that would be good."

  "When MacTaggarts make a promise, they keep it."

  "I'll take your word for it." Shoving my hands into my pants pockets, I hesitate, suddenly having no idea what to say. Then I remember. "I need a quiet place to conduct the experiment. Do you know of any offices for rent or—"

  "Oh no, you don't want an office. That won't be quiet enough." She picks up the phone that sits on the counter beside her computer. "I'll take care of it. Donnae worry."

  No, I don't worry at all about what kind of place Kirsty will find for me. She hates me, and I called her insane more than once. But hey, she'll be reasonable about this. It's not like she'll book a super-expensive venue just to bankrupt me.

  I listen while she makes her call. Not because I'm eavesdropping. I can't help overhearing her part of the conversation since she's standing six feet away from me.

  "Rory," she says cheerfully, "it's Kirsty. Aye, I need a favor."

  I watch her facial expressions while she talks to Rory, who I assume is the solicitor whose law office I saw during my meanderings in the village. Maybe he's going to lend us his office. No, I kind of doubt that. But maybe he's rich and owns a house nearby that he never uses.

  Kirsty grins. "That would be perfect, Rory. Thank you so much. Emery is right, you are a teddy bear in disguise."

  I have no idea who Emery is. But I doubt any MacTaggart man is a teddy bear.

  She hangs up the phone and gives me a closed-mouth smile with her cheeks dimpled.

  "You found a venue," I say. "And you're very pleased with yourself for doing that."

  "Aye, because I found the perfect place."

  "Where is it?" I'm getting a sinking feeling in my stomach, like she's about to tell me something I don't want to hear.

  Kirsty grins again. "My cousin Rory's castle."

  Chapter Seven

  Kirsty

  Maybe I am enjoying this a bit too much, but after the way Luke has behaved, I think I've earned the right to feel pleased with myself. I found a venue, all right. But I doubt Luke will appreciate it since he seems to dislike every member of my family—the ones he's met, at least. Well, he didn't dislike my sisters as far as I could tell, though he made no effort to disguise the fact he thinks we're all insane for being Wiccans.

  If he wants to disabuse me of my beliefs, why can't I do the same to him?

  That's a silly idea, I know. Why should I care if he looks down his nose at me? I don't want to date him, never again. But turning his experiment back on him might be fun and illuminating.

  "Your cousin's what?" Luke asks, sounding genuinely baffled. "Is that the same castle where the wedding reception was held?"

  "Aye. It's called Dùndubhan, and it is the most secluded place you could hope for, if you're serious about wanting to go through with this experiment."

  "I am. Are you backing out?"

  "No. I keep to my word, unlike some people."

  He rests both elbows on the counter, his arms folded. "You're implying I lied to you at some point, but I didn't do that."

  "You claimed you loved me, but as soon as I told you about my beliefs, you ran away."

  "That's not lying. I changed my mind about you."

  "If you had loved me, you would've accepted me as I am instead of trying to change me."

  He studies me for a moment, one finger tapping on the counter. "I didn't try to change you, Kirsty. We weren't compatible anymore."

  "You don't know that. You left before you could even find out if we would still work as a couple." Why am I saying that? I don't want to get back together with him, and I don't want him to think I might want that, so I shouldn't care about what he did ages ago.

  "I'm a scientist," he says in a calm voice that annoys me for some reason. "You're a spiritualist. The two don't mesh."

  "Spiritualist? I donnae contact the dead." I lean toward him. "I am a Wiccan. That's a completely different thing."

  "How? It's all supernatural mumbo-jumbo."

  I decide to try a different tactic. "Do you believe in string theory?"

  "No, it's not a belief. I accept it as a valid hypothesis to explain the nature of the universe."

  "But no one has ever seen a string, and nobody knows if they even exist. The hypothesis is nothing more than the fantasies of scientists who pray for a theory of everything. Aye?"

  He goes perfectly still, staring at me without blinking.

  I wave a hand in his face. "Are ye conscious? Should I call a doctor?"

  Luke blinks twice, slowly. "You know what string theory is?"

  "Aye, the wee Scots numpty understands things only a brilliant man like you is supposed to know about."

  "That's not what I meant." He stares at me again, but this time he doesn't seem catatonic. "What else do you know about science?"

  "More than you, I'd wager."

  He snorts. "I seriously doubt that."

  "Do ye now?" I straighten, squaring my shoulders. "Can you name all the constellations in the sky? Do you know who Paracelsus was and what he was famous for?"

  "Well, ah…" Luke glances away. "No, can't say I do."

  "Soooo, the great scientist doesn't know everything."

  "That's not my field of study. I'm a psychophysicist."

  I could make a sarcastic comment about that term, how it means he's a psycho, but since I don't know what it actually means, I hold off on that for the moment. "What is a psychophysicist?"

  "Scientists like me study the intersection of matter and mind, though we usually refer to it as sensation these days. Fechner came up with the idea that we should study more than just stimulus, but also the sensation or response to it. Sensation, used in the context of psychophysics, is more of a hypothetical construct."

  "I see." Though he probably thinks I don't, I'm not as ignorant as he assumes. "Essentially, you're studying nothing. If the concept of sensation is hypothetical, then you might as well be praying to the sun for divine inspiration."

  "That's a ridiculous comparison."

  "Can you measure what someone feels? With instruments or scans or what have you."

  "No. It's a qualitative measure, not a quantitative one."

  "You believe sensation exists, but you can't prove it or explain it. What an individual test subject describes as a particular sensation isn't a true, objective measurement."

  He gawps at me again, though this time his jaw goes slack.

  Aye, a silly Wiccan like me isn't supposed to know about science. I should be dancing naked in the woods while praying for a demon to ravish me. The demon would be Luke, when he ravished me in the garden, but I didn't pray for him to do that. It just happened.

  "Let's talk about this later," I say. "Give me half an hour, and I'll be ready to go to Dùndubhan with you. Rory said we can stay there overnight, if you like, instead of driving back to Loch Fairbairn. The castle has four levels and lots of rooms to choose from."

  "Sounds like a hotel."

  "No, it's a museum. Well, parts of it are. My cousin Jamie and her husband, Gavin, run it for Rory and Emery, who own the castle."

  "Emery?"

  "Rory's wife."

  "I see." Luke pushes away from the counter. "Earlier, you said we'd have to fit the experiments in around your work schedule. Now it sounds like you'll be blowing off work to help me."

  "Not blowing off anything. I need to show you how to find Dùndubhan. And besides, my sister can fill in for me here."

  "Okay. Guess I'll go back to the hotel. Where should we meet up?"

  "At the Loch Fairbairn Arms. I'll be in the lobby in half an hour."

  "Sounds good. Thanks, Kirsty."

  He walks out the door.

  And I call my sister Isla.

  "Did that man do something to you?" she asks instead of saying hello.

  "No. Why would you assume he did something?"

  "Because I donnae trust him. His aura is clouded, which means he's probably keeping a secret."

  "Luke doesn't believe in auras—or anything, as far as I can tell."

  "Everyone believes in something, whether they realize it or not."

  I'd love to hear her argue that point with Luke. He thinks he doesn't believe in anything, yet he accepts that a hypothetical thing called sensation exists despite the fact he can't measure or detect it. I don't plan to talk him into accepting Wicca, but it would be nice if he stopped insulting me simply because I have spiritual beliefs.

  When I ask Isla to take over running the shop for a few days so I can help Luke with his experiment, she agrees. But she can't resist making sarcastic comments about what Luke and I will be doing all alone at Dùndubhan. The castle, according to Isla, has "gobs of places where two randy people can have fun." I tell her that's not why I'm going there with Luke, but she just laughs.

  "I thought you hated him," I say.

  "No, I don't trust him. I'll do a tarot reading and see what that tells me."

  As the oldest sibling in our family, Isla thinks it's her duty to poke her nose into every aspect of our lives. Logan used to avoid meddling like the plague, until he married Serena. These days, I swear he enjoys getting involved in the interference antics of the American Wives Club. That's the informal group started by Emery, Erica, and Calli—the American wives of my cousins Rory, Lachlan, and Aidan. Gavin Douglas, who married my cousin Jamie, is an honorary member of the club since he's American too.

  More of my cousins have married Americans since then, and even Logan married one. I love Serena like a sister, but I would never complain about who Logan chose to marry even if I didn't like her. Luke wants to interfere in my life, but he feels free to criticize my life choices. He could learn a few things from my brother.

  When I meet Luke at the Loch Fairbairn Arms, he's carrying his suitcases. "I checked out, so somebody else can have the room if they need it. Though I might be homeless if you kick me out of the castle."

  "Donnae worry, ye willnae be homeless." I pat his cheek. "I'll lock you in the dungeon if you get too cheeky."

  His brows lift briefly, then he follows me out to the car.

  I had stopped off at my house on the way here and packed a few bags. To my surprise, Luke does not comment on the fact I have luggage in the trunk. He just stows his suitcases in there and doesn't even smirk or lift an eyebrow. I guess he isn't assuming luggage means I want to sleep with him. Maybe I was the one assuming he would think that.

  No, that doesn't mean I want to do it. Absolutely not.

  The drive to Dùndubhan takes half an hour, and we gradually leave the main roads as the landscape becomes more rural and less populated. Aye, Rory's castle is remote. I hadn't exaggerated when I told Luke it's the most secluded place available to us. Back before Rory met Emery, he had wanted seclusion and solitude. Now, he loves to spend time with our extended family. The Ogre of Loch Fairbairn has become a happy, settled man.

  If Rory could change…

  No, I will not finish that thought. I donnae care if Luke ever changes into a good person because I do not want him back. Not ever.

  I steer the car onto the dirt driveway that leads to Dùndubhan. The forest forms a canopy over our heads, making it impossible to see what lies ahead of us, and the gloom also camouflages the metal gate that hangs open along the side of the drive. They must have opened it for us.

  "How much farther is it?" Luke asks.

  "Not far."

  "A mile? Two miles? It didn't seem this far yesterday. But then, that Alex guy ordered a taxi for me, and I wasn't paying attention to the scenery. So, how far—"

  "You sound like a bairn, asking 'are we there yet' over and over."

  He huffs. "I was asking a question, that's all. I'm not a whiny kid."

  "You've developed a thin skin, haven't you? I was teasing, Luke."

  This time he grunts.

  As the dirt drive transitions to gravel, the canopy of trees thins ahead of us. Little by little, the castle compound emerges from the forest like the ghost of Camelot rising from the ashes of history. Dùndubhan isn't a fairy-tale castle, though. The boxy design speaks to its original purpose as a medieval fortress and conjures thoughts of knights battling to protect their laird's domain. I don't know the full history of Dùndubhan, but I've always imagined it as the site of a great battle—won by the right side, of course.

  "Looks smaller than I remember," Luke tells me, sounding less than impressed. "And I think somebody forgot to shave off the sharp edges."

  He's trying to fash me, isn't he? By insulting my cousin's castle.

  "Sharp edges are good for chasing away the enemy," I say, as if I know all about how medieval fortresses were built.

  "Is there really a dungeon?"

  "No. I don't think so, anyway."

  The grey-stone structure looms over us as I drive through the massive wooden gates, which stand open, and into the courtyard. I lose sight of the square turrets. Luke glances around with a look of mild interest, though I suspect it's an affectation. He seems to feel that he needs to behave as if he doesn't give a toss about anything, and I can't help wondering if it's a defense mechanism.

 

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