The Calum (5 page)

Lovie gazed up at the
vaulted ceilings and arched windows. The chapel had been renovated
recently, along with the entire Eden Court complex. The warm, maple
tones of the woodwork sang to her. She ran her fingers over the
gleaming paneling, hoping to learn its secrets. It was clear that
they’d taken great pains to restore the stonework as
well.

Vendors and craftsmen
lined the two-floor structure, and she wandered from one to the
other. There were local examples of folk art, pottery and textiles.
If she’d had room in her suitcase, she would have spent a fortune.
After sampling handmade whiskey fudge, she broke down and bought a
small amount. Only a pound or three. A few curious heads turned as
she walked about, but the people were friendly and warm. Weaving
her way through the crowd, she spotted a familiar face.

Duff was the last person
she expected to see at a craft festival, yet there he was. She made
her way over to him, careful not to alert him to her presence. It
was like observing a gazelle in the wild.

He stood on the side,
shuffling from foot to foot, checking his phone and looking not at
all like someone who was there by choice. There with a girlfriend,
perhaps? Not that she cared.

As she moved closer, a
small, round-faced woman handed him a bag. The woman smiled before
patting him on the cheek and moving on, with him trailing behind.
Her salt and pepper hair framed her face in an adorable bob, one
lick curling against her cheek. They reached a table covered with
handmade knits. The woman passed weathered hands over the
assortment, pausing occasionally to inspect a hat or a scarf.
Duff’s back was to her, and Lovie caught a whiff of some spicy
cologne. Had he been wearing it the night before?

“
Hey Duff.”

A blinding smile spread
across his face when he turned around, but disappeared just as
quickly. He glanced over his shoulder at the woman, who was still
perusing the goods. “Lovie, hey. Fancy meetin’ you here.” He looked
over her head. “You on your own?”

“
Yeah.” As if Jo would
give up her Highland demigod to spend the day with her best friend.
“Jo’s with Hamish, so...”

He frowned.
“Alone?”

“
Well, yeah. Only room for
two in the roadster.” She imitated Jo’s breathy
declaration.

Duff’s sexy mouth
contorted into a so-not-sexy scowl. “Where the hell did he take
her?”

O…kay… He was awfully
interested in Jo’s whereabouts. Maybe, like most other red-blooded
men on the planet, he was hot for her too. Lovie grit her
teeth.

“
How should I know? I’m
not her keeper.”

“
How could you let ‘er go
off with a stranger?” He towered over her, eyes dark and
angry.

Lovie’s hands went to her
hips. “Wait a sec, he’s
your
friend.”

“
I know that.” He ground
the words out through clenched teeth. The mood swings were strong
with this one.

Okay, now she was worried.
She stepped closer, meeting him eye-to-chin. “Is there something
about Hamish that I should know?”

He blinked, his nostrils
flaring as he took a deep breath. “No.”

“
Then, what’s the
problem?”

He gawked at her like
she’d asked him the square root of pi. After a moment, his mouth
snapped shut. “No problem.”

Oh, there was
definitely
a problem,
and Lovie wanted to know what the hell it was. They glared at each
other for several excruciating seconds before being interrupted by
a soft voice.

“
Aren’t ye
goin’
to
introduce me to yer friend, dear?” The woman pushed him aside and
took Lovie’s hand. Hers were as soft as cashmere. She had the same
sea blue eyes, though the right one had the dull pallor of a
developing cataract.

“
I’m his gran, dear. You
can call me Ginny. And aren’t you a rare thing?”

“
Gran.” Duff stepped next
to her. “This is Lovie. She’s
visitin’
from the States.”

“
Ohh! Weel, then,
weelcome. Lovie, is it? Such an interestin’ name for an interestin’
lass.” Lovie frowned. Had he been talking to his grandmother about
her? Duff’s mouth gaped open like a distressed fish.

“
Uh, what me gran means to
say is that...it’s...rare...to, eh, find a...find an American in
these parts.”

“
Och, no! We get Yanks
here all the time, dear. I just meant-”

“
Gran.”

“
Hush, C.J.” Ginny wagged
a finger at her grandson, effectively shutting him up. Lovie filed
that trick away for later use. “I’m just curious as to how this
beauty came to be.”

Oh.

Lovie’s back stiffened
when Ginny reached a hand up toward her hair. Strangers always
seemed to feel entitled to touch it without permission.

Is that your real
hair?

Do you dye it?

I’ve never seen a
brown-skinned redhead before.

While she understood the
fascination, to an extent, it always felt like an invasion of her
personal space.

“
May I, dear?” Ginny
smiled, waiting. Just like that, the tension drained away. Lovie
nodded and leaned down a little. The woman’s touch was feather
light.

“
Genealogy is a hobby of
mine, ye ken.” She passed a gentle hand over her crown and
inspected one coily lock. “Ye’ve some Scots in you, I think. What’s
yer last name, dear?”

“
Uh, Grant.” She’d always
found it kind of boring. Maybe that’s why her parents had named her
Lovie. She gave a small shrug. “Pretty common in
America.”

“
Ah, but it’s an old
Scottish name, Grant is,” Ginny said with enthusiasm.

“
Really?”

“
Aye. Old Norse.” She
gently tucked Lovie’s hair behind her ears and cupped her cheeks.
It was an oddly moving gesture. “I knew ye had Scots blood. These
fiery curls couldna come from anywhere else.” She laughed softly.
“Beeyoutiful.”

“
Thank you, Ginny.” Lovie
smiled, touched by the old woman’s kindness. “That’s...very
sweet.”

“
Jus’ speakin’ the truth,
dear. Now...” She turned Lovie’s hand over, studying it.

Over her head, Duff
mouthed ‘I’m sorry’, pleading with his eyes for her to be patient.
Lovie was fine, though. She understood Ginny’s
curiosity.

“
You’ve
the loveliest skin. Like spring
whea’.”

“
Like what?”

“
Spring wheat,” Duff
replied, his eyes scanning her. “Golden brown.” His ears
reddened.

“
And such adorable
freckles. Some African roots as well, aye? Or West Indian, perhaps.
Beautiful people.” Ginny released Lovie’s hand and stepped back,
smiling. “You’re just lovely, dear. Just lovely. Isn’t
she?”

“
Aye,
” Duff answered quietly. “She
is.”

Wait, he thought she was
lovely? Lovie met his gaze again, and the unmistakable heat there
shocked her. God, his eyes were so…blue.
Or green. No, blue.

She blinked to clear her
head and turned back to Ginny, who was grinning at them
both.

“
So, Lovie.” Duff cleared
his throat. “What have you been up to all day?”

“
Oh, I was just doing some
sightseeing.”

“
All on yer own, dear?”
Ginny tsk-ed and took Lovie by the arm. Despite her age, her grip
was firm. “We canna have that, now, can we? Ye’ll walk along with
us.” Duff shrugged at Lovie’s arched eyebrow and fell in step
behind them.

They stopped at a booth
filled with local watercolors. One by one, Ginny explained each
piece in soft, melodic tones.

“
And this here is Cawdor
Castle.” She ran a crooked finger over the delicate brush strokes.
“It’s beautiful.”

“
Yes, I was there this
morning.”

“
Though, ye ought to go to
Golspie and see Dunrobin Castle.” Ginny pointed to another
rendering. “It’s my favorite. And C.J. can take ye! Couldn’t you
dear?” She beamed at him, obviously doting.

“
Well, gran, I’m sure that
Lovie has other-”

“
O’course ye can.” She
smiled, patting his cheek once more. Lovie was certain she’d seen
him blush that time. Grandma’s boy. It was curious for a guy in a
leather biker jacket who carried himself as if he were apart from
the world, but it somehow made sense. She liked his
grandmother.

“
For now, we should have
supper.” Ginny took Lovie’s hand. “Will ye join us fer tea, dear?
My home’s no so far, o’er in Westhill.”

“
Um-”

“
O’course you will. Ye
need a good, home-cooked meal to warm ye.”

Apparently, Ginny wasn’t
accustomed to hearing the word no.

****

Duff’s stomach ached from
too much food and more laughter than he’d had in ages. In addition
to whipping up a spread that could’ve fed an army, his gran had
also supplied the mealtime entertainment, providing embarrassing
tales of his youth. Lovie had eaten it all up with a glow in her
cheeks.

There was something
enchanting about her. The way she moved, the way she spoke, it
demanded his attention. He found it hard to take his eyes off of
her, something that hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Gran’s knowing smiles had
him squirming.

Lovie Grant. The girl with
the guarded, beautiful brown eyes and the careful smile. She was
inquisitive. Insightful. And destined to be a little lonely on this
trip, what with her friend tied up in whatever Hamish was up
to.

She had asked him, flat
out, was there something she should know about Hamish and Duff had
lied right to her face. What else was he supposed to do, tell her
the truth? He supposed he really should, but then it was none of
his business. And he had promised Hamish he wouldn’t
interfere.
Just a bit of holiday
companionship
, he’d said.
No romance
.
Right.

What if
he
wanted a bit of
romance? Lovie was smart, funny and bloody gorgeous. There he was,
sharing a meal and a laugh, leaving Hamish to do God knows what
with her best friend. What did that make him?
A MacDuff.

Gran pinched his cheek,
dropping him back into the middle of the conversation.

“
An’ this wee one was
covered in flooeer-”

“
In what?” Lovie glanced
at him for help.

“
Flour,” he said and she
smiled, warm and bright.

“
Thas what I said een it,
a bhobain?”

Duff chuckled. “Aye, gran,
but sometimes I havta translate fer yer old Scots tongue.” He
ducked the hand that swatted at his ear. “It’s true!”

“
Och, you.” Gran laughed.
The sound of it warmed him. Lovie laughed too, only hers had an
entirely different effect. How could a laugh be so damn
sexy?

He’d agreed to take his
gran shopping at the festival, thinking he’d spend the rest of the
evening at the pub watching footie. This was so much better. He’d
deal with the guilt later.

Lovie stood and reached
for a platter. “Can I help clear the table, Ginny?”

“
Heavens, no! Yer a guest
in ma house.” Gran deftly stacked the dirty plates and nodded to
him. “Me grandson can help me, and then he can show you some o’ his
pictures.”

Duff stiffened.

The photos he carried with
him were personal. There was more than a measure of him in each
exposure. The rest, he sold or shot for work, but his private
collection…those he only showed to a few people.

“
Gran, I doubt she’d be
interested in those.”

“
Nonsense.” Gran protested
with a tsk. “He takes lovely photos, dear.”

“
Oh, I’d love to see
some.” Jesus. With a smile like that, how could he say
no?

“
Yeah alright, then. I
won’t be a moment.” Why did the thought of sharing a few photos
with her make him so damned nervous?

“
I’ll be leaving this fine
evenin’ to you two young people.” And now he was even more
nervous.
Thanks, Gran.

Gran shuffled toward the
kitchen but turned to call out over her shoulder. “I expect ye to
come ‘round again afore ye head back home, Lovie dear.”

“
Of course.” Lovie smiled
sweetly. “I’d like that.”

Pleased as punch, Gran
disappeared into the kitchen. Duff followed behind and soon they
had the table cleared. Despite Gran’s protests, Lovie
helped.

****

Lovie couldn’t believe the
quality of his photography. Duff had been modest when he told her
he shot landscapes and portraits. There
was
such depth and emotion in
every photo. He obviously loved his work, and it showed.

Composition, perspective,
and light. That’s about all she remembered from her one photography
class, but Duff seemed to have mastered them all. He pulled out one
transcendent landscape after another. The Grand Canyon, Victoria
Falls, a bamboo forest in some exotic locale. The boy got
around.