Read Online Blue Bells of Scotland: Book One of the Blue Bells Trilogy by Laura Vosika - Free Book Online

that I went anywhere with Caroline."
    "I didn't mean...." Her hands fell limply from the hanger.
    "Flutes are a dime a dozen." He pierced her with a hard stare, long enough to make sure she understood, before turning to Caroline. She lowered her eyelids; a smile curved her lips. He stepped closer, letting his body brush the length of hers, and lifted her chin. Her smile stretched lazily. "Even first chair flutes," he said softly. His eyes bored into hers. He punctuated each of the next syllables, with an ominous decrescendo. "Do. Not. Hurt. Amy."
    He dropped her chin, stepped away, and addressed them both with his public bonhomie. "Rob's a great guy. I hear you had fun with him last night, Caroline." He turned on his heel, not closing the door behind him. That problem was solved.
    It was in his suite, with the blazing noon sun enriching every shade of blue, as Shawn re-counted the bills, that he found the new problem: a faint smudge in the ink on one of the twenty pound notes. His heart picked up an extra couple of beats. He'd seen such a smudge, once before, when he'd gambled with the wrong sort and been paid off in bad bills. He examined the note more carefully, holding it up to the sun.
    This couldn't be happening, not here, not now, not with a bad-tempered Scot coming for his money, and Amy waiting downstairs. He felt no great desire to be beaten to a pulp today, and even less for Amy to discover he'd lied to her. He pulled another twenty from the pile and compared the two. His heart sank. Such small details, but there it was. He studied the other twenty pound notes from the pawn shop. Two more were bad. Damn! Why did these things happen to him!
    He was so intent on his scrutiny of the bills, that the pounding on the door nearly jolted him out of his skin. It settled back, quivering, around his shoulders. He crossed the huge room in a few quick strides, throwing around plans. What if Jimmy noticed? Jumping out the window wouldn't do. He didn't have another sixty pounds to give the Scot. He needed his trombone. Telling the truth, with a promise to scrape up the rest by tomorrow would lead to a scene, prevent him getting his trombone, cause trouble with Conrad, and even worse trouble with Amy. There was only one answer.
    He shoved the bad bills back into the middle of the pile, smudged sides down. He threw the door open. Sixty pounds wasn't so much. His eyes darted from the large wooden case dangling from Jimmy's hand to the two large men behind him. The man was still getting a great deal of money he hadn't had before. Shawn greeted him with enthusiasm, shaking his hand with a big grin and a "Good to see you! There's your money!" The forgery was well done. Jimmy would never notice.
    "Aye!" The Scot grabbed for the money with his big, reddened fist. He dropped the case with a thud that made Shawn's stomach turn, and thumbed through the money, counting, while Shawn's heart hammered in his chest. He considered the distance to the window. The numbers added up. Jimmy saw nothing else, and broke into a grin. "Come play poker wi' me anytime!" he said, and shook hands again, in earnest friendship this time. The men behind him grinned and pumped Shawn's hand.
    "Any time!" Shawn said, and it was over. The door shut. He closed his eyes and heaved a breath of relief.

    * * *

    Amy seemed to forget whatever had been bothering her. Shawn's credit card and a small deli provided the perfect picnic dinner, complete with a new picnic basket. He ducked into a shop and bought himself a bell-sleeved shirt, a long, woolen tunic, leather boots, and a red plaid tartan to throw over his shoulder. His long chestnut hair completed the look. It brought a smile to her face. "No kilt?" she asked.
    "Those came later," Shawn said. "This is what we wore in the re-enactment camps."
    "No leggings?" She stared at his knees, hairy and bare, between the tunic and boots.
    He grinned. "I'm not wearing tights, no matter what you call them." Considering what the