Finding Fraser(77)

“Not the actor. The man at the reading was a drunk. He was just here for the refreshments. He did know his movie trivia though …” His voice trailed away, and he tapped one finger lightly on the table as we sat in silence.

“Right,” he said at last. “Let’s talk about you. Sounds to me like you’ve found your Fraser. So—mission accomplished for the blog?”

I could feel myself blushing. I fought it down. “Yeah—no—I don’t know,” was all I could manage.

He smiled. “Oh. Sore subject? No need to be embarrassed. It seems to me you deserve a little happiness, after all ye’ve gone through to get to this godforsaken country.”

“Don’t say that. It’s an amazing place. I love it here. Did you read the post about the stone cairns?”

“Aye. That I did. And the truth is, I do hope ye keep at it—the writing, I mean. You’ve a flair for storytelling. Those cairns are a bit before my era, though I’ve done my time at plenty o’ Historic Scotland sites. I’ve more of a Middle Ages focus, I guess, so when I read your post, I learned something, and enjoyed it, too.”

“Hamish told me he thinks the pre-historic monuments are good for nothing except pulling down.”

“Ah,” he said, looking pointedly at something in his cup. “It’s Hamish, is it? So he’s the one, then? Ye’ve hardly been postin’ to yer blog at all since ye’ve made his acquaintance.”

I felt strangely tongue-tied again. “He’s—yeah, he’s pretty wonderful,” I said. “And anyway, I am still blogging. It’s just been slower since my laptop was stolen.”

He grinned wryly. “Hmm. I don’t know about that. It seems these days the content leans more toward a paean to the country than it does a description of your fella. Your fan base certainly seems to be demanding more details. I reckon they are ready to marry you off to the man.”

I snorted. “My sister is convinced that I’ve made them all up, just to show her that someone out there thinks I’m not crazy. Which—I would have, if I’d thought of it. But they’re just … I dunno …”

“Living out their dreams vicariously?” he finished.

I nodded.

He fell silent a moment, and we both sipped our tea.

“As long as you have found your dream, Emma,” he said, at last. “I mean, commenters aside, it’s your dream that’s important here.”

I looked up at him, but as soon as I did, he dropped his eyes. “Well, anyway,” I said, hurriedly. “We’re supposed to be talking about you. This is your event. Look at all the amazing books you’ve written.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Each one has had its struggles, no doubt about that.”

“Well, it doesn’t show. I’ve been borrowing your books from the library and enjoying every one.”

“Really?” His eyes lit up.

I traced my finger over the silhouette on the cover of my new book. “Yep. And what about that old lady? She has to be your biggest fan. Do you know her lips were moving when you read her favorite sexy bit aloud? She’s obviously committed the whole passage to memory.”

He allowed himself a half smile. “She literally is my biggest fan. She’s president of the Scottish chapter of my fan club.”

“See? I didn’t even know you had a fan club! I will join the American branch, for sure when I get home.”

“There is no American branch. There’s just the Scottish branch, and I’m pretty sure Mrs. McCarthy is the only member. But thanks for the thought.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m with Mrs. McCarthy. I like the sexy bits, too. Except …”

“Except …” His face took on a look I remembered. From the time he was trying to walk on a freshly broken foot. I mentally punched myself in the head a few times.

“Nothing—it was fantastic, really. I can’t wait to read the whole thing.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s not that big a deal, really.”

He opened his eyes again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make something of nothing. It’s just—I don’t know. Hearing how wonderful the book is doesn’t sell copies, you know? There is something I’m missing. Something that I’ve not managed to capture jes’ right. I’d like if a few more people wanted to read my books than just the sum total of the Scots fan club, aye?”

“I get that.” I thought for a minute and then plunged ahead. “I mean, I haven’t read this book all the way through, obviously. And I know your stories take place in an historical context where things were different. But I’ve kinda noticed that your heroines are always so perfect. Like, too perfect. They are gorgeous, they are sexy, they’re great in bed, and—well, like this one tonight was even a fantastic hunter. So they’re—not really human. The one you read in the book tonight is a goddess. But in the end, he still has to rescue her.”