He nodded. “It’s a good plan. Trust me.”
“I do trust you. I just don’t trust the scientists.”
He squatted down beside me, and touched a hand to my cheek. His soft caress sent a shiver of delight through every part of me. “Don’t forget that, no matter what, you can protect yourself. The loch is nearby—use the power of it if you need to.”
“I will.” But if one of the scientists had a gun, then the loch wouldn’t be of much use. I sighed and pushed the thought away. What was the point of dwelling on such things? There was enough fear churning my stomach already. “We should go back and eat breakfast.”
“The second best suggestion I’ve heard for while,” he said with a smile. He rose to his feet and offered me a hand up.
I let him tug me to my feet, then, hand in hand, we left the shoreline and walked up the hill, waiting until several trucks rolled past before crossing the road and making our way back to the pretty little cottage.
Breakfast was waiting in a hamper near the door. Trae scooped it up, then lifted the tea towel covering the top and sniffed deep. “Ah, lovely.” He tugged the towel completely off. “There’s fresh breads, homemade jams, and something that looks suspiciously like lumpy paste, but it’s hot.”
I laughed as I opened the door. “That’s probably going to be porridge. A favorite around these parts, according to my dad, who hated the stuff.”
“It’s not something my clique ever thought about eating, I can tell you.”
“It’s apparently good for keeping the belly warm.” I opened the door and ushered him inside. “You want a coffee?”
“Yep. It may be the only thing that washes down the paste.”
“You eat it with milk and sugar, dope.”
I made the coffee, then brought the two mugs over to the small table. We ate breakfast in comfortable silence, the scent of the breads and jams mingling with the warm spiciness of man, filling my lungs and stirring hunger—for the food, and for him.
But as much as I wanted to give in to the need to caress him, to let my fingers reacquaint themselves with all that tanned muscle, now was not the time.
We couldn’t afford to relax now, no matter how good or how pleasurable it would be. The men he’d flown off to the wilds of Canada might very well have gotten to a phone by now, in which case Marsten and his men would know I’d either be here or be on my way here. Maybe that was even why they were packing up. Either way, we had to keep alert. Last night had been a gift—but we dare not steal time like that again.
I sighed softly then rose to grab another cup of coffee. “So what do we do to fill in the day?” I said, walking across to the nearest window and looking out. A green car was slowly making its way toward our cabin. I wondered if it was Mrs. Molloy, back to collect her basket. “And don’t suggest a horizontal tango. We haven’t the time.”
“We have all day,” he said dryly.
I gave him a grin. “Yeah, but there’s only one head alert when we’re in bed, and it isn’t the one with the brain aboard.”
He laughed, a warm rich sound that had my toes curling. “You could be right there.”
Outside, the green car had slowed even further, allowing me time to study the driver. It was a male, not a female—not Mrs. Molloy, as I’d originally thought. He was big, his shadowy features rough-looking.
The sight of him had trepidation racing across my skin. I might not have seen this particular man before, but I knew what he was all the same. A scientist.
I stepped to one side of the window, hiding behind the blue and white checked curtains.
“What’s wrong?” Trae said quickly.
I held up a hand to silence him, and listened to the sound of the approaching car. It cruised past slowly, not stopping, but remaining at a speed that allowed the driver time to look and study.
They suspected.
But how? Why? I wasn’t within tracking distance, and I hadn’t done anything to attract attention, hadn’t gone anywhere to be noticed. And yet that man was looking at this cottage, not at any of the other houses or cottages nearby. Just this one, and this one alone.
Could Mrs. Molloy have told them that two Americans were staying here? She might claim to hate the scientists, but the almighty dollar was a great incentive to overlooking such feelings. I wouldn’t put it past the scientists to be paying the nosier folks in the village to keep an eye out for strangers with an American accent. Which I wouldn’t have thought would be exactly scarce in a town that thrived on tourism.
The car finally moved on. I peeked out the window, watching until it had disappeared over the hill, then spun around.
“We need to get out of here.” My gaze met the blue of his. “That was a scientist cruising past.”
“Damn.” He gulped down the rest of his coffee, then rose. “Was he pointing anything our way?”