A carriage—the old man at the train station had called it a brougham—with a horse. She’d never seen one, much less been in one, before today. She also hadn’t truly been away from home before either, but this trip to Scotland to visit Aileen had been one new experience after another from the moment she stepped off the airplane. This unconventional road trip at two in the morning to get to her friend’s family home was just another one of them. “American?” Startled by the deep voice echoing to her in the small, cold space, she glanced away from the window and into the depths of the carriage where the moon’s glow couldn’t reach. The man sitting across from her was hidden by the heavy shadows. Two hours ago, when she’d stepped up into the coach at the station in Crianlarich, he had already been on board with the lamp doused. He hadn’t responded to her small-voiced hello or the few attempts she’d made at friendly conversation. In fact, he hadn’t said a word in the two hours they’d been travelling together.
