“Red, inflamed toes?” I explain. “Never mind. I’lljust Google it later—uh, I mean, go ask the local healer about it.”
Fiona looks utterly confused at this point. “Google?”
Fuckity! I am one big fat fail at fitting in. I pull my lips between my teeth to stop myself from saying anything else. Thankfully, Cal jumps in again before I dig deeper into this hole.
“An old Gaelic term,” he explains easily, almost making me believe him. “Means to seek wisdom.”
“Ah. Well, if you’re seeking a healer’s relief, my sister Elspeth might have something for yer feet,” Fiona offers after processing this new information.
“Thank you,” I tell her as she leaves us. When she’s out of the room, I shoot Cal a look of thanks.
He leans in closer and grins at me, clearly amused by our predicament.
“Anytime, Mills,” he whispers. “Perhaps ye could avoid the 21st-century lingo from now on, yeah?”
“I’ll try,” I scrunch my nose and wince at myself internally, diving back into my porridge with a newfound determination. Half a second later, I’ve come up with a witty comeback.
“So it’s adios to smartphones, farewell to avocado toast, and au revoir to skinny jeans.”
“That’s cute,” he chuckles, his expression relaxing. “Now, tuck in. We’ve got a daunting day of not messing up history ahead of us.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The 1645 fairexplodes into life smack dab in the middle of Aven Valley’s town square. It’s the Highlands’ summer crown jewel, drawing in crowds from all over Inverness like bees to a blooming flower. Stalls burst with color, each showcasing local craftsmanship that’s as inventive as beautiful.
At one end, bakers flaunt their freshly baked loaves, their crusts crackling invitingly. The warm scent mingles with the sweet aroma of sugar-dusted pastries wafting through the air. Not too far away, a round-bellied cheese monger is strutting his stuff with wheels of spicy cheese that look so yummy they should be illegal.
A little further off, blacksmiths are putting on a show, their brawny arms hammering molten metal into intricate ironworks. Sparks fly from their anvilslike tiny fireworks against the smoky backdrop of their stalls.
In between these entrepreneurial spirits are entertainers adding spice to the buzzing celebration. Minstrels pluck at lutes while jesters tumble and juggle in bright costumes. Dancers spin around in vivid skirts, creating a parade of color, and when the drum beat fills the air, I’m utterly mesmerized.
“Cal,” I whisper, awe-struck by this magical spectacle that feels more familiar than foreign. “It’s like... like coming home.”
He stops dead in his tracks and turns to face me with a smile that makes my heart flip-flop in my chest.
“Aye,Teine’na broinn,” he says gently, wrapping my nickname around me like an embrace. “Your roots run deep here, too. This place... it’s part of who we are.”
In one swift move, he sweeps me into his arms and spins us around to match the beat of the music. My blouse billows around us like a cloud caught in an updraft, and when he lifts me high, I feel as light as air.
“Do you think there’s more of your family tree in this early-modern era crowd?” I ask as we sway to the soft music.
“I remember my Da talking about a Fergus who could be my three-times removed great-grandfather, which would make Alistair a distant uncle,” he muses,eyes shining. “And ye know what? I see bits of myself in them—especially the stubborn streak.”
I laugh at that. “Ah yes, the infamous MacDowell stubbornness your mom warned me about!” I tease, grinning up at him. “It’s amazing you’re still single after all these years, Cal.”
He stops mid-dance step, his grin turning devilish like he knows something I don’t.
“Who said anything about being single?”
I smirk, giving him a playful nudge.
“But really, Mills,” Cal continues, a little softer. “Between tending to the farm and heading my sailing club, romance hasn’t exactly been on my schedule. The women I’ve encountered seem to want more than I can offer...” His voice fades into a thoughtful silence.
“So now wanting commitment makes women high-maintenance?” My hands instinctively find their way onto my hips.
Cal’s chuckle softly bounces around us. “Not all... just those who have wandered into my life so far.” He pauses for a breath.
“Then there’s you—incredibly independent and free-spirited. How on earth has no man managed to win your heart yet?”
