Highland Tides
“He was heartsick that his plan to return to Charlotte had evidently gone awry. He felt immediately for the amber stone, relieved when his hand closed over the precious gem.
The few bedraggled men who ambled by gave him a wide berth. Their mode of dress confirmed his suspicions he hadn’t made it to the year 1746. The odors were different too. He got to his feet and wandered to the front of the dilapidated structure. A roughly made sign clinging to a strip of wood over the door proclaimed it as A...inslie’s Tavern. No wonder folks were anxious to avoid him. They thought he was a drunkard.
The name struck a cord. Something Charlotte had told him concerning one of the Stewart monarchs. But which one? Her love of history had shone through in their many conversations. He missed his wife keenly and wondered how she fared. She’d be distraught he hadn’t returned.
He tried the door, disappointed when it failed to open. A draught of fine ale wouldn’t go amiss. This drowning business was thirsty work.MoreLess
The few bedraggled men who ambled by gave him a wide berth. Their mode of dress confirmed his suspicions he hadn’t made it to the year 1746. The odors were different too. He got to his feet and wandered to the front of the dilapidated structure. A roughly made sign clinging to a strip of wood over the door proclaimed it as A...inslie’s Tavern. No wonder folks were anxious to avoid him. They thought he was a drunkard.
The name struck a cord. Something Charlotte had told him concerning one of the Stewart monarchs. But which one? Her love of history had shone through in their many conversations. He missed his wife keenly and wondered how she fared. She’d be distraught he hadn’t returned.
He tried the door, disappointed when it failed to open. A draught of fine ale wouldn’t go amiss. This drowning business was thirsty work.MoreLess
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