The Highlander

This bright and early morning was no different than any other. As usual, Tessa had chosen to spend it by returning to the same café, situated just four blocks from her lofty flat in West London, and drinking the usual cup of Americano coffee. She sat, for the most part, unnoticed in a corner of cozy café, which was just as she preferred whilst she struggled to pen a continuance of her book on a laptop. The ongoing novel was a mix betwixt fantasy and futuristic genres – the two that had always intrigued her own interests. Her attempt at said novel had been a ritual performed every week day for the prior nine months, all during morning hours spent at the same café.

In addition to the writing, each day while visiting the café, Tessa looked forward to seeing the stranger who also stopped by the establishment each day and wore a trench coat. He arrived each morning at precisely nine o'clock on the dot. Without fail and no matter the weather, he was always garbed in the trench coat. Regardless, he cut quite the impressive figure - ever handsome and confident in his attire, appearance, and demeanor. He had not once ever glanced her way but from where she sat tucked away in a discreet corner, Tessa could watch him at her leisure. Whatever was beneath the trench coat he wore, she could not help but wonder, her mind running rampant with an array of possibilities. Wearing the trench coat day after day, rain or shine, he was an enigma and most certainly one that fascinated her overactive musings in every imaginable way.

Thirty-two years earlier at birth, Tessa had been named after a female character in a long running series by the name of “Highlander”. It was one with her mum had always watched and as a result, Tessa had grown up watching reruns of it over the years too many times to recall. Interestingly enough, the lead male in the series had frequently worn a trench coat, the better to mask his true identity – or rather, his need to carry a hidden, gleaming sword. It was a fantasy-based show and the lead character had been characterized as an immortal being, originally born in the late 1500’s though living in current day. His only way to succumb to death was with a beheading, so the magnificent sword hidden beneath his coat was the means which enabled him to be at the ready to fight for his life and the lives of those whom he loved since they might also be threatened.

Duncan McLeod, of the Clan McLeod - a ruggedly handsome and fierce warrior with a Scottish brogue to could charm the skirts off of any lass. Tessa’s memories were filled with lingering, dramatic images of the character whenever she saw the stranger who frequented the café. Was this man in the trench coat like Duncan MacLeod and hiding something similar to a sword beneath his coat that could be used to save the day? Much as she would have liked it to be so, Tessa fully realized that such thoughts were absurd and likely questioned her mental stability. This was the ordinary world and not some sci-fi, futuristic feature. She managed to scoff at her own wayward imagination. Bloody hell, what a crazy thought! Duncan MacLeod indeed!

The door’s entrance bell sounded, alerting of a new customer, and Tessa looked up to see him, the man about which she’d been fantasizing, enter. It was nine o’clock. He was right on time, as to be expected. She shifted slightly in her seat as she pulled her hair forward so that it draped across her face better to ensure she wasn't easily noticed while watching him. She had no desire whatsoever to be seen, especially while preoccupied with such ludicrous thoughts. There was no denying, however, just how handsome the man was – so very much akin to Duncan MacLeod, and the trench coat he wore only served to add to his overwhelming allure.

She heard the quiet, indistinguishable murmur of his deep voice as it drifted across the air when he ordered. Most likely his usual, she thought though she didn’t know what it was he drank each day. She imagined he preferred an espresso con panna. This coffee was a strong, rich, well-balanced, smooth, and delectable one with a touch of cream to enrich its depth of flavor. It was a heavenly brew, so it was more than likely the drink would suit him. With this thought, her mind evolved, turning to a strong, well-balanced, and developed body clad in a kilt beneath the long trench coat. What an utterly enchanting and tantalizing thought.

There was a loud clatter as a server nearby dropped a cup and saucer. Tessa was abruptly brought out of her dream wrought fantasy. Unbidden, though no one knew what she had been thinking, embarrassment flooded and her cheeks turned a bright shade of red. She stole a quick glance at the counter to find the man was picking up his order and turning to leave. Thankfully, he had not noticed. In pretense, she lowered her head, pretending to read what words were not to be found on the laptop, and finding a measure of comfort in the shield her long hair provided.

Click, click, click. The sound of someone’s footsteps on the glistening hardwood floor approached, growing steadily louder until Tessa could see Italian leather shoes pausing and standing directly beside her table. In surprise, she quickly looked up to find none other than the stranger, a bemused smile upon his handsome visage. Without asking or further ado, he placed a cup of steaming, freshly brewed coffee on the table before her. His bemused expression broadened into a full, gleaming white grin. Oh, but it was a glorious smile, too, just as she’d suspected it would be.

“Good morning. I hope your writing is going well today. I believe Americano is your drink of choice, is it not?” he added with a playful wink. “Please. Enjoy. The coffee’s my treat, Tessa.”

Startled and completely thrown by his choice of words – and more so, the fact he’d known her name – Tessa could only stare back in her complete confusion and utter bewilderment.

The handsome stranger in the trench coat appeared oblivious, however, to her stunned look of surprise as he turned on his heel, preparing to leave. Of a sudden, he paused and spun back around, and Tessa could not but help think it was a look of pure devilment she saw playing upon those handsome, firm lips.

“The name’s Duncan - Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. It’s a pleasure to meet you, lass.”