Echoes of Edinburgh (2 page)

“I see.” She didn't, really, but managed a small smile. “I'll look forward to seeing you both tomorrow.” With a murmured good-bye, Shelby departed, aware the men watched. As the sound of their voices grew faint, she retraced her steps, being mindful of the still somewhat slippery walkway. A few hundred yards away, she sensed movement behind her.

“Shelby, wait up. Can we talk for a minute?”

Harrison
. She'd only just met the man yet she'd know that voice anywhere. How odd. She glanced over her shoulder and drew in a quick breath when she spied the long-stemmed, yellow rose he carried. Walking toward her, he filled her range of vision, exuding a confidence that was masculine and swoon-worthy. She'd always rued that silly description—one the women in her office bandied about when discussing the latest hunk-of-the-moment actor—but Harrison effortlessly earned the title. The ladies would have an absolute field day with this man.

Shelby gasped as her right foot slid out from beneath her. Skidding forward, she flailed her arms like a fledgling leaving the nest. But instead of soaring, she was going down fast, and it was
not
going to be pretty.

So much for six years of ballet lessons.

 

 

 

 

2

 

Harrison rushed forward. Moving one hand around Shelby's waist, he pulled her against him. Almost hip-to-hip close. Goodness, he was solid muscle. She couldn't help but breathe in his masculine soap-and-water clean scent. At least he didn't wear an expensive, cloying cologne. Those only made her sneeze and her throat itch. His gallant heroics kept her upright, never mind that her pride was now splattered all over the walkway. Putting one hand over her chest, embarrassed, Shelby took a couple of deep, calming breaths. “Well, that was fun.”

“Are you all right?” Steadying her, Harrison's brows knit together. “If I let go, you're not going to fall, are you?”

Her laugh came out an unladylike grunt. “Yes, thanks. I mean, I'm fine and it's safe to let go. I think. Why don't we try it and see what happens?” Averting her gaze as he released her, a flush warmed her cheeks. “I should buy you a cape and call you Captain Hand...” She cleared her throat. “That's, um, Captain Harrison.”

Good thing she wasn't in a room full of potential clients, or she'd be a discredit to her profession. Never in her life had she been so inarticulate. Or clumsy.

Old Edna Pinson would be shocked by her appalling lack of social graces. After all, any young lady of fine breeding in Lexington who'd attended Edna's House of Charm should know the proper manner to recover from a near-fall with grace or the dignified, if not subtle, method of falling—or was it swooning?—into the arms of a handsome man.

Harrison leaned forward and captured her eye contact. “Shelby? Still with me?”

She lowered her gaze and smoothed one hand down the front of her khaki skirt. For once in her life, she wished she wasn't wearing something so absolutely utilitarian. Even her simple, white sleeveless blouse was as plain and boring as they come. “I might be suffering from a little jet lag. Or the change in altitude, atmospheric conditions...I don't know.” She shrugged. “Something like that.”

Suffering the effects of Harrison Reed was more like it. Maybe she'd been cooped up too long in her office and needed the break more than she'd realized. This was also why she never flirted. When it came to engaging gorgeous men in conversation, she was much more competent in a business setting.

“Who's Edna Pinson?”

“Excuse me?” She'd voiced that thought aloud? Harrison's hearing must be uncommonly sharp. Chewing the inside of her cheek, Shelby pushed aside a long strand of hair whipping across her face in the warm, mid-July breeze.

“You said Edna Pinson. Right before you mumbled something about charm.” The corners of his mouth twitched. “Something like that.”

“Oh,” she said, tucking the wayward hair behind one ear. “I was giving thanks for not”—she searched her mind for something resembling coherency—“having a…head full of pins.” With that comment, he probably questioned her intelligence, and she couldn't blame him. Next he'd tell her he'd need to cancel for lunch tomorrow.

“Do you normally have a head full of pins? If that's the case, I trust you're talking about in your hair and not actually inside…” His grin widened as he pointed to his head.

Laughter bubbled up inside her. What an insipid conversation. “No pins involved. Promise. Edna Pinson ran a charm school I attended once upon a time. Goes without saying I'm a classic dropout.”

“I thought charm schools went out of vogue a century ago, but you're doing a fine job of it.”

She couldn't resist. “It?”

“The charm factor.”

Shelby was still trying to formulate a response when, in one smooth action, Harrison scooped the rose from the ground and presented it to her with a small bow. When she accepted it, he wrapped his hand around hers for the briefest of moments. As if he wasn't distracting enough, Harrison's warm, gentle touch proved far more dangerous than the slippery walkway. “Robert asked me to give you this rose in honor of your mother. Said he used to call her Katie Rose.”

Shelby tamped down a swell of emotion. Robert must have known Mama pretty well to know she'd always preferred yellow roses over the traditional red—the color used for the Harmony Lane logo and the floral garlands draped around the necks of Kentucky Derby-winning thoroughbreds, four of which had been bred at Harmony Lane.

“How thoughtful of Robert. Thanks for bringing it to me.” She brushed one finger over a velvety soft petal, exquisite in its perfection. While she appreciated Robert's sentiment, a faint twinge of disappointment pinched her. No sense in pondering the reasons why. “Isn't it illegal to pick a rose from the palace gardens?” she said, inhaling the flower's lovely fragrance.

Seeing Harrison's skeptical glance, Shelby hastened to explain. “Take the national forests in California, for example. If you carry pine cones off the protected grounds, it's considered stealing and an offense punishable by law.” She lifted her shoulders. “Same theory, I should think.” She was only digging herself in deeper.

Harrison widened his eyes and slapped a hand on one cheek. “Don't tell me you've done time for”—he mock-gasped—“pine cone theft? I'm shocked to my very core.”

Shelby couldn't remember the last time she'd giggled, but it was freeing. Fun. “Guilty, but I paid my debt to society. And you've obviously spent time on the stage.”

“Guilty, but I was horrible at it. I'd rather be stealing pine cones. In the case of your rose, since Robert's the one doing the plucking, I doubt the castle police will hunt us down. I hope you noticed I had the foresight to de-thorn it.”

“I did, and thanks. Smart thinking. Tell me something,” she said, resuming her walk with Harrison by her side. “Why would anyone plant a palace garden on such a slippery slope?”

“I don't really know, but the castle sits on Castle Rock, an extinct volcano. Its location was very advantageous during military sieges. You should check out the Princes Street Gardens while you're here. It's very popular with tourists and a lot less treacherous.”

“I need to catch up on my reading about Scotland, but I have the feeling I could learn a lot from you.” Now she sounded like a tourist? Hopefully that comment didn't come across like an invitation. Her mistake was sneaking a peek at Harrison's profile to gauge his reaction.
Oh, no
. Again, her foot slid forward, catching her unaware. The saving grace this time was stumbling forward.

With a small cry, Shelby landed with her full weight on her right hand, splayed in the grass. “Not one word,” she said. Humiliation burned her from the inside out. It seemed she hadn't broken or sprained anything. Small consolation.

To his credit, Harrison remained silent as he helped Shelby to her feet and retrieved her purse. After drying it with the bottom of his shirt, he handed it over. “Here you go. No harm done.”

“My pride would disagree, but I suppose a decent fall from grace keeps a girl humble.” Shelby slung her purse over one shoulder and tried to be as discreet as possible as she brushed her damp hand over the side of the skirt. “For the record, these are new shoes. I think they should come with a warning against walking around a castle. In Scotland. On a slope. After the rain.” She lifted her chin. “If you think that was something, you should see what I can do in heels.” She needed to stop talking.

“I'm sure it'd be entertaining, but if it's all the same to you, I'll escort you wherever you're going next.” A speeding train on the nearby railway muffled the last part of his statement, but when Harrison offered his arm, Shelby accepted with a grateful smile.

“My rental car's parked a few streets over.” Together they crossed the bridge behind a band stand. As they walked, Harrison asked about her work. Relieved for a comfortable subject, Shelby relaxed even while she hoped she didn't bore the man to death.

“It's obvious you care about the individuals behind your accounts,” Harrison said. “I hope they understand how blessed they are to have you managing their money.”

“My clients value my services as long as I don't
lose
their money,” she said. “I work hard to ensure that doesn't happen.” To her own ears, that statement sounded borderline pompous and self-aggrandizing.

Harrison had paid her a lovely compliment, and she should act appropriately thankful. When she slid a little, he tightened his hold on her. How long had it been since a man younger than fifty had demonstrated such chivalry? So long, she couldn't begin to recall.

“I hope you take time to do the things that make
you
happy, Shelby.” After asking her which direction the car was parked, with a light hand on her elbow, Harrison guided her to a quieter side street. He dropped his hand when they reached more level ground. “Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I didn't intend to trespass on any personal boundaries.”

“You didn't,” she said, wanting to reassure him. “I don't mind, but since it's not really a question, I reserve the right not to answer.”

Harrison narrowed his eyes. “Actually, I think you just did.”

They stopped walking and stared at one another for a long moment. Shelby lowered her gaze first and started again toward the car, now within sight. Dissecting her life with a virtual stranger wasn't on her list of things to do while in Edinburgh. Time to change the subject. “How long have you known Robert?”

“I come to Edinburgh a couple of times a year, and I met Pops in a café on The Royal Mile about four years ago. We started talking and hit it off. Since we share a love of history, architecture, and art—for starters—we can go on for hours. We've closed down quite a few pubs, talking late into the night.”

“If I may ask, why do you call him Pops?”

“His neighbor kids call him that, and I picked up on it. Robert doesn't have kids of his own—none that I've ever heard about, anyway—and he seems to like the nickname.”

Harrison moved ahead of her. With one swift kick of his boot, he sent a large pebble out of her direct path, flying into the grass.

Shelby couldn't hide her grin. “My equilibrium, and my pride, thank you.”

“Always happy to be of service.”

“Well, this ugly metal trap is my rental.” She stopped beside the small white car and clicked the key fob. As he reached around her to open the door, Harrison's arm brushed hers, increasing her awareness of him tenfold.

“If you're not already attached to the car, might I suggest the tram, trains, or a cab?” The crinkles around his eyes surfaced when he smiled, making him even more impossibly attractive. “You'll find Edinburgh's a very accessible city.”

“Oh, I've already learned that lesson,” she said, snapping to attention. She needed to stop staring at him or he'd think she was a naïve, silly schoolgirl with a crush. “You'll be happy to know I plan on returning the car tomorrow. To protect the fine citizens of Old Reeky, if nothing else. I have enough trouble keeping myself from colliding with the ground, so why chance anything?”

Shelby's pulse sputtered as Harrison's smile sobered. What was coming next? This man seemed uncommonly sensitive, but he was also forthright enough to speak his mind. “Shelby, I don't know your reason for wanting to meet with Pops—and I realize it's none of my business—but a word of advice?”

She'd started to climb behind the wheel but pulled herself back up, anchoring her hand beside his on the car door. “What's that?”

“You might want to tread carefully when it comes to talking with him about Kentucky. There's a sadness there. Regret, maybe. Or loneliness.” He shrugged. “I don't really know.” When he raked his hand through his thick blond waves, it tousled them even more.

A quick rush of frustration surged inside her, and Shelby concentrated on keeping her voice even. “Robert's blessed to have such a valiant protector.” Maybe that sounded snippy, but Harrison was right. It
wasn't
his business.

“All I'm saying is, a trip down memory lane might not be in his best interest.” He hesitated. “Or yours.”

Shelby dared to meet his gaze. “On the other hand, talking about it might be cathartic.”

“For you or for Pops?” Harrison's tone sounded more like concern rather than a challenge.

“Maybe for both of us.”

Why was she even having this conversation?

“I hope you find what you're looking for here in Edinburgh,” Harrison said, “but I'd hate to see Pops get hurt in the process.”

A bristle of irritation snaked its way up Shelby's spine. “Trust me, Harry. While I appreciate your loyalty to Robert, I didn't come here to dredge up unhappy memories or to cause ‘Pops' any undue pain.” The moment of closeness broken, she tossed her purse on the passenger seat before climbing inside. Harrison closed the car door and waited as she started the engine. Sensing he wanted to say more, she swallowed her frustration and lowered the window.