Love of Her Lives (28 page)

She stood in the doorway scanning the place — no Calum in the immediacy. Best fortify her nerve at the bar. The bar chairs were half filled. She slipped the jacket off her shoulders, hung it over the back of the chair and ordered what else? A whiskey. Just one to clear her head, well, it worked for Calum.

As she waited for her drink, she wondered how to awaken the spirit’s memory. And where exactly did that lie? Memories start with a sensory experience then are magically transferred to brain matter. That’s it. Better to define it all as magic. She should have majored in magic.

The bartender slipped a coaster across the bar and placed her glass in front of her.

She wrapped her hand around the glass. “Thanks. Do you know Colin Cunningham?”

He wiped his beefy hands on his apron, gave her a quick look–over, and smiled. “I do. He’s with the lads in the back. They’re wanting him to play a set tonight.”

Play a set? That was interesting — go figure the man had hidden talents. “What does Colin play?”

“Most times, it’s the flute, but he’s not half bad on the fiddle.”

She loved the flute. Her knees twitched.
Don’t buckle on me now.
He hadn’t played one heavenly note yet.

“Pardon me,” he said, catching the eye of a woman motioning him over.

Calum was somewhere in the back! She had to see him now. Leaving money on the bar, she scooped her coat over her arm, picked up her drink, and headed to the back.

The pub was divided into rooms, the rearmost larger than the front, with a different feeling, a nighttime ambiance, no windows. Beth counted six occupied tables as she stood in the doorway and checked the features of each occupant, quickly ruling out four tables of women and men too old to be Calum.

Would she recognize him? Yes, Finn said he looked much the same. Knowing he was close by sent her heart all a–pitter–patter. She headed to a table closer to the back. A raised platform was situated in the corner where instruments were being set up. She noticed the harp right away, make that harps, there were two. And more strings — a guitar and fiddle. Where was the flute player?

Tossing her coat onto a chair, she sat down just off the side of the platform. Not one man in the place radiated sensual heat. No crème–caramel hair, no sexy five–o’clock–shadowed jaw, no heavenly fanfare. Where was he?

She angled her chair toward the stage, leaned back and crossed her legs. An ice cube clunked against her top lip as she tilted the glass. Whiskey dripping from her chin — that’d make a fine, second first impression. She returned the glass firmly to the table and spent a few minutes wringing her hands. Calum lived there as a guy named Colin and had no memory of her. How bizarre was that?

“Ah, lass, you’re a bit early for the entertainment, but perhaps you’d be an approving audience for a wee practice.” The voice, smooth as cognac, had come from behind her then swirled round and floated down in a softer brogue than she’d expected, but with no less effect on her heart that promptly stopped.

“I’m not so adept, but they’re making me play.” His smile rose to his eyes and was ancient in its familiarity. He held her eyes as if he might have more to say; yet he winked and left her sitting there open–mouthed. Calum joined the men on the platform, a wooden flute clasped in one hand by his thigh.

The love of her lives was 10 feet away. How could she have doubted recognizing him? Every nerve in Beth’s body woke, purring like a million kittens arching their backs, rubbing against a leg, rolling over —
scratch my tummy.
It was a battle of will to stay put in the chair and not slip her hands under his shirt.

Oh, he looked good. From where she sat, she’d be hard–pressed to find differences, though she fully intended to examine him closer, starting immediately. His hair was the same crème–caramel colour but cut more stylishly, not as long. Eyes still sky blue, but younger somehow. Same feline shape to his face, square jaw, shadows under his cheekbones — clean–shaven though. The breadth of shoulders was not as wide, and he still had a perfect butt. Warrior didn’t come to mind, but there was nothing slick or urban about him either, rather he looked like a man of the woods, possibly due to the fine sawdust that clung to the hem of his pants.

Calum said something to a man with a guitar; the man looked over at Beth and nodded. She was the official audience now. The guitar was laid aside for a fiddle.

The fiddle player tested his strings with a few short notes. He started then stopped, and then started again grinning at Calum.

“All right then, here we go.” He launched into a quick and light tune Beth didn’t recognize. Then Calum joined him. The nimble notes snapped off the flute. He’s modest, she thought, sitting up straighter in her chair.

The two instruments complemented each other. Calum’s body moved gracefully with his music. His fingers flew over the holes and the look on his face was alive as the flute conversed with the fiddle. All conversation died behind her. She felt the vigour of the music down to her toes as her eyes trained on the flute player.

The last note sounded and Calum held it, his lips poised over the instrument until the song faded.

Beth whistled and clapped with the sparse audience. Calum nodded his head and looked over at her, his gaze warm, smiling and holding hers, holding …

“Never mind the flute, Colin love, come and play me, won’t you?” called a tarty voice from behind Beth.

Calum’s attention was diverted. Darn! Just when they were making eye contact. What kind of wanton women were they letting into this place?

Beth turned to see who had spoken. Yeck. A woman leaned against the back of a chair, a top–heavy, skinny thing with long bare legs because her skirt barely covered her butt, and short, black lacquer-like hair. The kind of bawdy look men noticed.

The sound of Calum’s voice drew her attention. “You flatter me, Lizzie, but I’m not nearly practiced enough for such an instrument as yourself.”

Good one, Calum, Beth thought.

“You leave your wooden flute over there, and I’ll teach you what to do with that mouth,” said the floosie.

“Now there’s proof that music charms the savage beast,” Beth said under her breath, but not so quiet to escape Calum’s ears.

He snorted a laugh and looked over to her.

“Ah, a newcomer. We should play for you, lass.” His eyes flicked so quickly up and down her body that the look–over was almost imperceptible. “You’ve surely come far to visit our fair land of brown heath and shaggy wood, no?”

She didn’t hear what he said to the fiddle player before he raised his flute. This time he played a satiny soft serenade, his eyes on hers, telling a stirring story. It was a good thing she was sitting. The long, lush lilt was a string of notes he played truly to unravel her. Minstrel vibrations sang deeply, intimately, not from the flute but from his eyes, from the melodious wave that ebbed and flowed between them. Did he feel it as well?

When his lips rose off the flute and the song ended there was no clapping, no noise at all, dead silence. The world shut down with only space left between Beth and Calum. It was humanly impossible for her to tear her eyes from his. Then he smiled and when the world came back she realised it had been there all along.

Now
that
was a connection.

He turned back to talk to the music men. Beth let her beautifully intense breath out. Now what? He would come over and speak to her, wouldn’t he? The old Calum would. She should have worn her hair up. No, then she would look even more overdressed. Lip gloss. He liked the sheen, hadn’t he told her so? She reached for her purse and unzipped. How could that tube get lost in such a small purse?

“Where are you from then, lass?”

She abandoned her search as her heart took off like a racehorse. She would die right there if she started panting.

“Canada,” she said, hoping the darn racehorse would trip.

“Ah, that’s why you caught my eye. I’ve a great love of Canada. I spent three years there after graduating.”

“Well, now that you’ve piqued my curiosity, you must sit down and tell me about it.” If he was still telling her about it next week, all the better.

He frowned. “I’d love to, but I’ve got something I need do to finish up the day.”

“Not yet.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you to play like that and then abandon me with my heart all aflutter. Who knows what trouble I could get into in such a state?”

“Oh?” When he smiled, she was ice cream on hot pavement. “I’d not thought about that. I suppose it’s a matter of duty then.”

Oh dear God, he was exactly the same. “I’m glad to see you take your responsibilities seriously. Just one coffee, then I’ll release you back to your work.”

Calum pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. They introduced themselves then he asked, “What brings you to Edinburgh?”

How she would like to tell him the truth. You, Calum–Colin. I came to pick up where we left off. But she said something rational and mundane instead. “Perhaps the same thing that brought you to Canada. I just finished school and needed a holiday. Things had gotten a bit crazy.”

“Bad breakup?”

She laughed. “You could say that. And you? Did you escape a crazed woman by running to Canada?”

“No, that wouldn’t be fair to say. So where in Canada are you from?”

They talked through two coffees. She learned he’d grown up in Inverness, and then attended the University of Edinburgh earning a degree in environmental geoscience. His parents had divorced while he was in university, and his dad moved to Edinburgh utilizing his woodworking skills to grow a successful business that Calum was drawn to when he returned from Canada. He loved working with his hands.

She wasn’t surprised. The Calum she knew was good with those hands, whether it be wood, or music, or lovemaking. It was the strangest feeling talking with him like he was new and old at the same time. The look of him was the only constant. Being with him was like uncovering secrets. She knew things about him, he didn’t yet comprehend. He was a stranger in her lover’s body, but then he raised a brow, or smiled with his eyes, and she was instantly with ancient Calum. It was a trial in self–control not to pull him to her and kiss him senseless.

“Where are you staying?” He pushed his chair back.

She told him the name of the hotel and address, barely holding back her room number and giving him the key.

“Since you don’t know anyone else in Scotland, I could show you around a bit, if you’d like an escorted tour, that is.”

“Yes! Definitely. I’m ready to go when you are.” Forget your old life, Calum, I’m here now. She willed it across the space between their eyes.

He chuckled. “Hold on, like I said, I’ve some things to finish up this afternoon, but I could pick you up tomorrow morning.”

Tomorrow was so far away. She tried not to pout. “Okay, I suppose I can wait till then. I’ve had a great time talking with you, Calum.”

“Me too, Beth, and it’s Colin, by the way.”

Shoot. That was going to be a problem. He just didn’t feel like a Colin.

“Sorry. You look so much like a Calum I once knew.”

“No problem. Let me get this.” He stood, reached into his pocket, and tossed money onto the table.

Reluctantly Beth relinquished her chair. He picked up her coat and held it up for her to slide into. For a second, she was standing in his arms. Warmth rose like a wave, her warmth, deep inside at the thought of him touching her skin at the nape of her neck. She turned to face him. Their toes were nearly touching. She was going to do it. She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. It was a quick kiss, but firm, one he obviously hadn’t anticipated as his response was a little weak for her liking.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she said.

He held her eyes for a moment, his narrowed as if he was on the verge of solving a great puzzle, or maybe he was thinking better of spending the day with a woman who kisses every guy who buys her coffee.

“My pleasure,” he said finally. “Is nine a good time to pick you up? Or are you jet–lagged? Do you want to make it later?”

“No.” At the mention of jet lag, she became suddenly weary. She checked her watch — five o’clock. Noon Canadian time, and she hadn’t slept last night on the plane. “I’m going to go to bed early, so I’ll be up in the morning.”

He waited for her to walk out in front of him. Now she felt foolish for kissing him. The man was incredibly attractive and likely had to beat women back with a stick every time he played that flute.

“See ya, Colin, love,” the floosie said as they passed her table. Oh, great. Now he’d plunk her into the general mass of groupies fawning over him. So he’d noticed her enough to play her a song and have a chat over coffee. Their time together had been pleasant, but hadn’t exactly been fireworks. And she pitiably recalled, he’d not wanted to chat — she hadn’t given him much choice. He probably couldn’t wait to be free of her.

“Colin,” called the barkeep. He held a piece of paper up in his hand. “Tiffany wants you to pick up these groceries and get home with them if you’ve a care to be eating tonight.”

Oh no! Tiffany? Who the heck was that? His mother? Right, that’s it. Lots of auld Scottish mothers are named Tiffany.

Calum retrieved the list. Beth would have moved if she could, but was frozen to the floor, her eyes wide and staring at the barkeep.

Seemingly immune to her paralysis, Calum checked the list as he walked past her. When he held the door open, she shook the zombie feeling and stepped out ahead of him.

“I’m off this way.” He indicated the opposite direction she needed to take. “Do you know how to get back to your hotel?”

She tried to relax her face, just smile naturally, she told her mouth. “Yes. It’s not far.”

Just as Beth regrouped her emotions, panic hit her. Oh no! She checked his hands — no rings. Thank God for teeny–tiny mercies. He wasn’t married to Tiffany. She’d never been the kind of woman who went after guys with girlfriends, but this was different. After all, she had the green light from an all–powerful elf — what other boyfriend snatcher could say that. Sorry, Tiffany, Calum is mine!