TWENTY-FOUR
Isabel couldn’t get them to stop talking. Wherever they went, shopkeepers and restauranteurs, customers and diners were eager to tell her all about their beautiful village or town and the colorful and charming people who lived there. They were fiercely loyal to one another—a trait she greatly admired—and were proud of their country and their heritage.
By the end of Monday Michael and Isabel had fallen into a somewhat comfortable routine, but it took a while to get there. Before they had even started their journey, they had an argument. They were in his car, parked down the street from the auto shop. Michael had taken the key to Isabel’s rental inside and had a lengthy conversation with the owner. When he came out, he was smiling.
“You were inside a long time,” she commented. “What were you talking about?”
“Cars.” He didn’t embellish with the fact that they discussed her car in particular, and maniac drivers.
“I have our route figured out. As I’ve mentioned before, I want to stay off the highways and take back roads to Ballyloch. We could spend the night somewhere around there, finding a hotel where we could look out at the North Sea.”
He reached over, opened the glove compartment, and pulled out a map. Flipping it open, he handed it to Isabel. “Inverness and Dunross, you’ll notice, are northwest, and Ballyloch is northeast. You want to go in the opposite direction?”
“Yes, I do.”
She could tell he was going to be difficult, so she rushed ahead to explain her plan. “I want to get the lay of the land and a feel for the people.”
He didn’t understand. “For God’s sake, Isabel, we’re not on a sightseeing tour.”
“I need time,” she admitted with a sigh.
“You what?”
“I need time to absorb what has happened. I know I’m going to have to deal with it soon.”
Michael rubbed his brow. “Sweetheart, do you need to read what was on that flash drive again?”
“Why?”
“So you’ll remember there are people here who want to kill you?”
He couldn’t be more blunt than that, she supposed. She decided she would have to be honest with him, and if he then thought she was weak, that was on him. “So I’ll remember? I haven’t stopped thinking about it, and inside I’m freaking out. I need time to calm down and come up with a plan. I don’t want to go there scared. I’d like to get my fear under control first and if that means we have to take a roundabout way to get to Dunross, then that’s what we should do.
“You said you’d give me today and tomorrow, and you’d drive me wherever I wanted to go,” she reminded. “Don’t you want to know what’s going on up there, or would you rather walk in without a clue? I don’t even know who’s living on Glen MacKenna. I’m not going to rely on what Donal Gladstone tells me. I need to have all the facts before I make any decisions.”
“Who you’re going to sell the land to?”
“Yes,” she said. “People like to tell me about themselves. If, after they tell me what’s worrying them, I can steer them to talk about the MacKennas, I might find out what’s really going on.”
“Okay, we’ll do it your way, as long as you follow the rules. Remember, you don’t go anywhere without me.”
“I know,” she said. “I have a ground rule, too.”
Folding the map, he acted as though he hadn’t heard her.
“Michael?”
He reached over and put the map back in the glove compartment. “Yes?”
“I said I have a ground rule.”
“Okay. What is it?”
He was about to start the car when she said, “No hanky-panky.”
He burst out laughing. He didn’t think he had ever heard anyone say those words. He wanted her to say them again.
“Could you repeat that?”