The Captain would have been in hog heaven, Emma thought with a chuckle. The old man would’ve delighted in emptying a can of gasoline on this particular fire. Considering how Jared’s eyes blazed, her grandpa wouldn’t even have needed a match to start things burning.
The best Emma could hope for was Snib being so disgusted with their presence he’d turn on the heel of his mucky boots and stomp out. But before the farmer could make his escape, the barkeep bustled out in a swirl of faded tartan skirt and stale lavender perfume that only made the stench of the fish more nauseating.
“Have you brought a treat for your Flora, you dear man!” The woman snatched the stringer of fish as if it were a dozen roses.
His Flora? Emma tried to register the words as the kids all around her giggled and nudged each other.
“Friday, isn’t it?” Snib said gruffly, patting an old tin can bulging from his jacket pocket.
His cheeks actually looked redder than usual. Windburn, Emma figured.
“Always bring the fish by on Friday,” Snib continued. “When you said you wanted it, as I recall.”
“But you never fail, do you?” Flora crooned. “Why, I can count on you regular as lilies at Easter, Snib MacMurray.”
“I can’t believe it,” Jared muttered in Emma’s ears. “The woman acts like he sailed on a log raft clear to the Amazon to catch them for her.”
Emma grimaced. “She’s obviously pickled her brains with too much good Scotch. Or maybe she’s blind. I’d better check to make sure Snib’s Flora didn’t miss any giant furry spiders in the bottom of my glass. One thing is certain.” Emma pinched her nose and pulled a face. “The woman’s olfactory cells must have been burned out years ago or she wouldn’t be putting Snib and lilies anywhere near each other in the same sentence!”
Jared roared with laughter, giving her a quick squeeze. “Well, we’ll not be letting anything spoil our evening.” He turned to the students. “Will we, mates?”
Cries of agreement rang from the pub’s oak rafters. Snib seemed to take it as a personal challenge, digging in at his table like a World War One doughboy in one of the trenches. But only Emma seemed aware of him as he munched on the fish and chips Flora set before him, his gaze following the older woman over the rim of his glass. Was it possible Snib had a soft spot for Flora after all? And if that was the case, maybe he wasn’t as reprehensible as he seemed.
Right, Emma thought cynically, and Snib’s collies had just been greeting Captain with an overenthusiastic hello that first day! The man threatened to shoot your dog!
Even so, she could test the waters, couldn’t she? What did she have to lose? Maybe she could soften him up a little, get him to let them dig on his land.
But she had to get rid of Jared first. An hour had passed before she saw her chance. Jared was laughing at some joke one of the soccer boys told when Emma noticed Sean fleeing toward the loo with a decidedly greenish cast to his cheeks. She nudged Jared.
“Don’t you think you’d better check on him?” she asked, putting on her worried face. “I’d go, but…”
“Poor lad would never survive the humiliation.” Jared slid his big body out of his chair with an animal grace. “Here, now. The rest of you—slow down, won’t you? No more shots or you’ll not be fit for work tomorrow. Davey, lad, tell Flora to break out her finest bottle of whiskey and some fresh glasses. We’ll toast our birthday lass once I get Jones settled, then it’s tonic and lime for the lot of you!”
“Take your time,” Emma said innocently. “No hurry. That poor, poor boy.” Listen, God, Emma bargained, if you keep Jared in that bathroom for a half an hour I’ll give up Reeses Peanut Butter Cups for a month.
The moment Jared’s broad back disappeared down the narrow hallway, Emma pretended to follow him. Once in the shadows, she slipped over to Snib’s table, the man finishing his own pint along with a malt vinegar-smeared chip.
“Mr. MacMurray,” Emma exclaimed with forced brightness. “Good to see you.”
“Well, it in’t good to see ye, Miss High and Mighty film star. Yer a pain in me backside, so ye is. So why don’t ye take yerself back over to yer own side o’ the pub.”
“It’s a free country,” Emma said. “At least, I’m pretty sure it is. You know, I think Flora over at the bar’s got a thing for you. I never guessed you’d be such a ladies’ man. But then, that just goes to show you first impressions can be deceiving.”
“Humph!” the old man snorted. Emma couldn’t help staring at his front teeth, which wobbled when he spoke. Yep. They were false all right.
“Whole village knows the woman’s out of her mind,” Snib grumbled but Emma caught a glimmer of something in the old man’s eyes.
“Of course.” Emma laid one finger along her jaw, considering. “It does make one wonder what she sees in you.”
“She’s after me money, she is.”
“She’d earn every penny of it putting up with you,” Emma said cheerily. “She’d also keep you a whole lot warmer in bed than all that cold hard cash.” An unfortunate picture of Flora and Snib doing the dirty deed flipped into Emma’s mind and she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Sex an’ loose morals! That’s what I’d expect o’ someone like ye!” Snib blustered. “But Miss Flora, she’s a decent woman, so don’t be filthying up her name talkin’ like the scum ye are!”
“Hmm.” Emma considered for a moment. “I’m not sure which you were most set on—insulting me or defending her. Better be careful, Snib, or you’ll lose your bad name.”
“Don’t be twisting my words!”
“Into something almost human? All right. We’ll stick to basics, then. You’ve got a rotten attitude, Mr. MacMurray.”
“Keeps undesirables away. Most of ’em at least.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to get rid of me. You don’t scare me a bit.”
“That so? You were shrieking like a baby over that mongrel dog, when I had every right to do away with him. But I’m not worried too much. He’ll get loose sometime, thieving devil that he is, an’ me an’ me collies will be waitin’.”
Emma forced herself not to think about how close Captain had come to courting just such a disaster. She tipped her head, seeming to give his threat consideration. “You know, now I’ve spent more time here in Scotland, I can see where a stray dog could cause trouble for a gentleman farmer like you. You have my word I’ll keep Captain under lock and key.” Maybe Jared has a medieval straitjacket tucked away somewhere. Yeah, that should keep Captain from getting away again. “Can’t we settle this thing like reasonable adults? I’ll keep my dog off your property and you…well, maybe you could be pleasant for a change.”
“Pleasant! I’ll give yer pleasant!” He made a vulgar gesture with his hand. “What do yer think of that?”
Emma feigned a yawn. “Listen, Mr. MacMurray, I’ve played to way tougher audiences than you. My grandfather—now he’s tough. Took down a whole gang of thugs back in my hometown. And when it comes to words, well, compared to him you sound about as threatening as an eighty-year-old schoolmarm.”
Snib swore a blue streak.
“Don’t feel bad that you’re not having the impact you want,” she empathized when he stopped to take a breath. “It takes a lot to impress me.”
“It’s harassing me you are!” Snib sputtered. “Just because yer a celebrity doesn’t mean I can’t have ye thrown out on yer arse!”
“But I’ll just keep coming back. See, I’m determined to finance an archaeological dig on your property.”
“What! Did Jerry Butler put you up to this? Hiding behind a woman’s skirts! I’ll see him in hell before I let him—”
“This isn’t about Dr. Butler. It’s between you and me. Frankly,” she lied, “I want the publicity for my movie and I’m willing to pay whatever you want.”
“And it’s all about money with you Yanks these days, isn’t it? Money and teats and arse. You tart yourself up and come over here, sure you can g
et your way. Think every man has his price. What about honor? Eh? A man’s got his pride! What would the likes of you know about either one o’those?”
Emma pinned him with the Captain’s glare. “Try me.”
“Pah! You’ve got all the spine o’ these worms here.” He grabbed the tin can from his pocket and dumped it on the table. The liveliest worms squiggled into the spilled loam to hide. He was trying to gross her out, Emma knew. But her grandfather had taught her to handle worms and snakes and anything else that usually made little girls scream.
She picked up the nearest worm and coiled it in the palm of her hand. It felt moist, crumbs of dirt still clinging to its skin. “Cute little fellow. But he’s almost dead. Now that you’re done fishing for the day I suppose you’re going to set his little buddies free. You being such an animal lover and all.”
“Animals are for food or work an’ that’s the end of it. You do-gooders should be grateful yer at the top o’the food chain, not complaining about us who take advantage of it.”
“Well,” Emma said, prodding the worm gently with her finger. “I suppose you could have Flora fry this little fellow up for you, but he’d barely make a mouthful.”
“I’d eat ’im raw, so I would! And many the more like him.”
“Emma?” Jared’s voice cut in sharply. The big Scotsman stalked toward them, his boots hitting the floor so hard the whole room shook. What had she called him when she first met him? MacTavish the Pissed Off Scots Giant? He was doing a great imitation of the guy right now. “It’s time for your birthday toast,” he snapped.
“I was just having a little conversation with our neighbor here,” she said sweetly. “Talking about how dangerous first impressions can be.”
“The man threatened to shoot you. I’d say that’s pretty clear as far as impressions go.”
Snib swore, but Jared continued as if the old man hadn’t said a word. “Let’s head back to the table. I’m buying another round. The best Scotch Flora has.”
“A Butler buying his own drinks!” Snib jeered. “Your ancestors must be heaving in their graves. They’d con the life out’a folks here to get their drinks, the Butlers would. Generations of ’em. But the blood’s too thin now.” Snib curled his lip at Emma. “Might as well be Yankee lasses like you.”
“They didn’t con anyone,” Jared defended. “They earned their drinks.”
“Earned them?” Emma’s question was lost in Snib’s cackle of derisive laughter. “How?”
“Singing mostly. And fiddling.” Jared was hedging. She could feel it. “Now, let’s get back to…”
“That’s a prettified tale!” Snib scooted his chair, blocking Emma’s path. “What about the rest o’ it? Tell her what you did when you were fourteen or so!”
“You could drink when you were fourteen?”
Jared stiffened. “I was with my da and…it doesn’t matter. Ms. McDaniel doesn’t want to know about any of this nonsense.”
“Oh, yes she does,” Emma said. Tension swirled around the two men, a Mexican standoff of mammoth proportions. She knew in her gut that if she left the field of battle now, before somehow piercing Snib MacMurray’s armor, she’d never get another chance with him. The crusty old man would make sure of it, just as her grandfather would in the same situation.
“What kind of talent did Jared use to earn his drink?” Emma asked Snib. “Singing? He’s got a lovely voice.”
Snib howled. “His voice was crackin’ like an old woman’s back! Sounded like a cat bein’ dragged through a knothole.”
“Damn it, Emma—”
She cut Jared off. “Did he do a little soft-shoe?”
“He took a dare to earn his drink, so he did!”
“I should never have done it.”
Emma looked from one man to the other, their faces livid, tempers hot.
“It was stupid,” Jared snapped.
“Aye, it was stupid all right, Butler,” Snib crowed. “Can’t wait to see yer fancy lady’s face when she hears what ye did.” He puffed out his chest, positively gleeful. “He ate a worm!”
“Oh.” Emma’s stomach wobbled. She fought to keep her attitude in place. “That’s a…a nice talent, too.”
Snib’s beady little eyes narrowed. “Yer not foolin’ me for a minute, lassie. You’d never have the grit to do something like that. Not near tough enough, with yer pretty little smile and yer dainty little—”
“Don’t say it, old man,” Jared warned, fist knotting, “or I’ll knock out the rest of your teeth!”
“Poor lass needs you to defend her? Way she talked, claimed she was made o’ pure steel. Well, she’s two strikes against her then, doesn’t she? Just like a pampered wee movie star an’ just like a Yank.”
Damn, but the jerk was jumping up and down on her very last nerve. “No woman, especially no American woman, would have the nerve to eat a worm. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Emma, for Christ’s sake, who gives a damn what this sodding fool thinks?”
“Yer lady friend does, ’parently.” Snib grinned with satisfaction. “Now if you earned your drink the way little Jerry did so long ago, well then you’d be earning my respect.”
“But Jared didn’t earn your respect doing that years ago,” Emma reasoned.
“He was too young and too stupid for it to matter. Lads that age, they’ll do anything.”
“But I’m different. Is that it?”
“Grown woman, with all yer fancy Hollywood ways.”
Emma looked down at the worm in her hand. “You think I’m too pampered. Too squeamish. That I wouldn’t have the nerve.”
“That’s the way of it.”
“Stop trying to bait her!” Jared raged. “She’s not about to fall for your—”
“Jared, this is between Mr. MacMurray and me.”
“Mr. MacMurray…” Jared sputtered in rage.
“This is all about respect, right, Mr. MacMurray? That’s what matters to you.”
The farmer’s grizzled chin jerked up a notch. Emma half expected Jared to swing his fist and knock it back down. “Nothin’ matters more to Snodgrass Begood MacMurray.”
Oh, God, Emma thought. That was his full name? No wonder the man was so crabby!
“Exactly how did…does one do it?” Emma asked, eyeing the worm dubiously. “Is there some trick to this?”
“Emma, don’t be ridiculous. You’re not going to—” Jared tried to grab her hand, but she elbowed him smack in the stomach, his breath going out in a whoosh.
Snib looked as pleased as if he’d done the elbowing himself. “People said the Butler trick was to stick the damned squiggler at the back o’ your throat and think o’ Bruce and Bannockburn. Then gulp a glass o’whiskey to chase it down.”
“I don’t drink whiskey, actually. The stuff tastes horrible.”
“Emm…” Jared wheezed.
But she’d already dodged his grasp, fetching her tonic water from among the glasses of whiskey he’d ordered for the toast. Jared’s students spilled off the chairs, realizing something was up. They trailed after her, jabbering among themselves as they watched with saucer-wide eyes.
Her thoughts raced. If she went through with this, Emma knew she’d damned well have gotten Snib’s attention. It would give her an opening, at least a chance to change his mind. But she would also have swallowed a worm.
No, she thought. Don’t think of it. Think of the stone circle. Sir Brannoc’s gauntlet. Think how badly Jared wants to dig there….
The worm stirred against her palm.
Maybe…maybe I can’t do this…she thought wildly. Wait a minute! She berated herself. She wasn’t some—some fluffy. She was the Captain’s granddaughter. A McDaniel. McDaniels didn’t back down.
Fixing her eyes on Snib, she raised her glass. “To Bruce and Bannockburn.” Flashbulbs popped, Veronica taking pictures in quick succession. In went the worm, down the hatch poured the tonic water, a fizzy gulp that all but choked Emma. She would not throw up. Would no
t. She’d die before she gave MacMurray the satisfaction. Instead, Emma leaned past the stunned Jared and patted Snib’s smelly cheek. “Have a nice day,” she said brightly. She walked slowly, deliberately toward the table where the empty toasting glasses stood waiting.
She grabbed the full bottle around the neck, downing its contents in blazing gulps.
“Emma, you bullheaded, daft woman!” Jared laughed until tears ran down his cheeks, the students all cheering—with the notable exception of Veronica. “You’re magnificent. There’s not a woman in the world like you.”
“Thank…God for that.” She choked, coughed, Jared smacking her on the back in an effort to clear her throat.
“I thought you didn’t drink,” he teased.
“Maybe…” Emma gasped “…I do…drink whiskey…after all.”
Chapter Eighteen
FLORA THE PUB KEEPER really should get her boyfriend Snib to nail down this floor, Emma thought as she made her way toward the bathroom. A person could get hurt with the hallway moving all over like a fun house at the county fair. Then again, maybe Snib had taken a hammer to the boards already to sabotage the place in the hopes that Jared would break his neck. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Now, where was she supposed to be going again? The bathroom. She was trying to find the bathroom.
No. They didn’t have bathrooms here. The W.C. Wasn’t that what the Brits called it? The water closet. Absurd name. But at least it made better sense than “the loo.”
There! She stumbled to a halt, triumphant. That was a water closet-y looking door if she ever saw one! She squinted at the sign, making out the letter. “G,” she said aloud. “G is for girl.” She flattened her hand and tried to aim for the damned thing. But her arm was stopped dead mid-shove.