Blue Bells of Scotland: Book One of the Blue Bells Trilogy by Laura Vosika Page A

brought one with him.
    Never mind. He covered his eyes with both hands. Amy had left him. Amy, the ever-law-abiding, had driven without a license. He smiled. A little backbone? It would certainly make life more interesting.
    A voice drifted up to him. He groaned. The tour guide. Wouldn't she have plenty to say, finding him here bright and early in the tower where he didn't belong. He pushed himself up, his eyes still clenched against the sun; the stone floor cool under his palms, and the sun golden-warm on his skin. He gave himself another minute, his head down against the swirling nausea. Then he opened his eyes, squinting tightly. There was the basket of bluebells that was so overpowering. He glowered, and climbed to his feet.
    He leaned his head against the parapet, but the floral scent wrapped around him. Voices reached out again, from far away. His head spun. He risked opening his eyes. There were no cars in the lot. Funny. Whose voices had he heard? He crossed to the east side of the tower, reeling as the rising sun speared his eyes. He raised a hand against the glare, and squinted down at the pebbly beach below. Two women, in full skirts, ambled along the shore with a man in a gray tunic. The water glittered under the rich greens of the mountains behind it. He swore. What was with these damn reenactors? Didn't they have a life, that they were out this early in the morning playing dress up? They really needed to join the real world.
    Ah, well. Time to get back to Inverness. In the light of day, he could do it. He turned to grab the picnic basket. Maybe he'd refill it and take Caroline up here. He stopped.
    It wasn't there.
    The basket in the corner curved up on the bottom, open on either end. Piles of bluebells lay lengthwise in it. He scratched his ear. He couldn't remember any basket, apart from the one holding the picnic. He turned slowly around the keep. That one wasn't there.
    The sweater? A dull throbbing grew behind his temples. It was hard to think without his morning latte. But he remembered laying his head on something soft. There in the corner—a dark brown woven...something. He crossed the keep and picked it up, shaking it out. One of the reenactor's cloaks. He screwed his eyes shut, seeking a path through the confusion. So they'd found him here already and given him a cloak to sleep on. Strange. He'd have thought they'd wake him up with a little annoyance. Oh, well. He'd go down and thank them and ask for a lift back to the hotel.
    But first, he sat down for just a minute, cradling his head in his hands. Just another minute to let the head-pounding and nausea quiet down. He wondered, for once, why he did this to himself, and whether it was worth it. It didn't even stop the dreams, anymore.
    A commotion erupted on the stairs, a flurry of female voices, a swish of fabric against stone walls, and the light, hurrying steps of a woman. He groaned. The floor shifted under him again. Time to face the dragon-lady tour guide. "Dh'fhàg mi an seo e a-raoir," said one voice. I left him here last night drifted lazily through Shawn's brain. "'Tis unlike him not to appear for the morning meal." Shawn rubbed his ear and shook his head. He was still hearing the Gaelic lilt from his dreams, although garbled and hard to understand.
    Two young women emerged at the top of the stairs. Young women? He scoffed. Jailbait, more like it. But oh so attractive, even if they were two more of those ridiculous reenactors. One hung behind, clutching a small wooden bucket. Dark hair hung in plaits down the back of her plain brown dress. Plaits? Shawn thought. Where did I get that word? She kept her eyes on the floor. The one in front—now there was a force to be reckoned with. Fiery red hair shimmered around her face; blue eyes flashed. Freckles danced across her pale skin. A fine blue kirtle emphasized a small waist and fell to her toes.
    "There you are!" she burst out.
    To Shawn, it was an explosion. "Turn down the volume, will you?" he