The Highlander's Time Read Free Page B

horses. Of Lila's friends who acted like enemies in front of the press, only a few would instigate this publicity stunt. As much as she wanted her supposition to add up to pay dirt, it didn't. Any person who read the tabloids or an interview knew Lila wasn't just addicted to vodka on the rocks but her preferred double latte with extra foam. Her friends wouldn't have gone after all of them, but to send the publicity stunt over the top, they would have spiked Lila's drink.
    Dammit .
    Her logic fell apart before Dudley the Delusion had dragged her to a chair and forced her to sit.
    The delusion's sigh broke over her. “Okay, I'm calm,” she told him. Just go with the flow until you figure this all out. That means, lie to Charlzie to keep her calm. You can't console her and get answers at the same time . “We have to ride out the hallucination. Eventually, maybe a couple of hours or a day, we'll be back in LA, and right as rain.” Watching Lila walk shakily down the stairs, Jenny licked her dry lips. Get your priorities straight. Number one, sober Lila up .
    “I always hated that phrase,” Charlzie muttered.
    A rumble of thunder rattled the shutters on their hinges. Folding her hands in her lap, Jenny took in the room. She watched a drip of water fall from the ceiling with the same slowness as a first tear did when tracing down a heartbroken child's cheek. “Me, too.”
    “You know what, Jenny?”
    “No, what?”
    “I don't think we're drugged.”
    “Just relax.” Forcing her fingers to ease their white-knuckled hold on each other, she snapped her gaze to the massive set of doors when they banged open. She didn't know where to look; Lila, who had just gotten to the chair in front of the hearth or the servant balancing a tray of ceramic cups or the guy dressed in outdated priest-garb waggling a recriminating finger at Dudley the Delusion.
    She listened to Dudley talk to the priest. Blinking in confusion when they walked to where she sat, she gasped when Father from the Past asked her a question in Latin.
    “Why are you here?”
    “My Latin isn't very good,” Jenny admitted. To think going to parochial school would actually do her a favor. Her pulse tripled when he frowned. Taking a chance, she switched to another language. “Do you speak French or German? I can speak both fluently.” She formed her statement carefully and spoke slowly, praying for a miracle.
    “I speak rudimentary French, too,” Charlzie interrupted.
    “Why are you here?” he returned in the romantic language.
    So much for exchanging chit chat . “I wish I knew,” Jenny explained. Laying her hand over Charlzie's to keep her quiet, she nibbled on her lip for a minute. Where to start and how to make them not sound like a bunch of escapees from the local loony bin? “We were in an office and this thing came out of the wall.” She stopped when the priest held up a hand. “What did I say?”
    “Hang on, Jenny, I think I have this pegged,” Charlzie stated. 
    “You do?” Will miracles never cease to happen? “Okay, what's going on?”
    “You know my mom was big on getting into her roots last year. She even conned me into taking a few classes in Gaelic before she took her trip to Scotland. She brought me back a kilt, but explained the dress wasn't popular until the Eighteenth-century.” Charlzie appeared ready to jump out of her skin.
    “So?”
    “We're in Scotland. They're speaking Gaelic.” She dropped her voice to a shallow whisper. “If their dress is any indication, and I'm remembering correctly what Mom told me about all the history she'd soaked up, this is the Middle Ages. We're in the past.”
    “No way.” Jenny shook her head. A re-enactment? Nope, the setting was too detailed unless they were on some movie set. That might make sense, but there wasn't any place for a live studio audience. A closed set? There weren't any spotlights or cameras overhead. Even if a frenemy had the money to accomplish this elaborate publicity