"They know who I am. And they don't know who you are. That's all it is - just nosey locals."
It still made me a little self-conscious. I had yet to see a single other black person in Scotland, although I suppose it wasn't that much of a surprise, given Castle McLanald's isolated location. When Darach came back to the little wooden table we'd decided to sit at he handed me a large glass of dark liquid.
"Here you go, Jennifer the American. To your first pint!"
We clinked glasses and he watched me take a small, tentative sip. I really tried not to make a face but whatever it was he had me drinking it was extremely bitter.
"Ha! Don't worry, we'll have your palate trained soon enough."
I watched him sip his beer, probably a little too closely I must admit. It left a mustache of foam in the stubble on his upper lip and my fingers itched to reach up and brush it away. It was a relief to be in the pub - the unfamiliar surroundings and new experiences took my mind - and, I suspect, the Laird's - momentarily off Cameron and the fact that she wasn't waiting for us back at the Castle, safe and sound.
The beer didn't just taste strong. Before I'd even finished half of it I could feel the warm, comforting fog of a mild buzz descending over me, making it even more difficult to take my eyes off the straight line of Darach's jaw or the burly width of his shoulders.
"You lightweight, you're not even halfway through your first pint!" he teased, grinning at me and taking a large gulp of his own beer, as if to show me up for the wimp I was.
At one point he got up to go the restroom and left his wallet on the table. I checked to see if anyone was watching and opened it up to see if I could find an I.D. card of some sort. I wanted to know how old he was and I didn't want to have to ask and possibly embarrass myself.
"Jennifer! If you need money, you can just ask."
Busted. I looked up at the Laird. He was grinning at me, sitting back down at the table.
"What do you want to know? How old I am?"
I nodded, cringing, as my cheeks and the tips of my ears got hot.
"I'm thirty-three, Jenny. You could have just asked - I may be an old man to you but I'm not quite over the hill yet."
I almost laughed out loud at Darach's "old man" phrase. He was many things, but 'old man' was not one of them. Devastatingly handsome, masculine enough for his mere presence to make my heart race - yes - but not in any way 'old.' The vibe he gave off was one of grown-up virility - a kind of sexiness that was all his own and nothing like any of the boys I went to college with.
I wasn't sure about bringing up my conversation with Mrs. Clyde and initially decided against it. Darach seemed happier at the pub but I could still sense the sadness underlying everything. He looked drained and I understood more fully why that was. What I wanted to do was get out of my chair, walk around to where he was sitting across from me and put my arms around him. It wasn't just because I wanted to feel his touch again (although that was definitely part of it) - it was the sense of helplessness, of being unable to do anything to truly make him feel better.
We chatted for a while but neither of the two elephants in the room - the kiss we had shared the previous day or Cameron's weekly visits to London - were brought up. The feeling that had been in the air between us at the Treacle-Eater's Tower was still there, but I could feel all the weight of the day on top of it.
"I'm sorry, I'm terrible company, I shouldn't have dragged you out here tonight, Jennifer."
Darach winced as he spoke to me, slowly turning his pint glass round and round in circles on the table.
"You're not terrible company," I replied carefully, trying to make sure I didn't say anything silly, "Everyone is in a sad mood, and everyone knows why."
"I suppose Mrs. Clyde told you everything?"
I was caught off-guard by that comment and Darach knew it.
"It's alright, Jennifer. It's no big secret, and you are Cameron's nanny - you should know what's going on."
"Oh, OK, well..." I stalled, unsure of what to say to the Laird.
"I'm not sure staying here all night and drowning my sorrows is a very good idea. What would you say to a drive to gaze upon our impressive and world famous local landmark?"
I smiled at his obviously sarcastic emphasis on "world famous" and looked at him properly for the first time that night. It was hard for me to look at Darach, because looking at him meant I'd have to look away before I started visibly staring and drooling and I didn't quite trust myself to be able to pull it off.
"Sure," I said, giving a little shrug that I hoped conveyed nonchalance, "what is it?"
"It's a stone, Jennifer. Just a stone on a hill. Some say the fairies put it there but it was probably just the Picts. Of course I'll need your reassurance that you're not the type of lady who faints at such exciting things as carved stones."