My Seductive Highlander (9 page)

“You okay?” Lilia wafted the oil of peppermint under Graham's nose as he butted himself back against the side of the car, bent forward, and sucked in a series of deep shuddering gulps of air. “I was hoping this ride would be a little better for you but evidently I was wrong.”

Holy crap, she'd never seen anyone so prone to motion sickness. Her sister Kenna had always been queasy when they'd jumped across the centuries but she'd never been this bad with cars. Graham had turned a sickly shade of green as soon as she started the engine and he'd gotten worse at every turn. Thank heavens they'd only driven across town. The poor man would've heaved himself to death if he'd had to ride any farther.

Graham scrubbed a hand across the sheen of sweat covering his brow, grabbed the vial of scented oil, and fisted it under his nose. Snorting in a deep inhale, he closed his eyes and held it. His greenish pallor morphed into a vein-popping red, much like a time-lapse video of a ripening tomato. He blew the breath out hard. “I will be”—he shuddered, swallowed hard, and inhaled another deep whiff of the peppermint—“fine.”

Lilia leaned beside him back against the car, wishing there was some way she could make him feel better.
Poor guy. The perfect specimen of a hot hunky Highlander taken down by technology.
“You wait here and keep deep-breathing that peppermint oil. I'll be right back.”

Graham didn't open his eyes, just kept sucking in wheezing gasps over the glass vial as he waved her away.

Snagging her purse out of the car, Lilia hurried out of the parking garage, jogged across the street, and tested the door of the local pharmacy. No luck. It was nearly lunchtime and the drugstore always closed for an hour at noon. So much for the idea of getting Graham some motion sickness pills. The way the poor man reacted to riding in a car, he needed something a hell of a lot stronger than oil of peppermint.

She glanced up and down the street, hoping to spot a store that might carry the medicine—maybe a place of business she'd somehow overlooked during her daily visits to the hospital. Still no luck. None of the stores lining the busy avenue would carry what Graham needed.

Maybe the tiny shop in the lobby of the hospital? She'd only been in there once to buy Eliza a small vase of her beloved roses, but if she remembered correctly, there had been one wall dedicated to daily necessities. Back across the street she jogged. She didn't bother stopping to check on Graham. She could hear his retching groan echoing through the concrete tomb of the parking garage.

Hurrying through the quietly shushing doors of the entrance, Lilia slowed her careening pace to a much more respectable walk. No matter how old she got, Granny's voice would always be in her head telling her to mind her manners. A pang of loneliness slowed her even more. It had been too long since she'd last jumped back for a visit. She missed them all so much.

Her heart lifted a bit at the brightly lit interior of the gift shop and the glass door propped wide open for customers.
Thank goodness.
The pink-coated volunteers were there today and the store was open. Now to find poor Graham some drugs. She went straight to the cluttered square of glass countertops hemming in the cash register and an elderly volunteer deeply engrossed in the daily paper's crossword puzzle.

“Excuse me?” Lilia shifted her weight from side to side. She didn't want to be rude but Graham needed help and she needed to get him stabilized so they could get up to Eliza's room without him gagging his way through the hallways.

The silver-haired matron peered up from her folded paper, her ink pen frozen in space mere centimeters from the black and white squares of the puzzle. “Aye? Can I be a-helpin' ye then?”

“Do you have anything for nausea?” Lilia fished her wallet out of her purse and waited.

“Nausea, ye say?” The elderly lady pushed her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose and, in painstakingly slow motion, tapped the nib of her black ink pen against the blocks of the puzzle in front of her. “First off, I need t'ask ye a question. Four letters. Strongest power in the world. Ends with an ‘e.' What say ye?”

Lilia curbed the urge to drum her fingers atop the glass counter.
I've gotta be polite
. She had to respect her elders or Granny would reach through time and tan her hide. “Uhm…I'm not sure. Now about the nausea, do you have anything? More specifically, something for motion sickness?”

“Ends with an ‘e,' ” the volunteer repeated, frowning down at the crossword puzzle, her arthritic fingers slowly tapping against the paper.

Oh. My. God. Are you kidding me?
Lilia bit her tongue to keep from raising her voice. She had to mind her manners. Granny would somehow know it if she didn't. The answer easily came to mind, thank heavens—maybe if she helped the old woman finish that damn puzzle it would speed things along. “It's ‘love.' ”

“Eh?” The old woman peered up into her face, her thin silvery brows drawn together in a confused scowl.

Lilia pointed down at the puzzle. “Four-letter word. Strongest power in the world. Ends with an ‘e.' It's ‘love.' L-O-V-E.”

“Well, look at that. So it is.” The little old lady blocked the word into the squares with a happy chortle. As soon as she'd written the last letter, she laid her pen atop the paper and patted it with a contented swat. Sliding off her stool, she toddled over to the cluttered wall behind the counter and snatched down several pale blue packets. She deposited them into a tiny paper bag and handed it over to Lilia.

Lilia smiled at the kindly volunteer and took the bag. “How much?”

“Oh, not a thing, dearie.” The little old woman struggled to resume her perch on the wobbly stool and took up her pen.

Frowning down at the bag, Lilia opened it and looked for some sort of price on the packets of pills but there weren't any numbers to be found. She leaned over the counter, lowering her voice as she looked around. “I don't want to get you in trouble. I know these can't be free.”

The old woman looked up from her paper and winked. “Trust in the power of love, dearie. 'Tis the greatest power of all.” Then she bent back to her puzzle, softly humming under her breath as she slowly filled in the rest of the squares.

What a weird old lady.
“Well…okay then…thank you for your help.” Lilia tucked the bag into the crook of her arm and backed out the door.

“Think nothin' of it, dearie.” The old woman glanced up from her paper and smiled.

Lilia stopped by the alcove filled with vending machines, popped in the required change, and pushed the button for ginger ale. Perfect. Ginger ale and antinausea pills. Pair those with the peppermint oil and Graham should soon feel a lot better than he did right now. She snatched up the bottle from the machine and hurried back to the car.

Graham was still leaning back against the side of the car, bent over with both hands propped on top of his knees. He didn't appear to be retching anymore but he remained extremely pale. In fact, against the backdrop of his inky black shirt, he looked ghostly white.

“Here.” Lilia twisted the cap off the bottle of ginger ale and fished one of the pill packets out of the brown paper sack. “This will make you feel better. Swallow these pills then sip at the ginger ale.”

“Ginger. Ale?” Graham scowled at the bottle as though it held poison.

Lilia ripped open one of the packets with her teeth and shook two pills out into her palm. “Here. Put these in your mouth then wash them down with this.”

Graham frowned down at the pills, then lifted a leery gaze to her.

“Just do it.” Lilia shoved the pills into his mouth and handed him the opened bottle.

Graham obediently took a swig and swallowed. He held the bottle up, glaring at it with a narrow-eyed expression as he smacked his lips. “Tha's no' ale.”

“
Ginger
ale,” Lilia stressed, doing her best to keep from laughing. The poor guy had probably never come across such a sweetly fizzy beverage before. “Sip it. It'll help settle your stomach.”

Instead, Graham took a long draw off the bottle then thumped his chest and belched.

Lilia couldn't help but giggle at the surprised look on his face. “It's the carbonation. Sip it slower.”

Graham stood straighter, settling his stance as he squared his shoulders and took another deep draw from the ginger ale. “So, this elixir stops the illness caused by the wicked machine?”

“It helps.” Lilia took one of the pill packets from the paper sack and fanned it in front of him. “But these will help even more”—she scowled at the fine print on the back of the packet—“but they might make you a little sleepy.” Hopefully, he'd eventually get used to traveling in a car and get past the motion sickness. His previous pallor was already giving way to a healthy ruddiness.

Graham finished off the ginger ale then handed the empty bottle back to Lilia. Rubbing his stomach, he pulled in a deep breath. “ 'Tis much better now. I dinna feel the need to retch me insides out.”

“I'm glad.” Lilia stuffed the medication into the car's glove box then scanned the parking garage for a recycle bin. She twisted the cap back on the ginger ale bottle and tucked it into the crook of her arm. “I'll just get rid of this inside. I think I saw a recycle bin beside the gift shop.”

Graham arched a brow, looking at her as though she spoke in a language he didn't understand. And he probably didn't understand the concept of recycle bins and gift shops. Lilia wondered just how much Granny and Trulie had briefed the poor man on the ways of the twenty-first century. She waved him forward. “Come on. I've made Eliza wait long enough.”

Eying the massive brownstone building attached to the parking garage, Graham held out his arm for her to take. “What did ye call this place?”

Reluctantly, Lilia relented and hooked her hand through his arm, falling into step beside him. Her heart double-thumped. Maybe the twenty-first century could learn a thing or two from the past—such gallantry had become almost nonexistent. She nodded toward the bronze dedication plaque mounted beside the double glass doors. “This is a hospital and long-term-care facility.”

At Graham's puzzled look, she hurried to explain. “In this time, whenever anyone is seriously injured or ill, they stay here at the hospital where a staff of doctors and nurses do their best to help them heal and survive.”

“And long-term-care facility?” Graham repeated the words as though reciting foreign items off a menu.

“That's where people stay…permanently.” Lilia frowned at her own explanation, struggling to come up with the right words. “The elderly, the disabled or terminally ill stay in long-term care until they either get better…or die.” Lilia sadly shook her head. “It depends on their situation.”

“What of their families? Why do they no' care for their own?” Graham slowed as they approached the massive sliding glass doors.

“Not everyone has a family that can provide twenty-four/seven care.” Lilia pulled him forward. “It's complicated, Graham. I don't know how to explain it any better.”

Graham acknowledged her attempt at explaining with a curt nod. He stepped on the oversized black sensor mat in front of the hospital doors. The wide double doors whooshed open; the light atop the door flashed a spinning red and white at their movement. Graham jumped back, his eyes widening even more as the doors shushed back to the closed position and the light stopped blinking. “What the hell kind of magic is this?”

Lilia bit the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling at Graham's bewildered expression.
Gotta be nice.
After all, this was his first visit to the twenty-first century. She gently pulled him forward. “Automatic doors.” She pointed first down to the black mat then up at the tiny silver boxes fitted on either side of the door. “Motion and weight sensors in the mat and those two little—” Lilia flipped her hand, searching for the correct terminology—
they're not really cameras but what the hell do I call them?
A frustrated huff escaped her as she jabbed a finger toward one of the sensors. “Those little boxes ‘see' when someone walks up to the door and that along with your weight on the mat triggers the doors to either open or close.” There. Good Lord. Who knew explaining automatic doors could be so freakin' complicated?

Graham's disbelieving narrow-eyed look slid from the boxes atop the doors, down to the mat, and then back to her. “Magic?”

Sure. Why not?
Lilia nodded. “Yes. Magic.” Since she was neither an electrical nor an architectural engineer, “magic” was a much easier explanation.

Gingerly easing forward, Graham stepped to the center of the mat, flinching when the doors quickly slid open. His jaw hardened into a determined line as he squared his shoulders then hurried through the doors, whipping around to watch them as they bounced shut. “Amazing,” he muttered under his breath. He stepped back on the mat, staring at the doors as they slid back open.

“Wait 'til you see the elevator.” Lilia pulled him off the mat in front of the door so they'd stop opening and closing. “Wait here while I drop this in the recycle bin.”

“Aye.” Graham nodded without looking at her, still staring down at the wide black doormat then up at the doors. He tapped his toe on the mat and made the doors open again.

Lilia rolled her eyes. What a way to keep a thirteenth-century Highlander occupied. She hurried across the smooth marble floor of the lobby, turning at the first wide hallway to access the common area housing the gift shop and vending machine alcoves.

As she lobbed the soda bottle into the recycle bin beside the door of the gift shop, a strong cheery “G'day t'ye” rang out from within the tiny store.

A young girl, dark hair pulled back in a neat ponytail tied with a bow that matched her pink volunteer's smock, was busily flitting about the shelves, dusting them with a feather duster.