Mad About Plaid (8 page)

"No serious relationships since getting out?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation going, hoping it would help.

"No time," he said. "I inherited the estate right after."

"It's a lot of work, what you're doing. A big place to run. The guest house, the farm, the cottages… You must really love it here."

He nodded. "Everyone back home, except my mother, thinks we're crazy for not selling. My brothers and I have a lot of good memories here, our roots are here too. Someday I want my kids to have their own memories here like I did. I want others to come," he continued, "to unwind and find a little peace, you know? That's one of the reasons I wanted Dev to come and work on the cottages."

"He was in the military too."

"Yeah. We saw a lot of shit, lost friends," he shook his head, unable to find the words to go on. "This place, the land, I want it to help him like it's helped me. It'll help Jamie too when he's ready to leave."

Lucy wasn't cold, but she shivered anyway and rubbed her arms, knowing he'd notice, knowing he'd be the kind of guy to care.

"Cold?"

She nodded. She wasn't really, but something inside her wanted to be closer, to hold him, to give him comfort and someone to hold on to.

He patted the mattress beside him. "Come here."

Lucy scooted over and snuggled against his warm body as he drew the blanket around them, holding him tightly and hoping it eased his anxiety. His heart hammered and every time a loud thunder clap or lighting strike came, he held her a bit tighter and told her it was okay, that it'd be over soon.

Ian MacLaren was a good guy, the complete package. And it terrified her.

As the storm drifted away, she relaxed. She was close to Ian's neck and could smell the scent of his skin. She breathed in deeply, thinking she could definitely get used to this.

God, I could get used to this,
Ian thought, resting his chin on the top of Lucy's head.

He was exhausted, the storm zapping his strength. Annoyance went through him at his reaction. It was just a damn storm.

And yet, it wasn't.

Any loud bang or crash caused his blood pressure to soar, his hands to tremble, and his adrenaline to go haywire. He hated the feeling. The sudden punch of panic. The cold sweats. But he dealt with it, just like everything else. Only this time, holding Lucy, her holding on to him, blunted the sharper edges and made him feel grounded, kept him in the present. He knew he was in Scotland. He knew he was here in this room, and not back there, in a sand-colored hell. The memories were there, the images replaying in his mind, but the smells, the smoke in his nose, the tang of blood, the hot metal, they were faint this time, overrun by a woman's warm breath against his neck and the feel of her in his arms.

The only thing that remained of the storm now was the far off thunder and the soft drizzle on the roof. They'd have to leave soon. But not yet. He eased against the wall, pulling Lucy more tightly against him.

The wisest thing would be to head back to the Rover. He had too much going on right now, too many responsibilities to start something with a woman who was only here for a week.

She snuggled closer. Her breasts pressed against his rib cage.

Screw wise.

This felt too good and too right. It had been a long time since he felt content like this. He hadn't thought he'd relate to her in any way or so quickly, but he had. She'd swept into his life like a hell-raising wind. And damned if he didn't end up liking it.

Ian could tell Lucy felt awkward when she woke in his arms. She moved away, gave him a quick, uncomfortable smile, got up and went for her shoes. He rose and saw to the fire, making sure it was completely out, then slipped on his boots and led them back to the Rover.

The ride home was slow and quiet, every creak and engine sound loud in the vehicle's cabin. As the house came into view, Lucy let out a low, even exhale.

"I'll tell Fran and Hamish," she said. "Explain to them what happened with Riley." She worked her bottom lip, thinking the worst. She turned in her seat to stare at Ian's profile. "I meant what I said. Riley is the best writer out there. I know she can take my notes, my photos, my experience here, and turn it into something amazing." And then her look turned sobering. "Unless you want me to go… Which is fine. I'd totally understand." But it wasn't fine. He could hear the false lightness to her voice. It wasn't fine with him either. In fact the whole idea made his stomach a little sour.

He kept his eyes on the road, considering her words for a while before slowing to a stop. He stared out the window for a long moment, and then faced her. "You should stay… Stick to the plan." It confounded him that he cared. "I'll show you around the estate this week," he rubbed a hand down the stubble on his jaw, trying to think clearly, "the activities, the village. It'll be fine."

The relief in her eyes caused him heart burn. Ian gave her a tight smile before resuming the drive back to the main house, wondering if Fran had any heartburn medicine handy.

"Ian?" Lucy nudged him on the shoulder.

"What?"

"I was asking what kind of activities."

Had she? He hadn't been paying attention. He did a mental shake to clear his mind, telling himself he just needed sleep. Last night, today, everything he'd learned, it had thrown him off his game, off his goal. Time to regroup and get back on track. "Fishing, archery, pony trekking, boating on the loch, bird watching… The pub in the village offers whisky tastings and we can arrange trips into the larger cities and help plan tours off the estate. Part of our land is a working farm, so we might add tours of that down the road. Dev's an amazing carpenter, so he'll keep things in shape, and Jamie has a degree in agriculture like my father did. Once we get the accommodations finished, he'll start running the farm."

Lucy digested his words with a serious nod. "You guys are making a life here."

Ian thought about that for a minute. "Yeah. I guess we are."

"What about your family in North Carolina?"

"My mom is happy we chose to keep Balmorie. She loves it here. But she'll never leave the farm back home. All her memories of us growing up, the house we lived in, memories of my father… It's all there. She has her brothers and sisters and my grandparents. They'll all come visit and we'll do the same."

"And now you have a place to host them all."

"That's the plan. So what would you like to do tomorrow?"

Lucy thought about it, a slight frown marring her features. "I haven't done any of those things you mentioned before. Kind of sad when you think about it," she said more to herself than to him.

"Why sad?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Just been realizing lately I've missed out on a lot, you know? You get in ruts, forget you once had big plans to see things and do things. Well, maybe not forget . . ."

"You mean talk yourself out of things, throw obstacles in your way?"

"Yeah," she answered, seeming surprised he got it.

"Everyone does it. My grandfather was big on no regrets, no dwelling on past mistakes, guilts, whatever. Always look forward, he'd say—though that was usually after he pissed off my grandmother and got into trouble. Point is, don't beat yourself up about it. You're here now. All those things you've never done," he said with a smile as he parked the Rover, "you're about to do."

Lucy sat on the terrace alone, admiring the view of the loch. The sun had set a few minutes before, leaving the sky streaked with brilliant orange and purple. The beauty made her chest feel tight. What an incredible place. What an amazing thing Ian was doing by keeping the castle and land in his family, and sharing it with others. It had been an emotional day. A strange one, too. Nothing was going as she'd expected, and she wasn't quite sure what would happen now.

Man, she'd been nervous to tell Fran and Hamish that she wasn't Riley. She'd tripped over her words, blushed furiously, and waited for the hate. But the hate never came. They told her 'never you mind', made her something to eat, said they had faith she'd do just as good a job as Riley would. And that was that.

It left her feeling a little dazed, like she was having an out of body experience.

They were good people. So was Ian.

And Lucy didn't feel like she deserved their understanding.

But then maybe that was just her throwing obstacles in her way again, making things seem harder than they were. She should stop second guessing, accept kindness, and move forward. Like Ian's grandfather had said.

Lucy hadn't seen Ian since he'd dropped her off at the castle. She wasn't sure she liked the sense of anticipation every footstep, every shutting door brought, the way her stomach went light and hopeful.

The sun had disappeared. The air grew chilly on the patio. Lucy drew the afghan around her to wait for the stars to appear and tried not to think of Ian.

Chapter 8

"Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"What?" Riley's voice came through the receiver in a harsh bark. "What the hell is going on Lucy?"

Crap.
"Not what I meant," she hurried to revise the blurted-out question, wondering why the hell she said it in the first place. "Not at first sight. More like after a day or two?" Oh, God. She had to stop. Her mouth had a mind of its own and was blubbering idiocy on a grand scale. "Never mind."

"Did you meet someone?"

"No," Lucy said in quick denial, laughing. "Of course not. No. I was just wondering. This place. The house. The Highlands. It's so romantic…" She rolled her eyes at her reflection in the mirror. "Look, I have to go. I'm taking a boating tour of the loch and then a whisky tasting at the local pub."

"What? Lucy—"

"I really have to go, Ri. Talk to you later."

Lucy hung up the phone, heart pounding, completely stunned. What was going on? Was she in love? No. No way. It didn't happen like that. She barely knew him.

Then why had her subconscious voiced the question?

"Crazy talk, that's why," Lucy muttered, grabbing her sweater and heading out the door, shoving images of her and Ian out of her mind.

It had been a while since she had a man in her life, and Lucy was a known dreamer. She leapt ahead, thought of futures, envisioned possibilities. It was who she was. And this time was no different. She was just doing what she always did.

She felt better with each step down the stairs, waved at Hamish as he walked by, and left the castle for the sunny sky and a beautiful loch.

Only it was raining.

Again.

A bulky raincoat-clad figure jogged toward her. "Sorry about the rain," Ian called as he drew near.

Under the eaves of the main entrance, he stopped and gave her a megawatt smile. There went her stomach again. His hair was wet and so were his eye lashes, making the blue of his eyes more vibrant and striking. And she just stood there, staring soberly until her mouth went dry and the sound of the rain became distant.

"You dressed for the weather this time," he finally broke the odd pause between them.

"Yeah."

Yeah? That was the best she could come up with?

"Let me grab some rain gear for you. The tour is still on."

After Ian went inside, Lucy let out a long, pent up breath. Her ridiculous phone call with Riley had really messed with her head. She had to get it together.

After donning the rain coat and hood Ian gave her, he grabbed her hand and they ran across the yard to the dock and hopped onto the small boat. Soon they were coasting across the water. Definitely not the lazy day floating on the loch that she'd imagined. Oddly enough though, she wouldn't change a thing. It felt exhilarating and wild. Her pulse thrummed and energy coursed through her veins as she stood inside the small cabin, her body quickly getting used to the rise and fall of the craft.

"Where are we going?" she asked loudly to be heard over the motor.

"You'll see. Hang tight."

The boat veered left. She yelped and grabbed the railing. Ian smiled, the look in his eyes . . . affectionate.

As they went around around a bend, Lucy's eyes widened. "No way."

On a piece of rocky land jutting into the loch were the ruins of a castle. Jagged tower, crumbling walls… The stones were old and beautiful, the entire site breathtaking against the backdrop of the misty loch and moss covered rocks.

The rain had slowed to a drizzle. The air was so fresh and cool, she wanted to bottle it and take it home with her. Part of her knew she'd never be the same after this trip, that she'd leave part of herself here in this beautiful place.

Ian navigated the boat near the shore, dropped anchor, and then pulled on tall rubber boots before jumping into the cold shallow water. "Hand me that basket," he said, pointing.

She did as he asked, then watched him slosh his way to shore, set the basket on a rock and then return. "Now your turn." He held out his arms.

"My turn. You plan on giving all your guests this kind of personal service?"