A Time & Place for Every Laird by Angeline Fortin (reading comprehension books .txt) 📗

wi’ the Indian… I hae tae say, I dinnaeimagine that he is what a man from India might look like.”

“Oh, that. I should have been more PC andsaid Native American.”

“Ahh, the red savage,” Hugh nodded withsudden understanding. “I should hae known. I have seen somedrawings done when a group of them were brought to London long ago,but this one was quite beyond any resemblance tae the others.This?”

“It’s a can opener.” Claire moved into thekitchen to demonstrate the tool, giving Hugh a chance to repeat theprocess when she finished. “What did the hole look like? The oneyou fell through?”

“In truth, it happened so quickly I canhardly recall,” Hugh said, employing the opener on another can. “Itried tae jink aboot it but was too late. Is there truly nae waytae discover how I traveled here?”

“There might be a way,” she said, voicing anidea she had been toying with since their argument earlier aboutpressing Fielding for more information. “My brother is a bit of ahacker … he has some talent prying into things people like to keepsecret. He might be able to find out what Dr. Fielding was workingon. I don’t know what good it would do to know, though. I know it’shard to hear, Hugh, but I can’t even begin to promise that I canfind a way to get you back home.”

A shadow of sadness dimmed his features ather softly spoken words. “Aye, Sorcha, I ken what ye’re saying.Still, I should like tae know if only for my own edification.”

Edification?Claire studied her unexpected guest curiously. Hewas so full of startling contrasts that she didn’t know what tothink of him. Savage yet gentle. Ignorant yet inquisitive.Unintelligible yet eloquent. She could see that beneath hisanalytical exterior Hugh was more deeply troubled by his currentcircumstances than he cared to let on. How could he not be, Clairethought. God only knew how she would react in similarcircumstances. She supposed that she was lucky he was speaking atall and not still hiding in the closet, refusing to facereality.

Of course, Hugh—Highland warrior that hewas—would never hide. His reaction to her offers of help told herthat he was a proud man. He would face his fears head-on, andClaire found that she had to admire his courage.

On the other hand, what she perceived ascourage might have been nothing more a state of denial over thewhole thing. He had asked questions aplenty but strangely had notasked any further questions to test her knowledge of world history.Uncertain what emotions might be holding him back, Claire had sofar refrained from bringing up the subject herself, sure that hewould ask when he was ready.

“What are our plans once we leave here?”

“Get you to safety.”

“And then?”

“I haven’t thought that far,” Claireadmitted. “Out of the country, at least. Out of reach. Do you haveany thoughts?”

Hugh shook his head. “None beyond returningto my homeland as yet.”

“Do you have family, Hugh?”

Hugh stiffened at the question. On the fewprevious occasions she had questioned his personal history, he hadmerely held up another item for her to identify. This time, he onlylooked over her head at the mantel. “I overheard that agent saythat yer husband had been killed. Was he a soldier?”

Claire looked at the array of photos aswell, at Matt’s smiling face. Tit for tat. Her prying questionsanswered with the same. Well, that was one way to shut her up,wasn’t it? “I’m getting hungry. How about you?”

Taking over the kitchen, she cooked a simpledinner of fish, rice, and vegetables, demonstrating the gas rangeand microwave in light cheerful tones as she went along. While theveggies were steaming, she offered to get Hugh a drink. He rejectedwater briskly with a blink of disbelief but accepted a beer whenshe offered that instead. God knew she needed a drink as well.

Claire retrieved a bottle from the fridgeand showed him how to twist the cap off. Hugh lifted it to his lipsand took a drink but lowered it quickly with a grimace. “What?”

“’Tis cold and tastes likewater,” he explained, setting the bottle aside.

Claire considered him thoughtfully and wentinto her pantry to find the remnants of the six-pack of Guinnessher dad had left behind the last time her parents had come tovisit. Remembering that Guinness didn’t twist off, Claire wentthrough the motions of prying off the cap and watched as Hughsipped more tentatively. His grimace wasn’t nearly as exaggerated,and he took another, longer pull, which Claire considered a goodsign.

She finished cooking and they ate insilence. After discovering that the fish and veggies weren’t merelya first course but the only course, Hugh explored the contents ofthe refrigerator while Claire sipped a fortifying glass of wine andstudied him.

That heavy beard still covered most of hisface, so it was hard to tell what he actually looked likeunderneath, but on the surface, he still looked like some hulkingbackwoods lumberjack. The bloodied kilt was gone, of course, butsince Hugh was several sizes larger than her husband had been, theonly clothes she’d had that would stretch to fit him had been apair of Matt’s old Army sweatpants and a T-shirt. Matt had been sixfeet tall and a muscular 195 pounds. Given that his clothes fitHugh like a second skin hugging his huge body, Claire would wagerthat the Scot was at least four inches taller and thirty poundsheavier.

Through the thin cotton, every bulgingmuscle was evident, and Claire could see that there wasn’t an ounceof fat on him. While part of her wondered what he did for aliving—she imagined a soldier since he said he’d been fighting awar, or perhaps a blacksmith—there was another part of her thatwondered if she shouldn’t be more concerned for her own personalsafety.

A man that size could kill her in aninstant, snap her like a twig. That much was patently obvious. Hisvow to refrain from doing do so notwithstanding, her mother wouldcall her a fool for letting any strange man into her home. Was shein danger? Hugh had insisted that he wouldn’t hurt her, but wasn’tthat what all the best psychopaths said just before snapping theirvictim’s neck?

Plus, what she knew of Scotland’shistory—and Claire acknowledged that it wasn’t much—portrayed afairly