The Great Scot (20 page)

She squeezed his hand, then stopped and turned to face him with a smile and a little curtsy as they approached the main tower. “So there ye have it, lad, the tragic tale of Erin MacGregor. Would make a good pub song, I'm sure.”

Rather than let her go, or worse, give her that look of pity she'd seen far too many times, he did the most perfect thing. He captured both of her hands and tugged her to him, until they were toe to toe, and she had to look up to see into his eyes. The moonlight framed him like a halo, which only leant more power to the words he spoke.

He smiled down at her, a smile that easily reached and lit up his eyes. “No' so tragic, I'm thinkin',” he said, his brogue thicker, his voice easy and sure. “Aye, ye were a wee babe, abandoned on a doorstep, and I'm sure the pub bards could weave quite the tale for you. But if I were writin' the lyric, it wouldna be a tale of woe, but one of triumph.” He pulled her closer still and drew their hands together between them. “I admire yer spirit, Erin MacGregor, and I dinna think you'd have thrived the same and become the woman ye are if ye'd taken any other path. So I can hardly find fault in it, now can I?” He pulled her hands to his mouth, dropped an impossibly sweet string of kisses along each bent knuckle. “Because I rather fancy the lass the world made ye into.”

It was so unexpected, she couldn't fight the lump that formed in her throat, and she suspected her eyes were a bit glassy as well. No one had ever said anything like that to her, had ever given her that particular gift. Celebrating her adversity rather than pitying her for it. For seeing it much as she'd come to see it herself. Had had to see it, in order to make sense of it, and use it to her advantage.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice somewhat gruff. “I—you know,” she said, her lips trembling a bit as her mouth widened into a smile and her feelings came tumbling forth, “I rather fancy the bloke you've become, too.” She felt her heart swell, maybe teeter a bit as well, but willfully ignored all the danger signs that went along with it. “Imagine that, Dylan Chisholm. Imagine that.”

“Come here, Erin MacGregor,” he murmured. “And ask me. Please.”

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

And he did. And it was much like the one before, back by his car. Surprisingly tender, almost reverent. Before, by the waterfall, and in his office, his kisses had been seductive, ardent, almost overwhelmingly sensual. She had so much pent up need at this point she physically ached with it, but rather than disappoint, this kiss brought to life an entirely new kind of ache. The ache to be treated gently and with such sweet affection. Which, perversely, only served to jack up her sexual need for him that much higher. He was a threat to every part of her, and she was already falling, swiftly, and with no safety net in sight. She should be pushing him away, barricading her emotions off, now, while she still had even a slim hope of protecting her heart.

Did he know she was far more vulnerable to this sort of tender invasion? Was he intentionally trying to render her completely helpless?

Then he was sliding his palm along her neck, tipping her mouth to his, taking the kiss deeper. She let him inside her mouth and felt his groan of response vibrate in his throat, felt the urgency increase as his kisses slowly became more demanding, more consuming. And though she hadn't yet decided what her regrets would or wouldn't be with him, it was too late to figure it out now. She gave herself over to it. To him. Fully and completely. It was too rare, this feeling he evoked inside her, too glorious, and too perfectly fulfilling, to toss it aside. And for now, that was guide enough for her heart.

He stumbled from the rutted path and pulled her with him, sinking down on a low part of the ruined outer wall and tugging her down so she straddled his lap.

“Dylan,” she murmured against his lips, “we shouldn't disturb—”

“This fortress has withstood greater threats than a couple trysting in the moonlight,” he assured her.

She smiled, liking his turn of phrase. “A trysting couple, are we?”

He supported her with an arm around her back, sliding his other hand into her hair as he urged her mouth back to his. “A man can hope.”

This time he took her mouth like a man half-starved. And she was torn as to which was more affecting. But there was no time to think, only to feel, as she reveled in the way he claimed her. Thinking it might be fun to do a bit of claiming herself, she was just weaving her fingers into his hair when he wrenched his mouth from hers.

“There—” He had to stop, clear his throat, giving her a little thrill to know she affected him that much. “There was more to this fantasy date than staring at a pile of rocks.”

She toyed with his hair, feeling emboldened and more than a little powerful. “I don't recall complaining thus far.”

He grinned at that, and the resulting sizzle had her squeezing her knees against his thighs, making her wish she could wrap her legs around his hips instead.

“At the risk of giving ye far too much time to reject me yet again,” he started, holding her tightly against him as he stood, then letting her feet drop to the ground. “I've gone to a wee bit of trouble and I'm hopin' to impress you with my rusty romancing skills.”

She didn't even try to stifle her grin. “Rusty, huh? Something tells me you probably didn't need much of a reintroduction.”

He took her hand and guided her around the base of the tower ruins. “Why you'd think that, I have no idea, but I'll happily allow you the fantasy. As it's likely to last all of a few minutes at best.” The far side of the tower still reached several stories up. At the base, there was an archway. If there had once been a door, it was no longer in existence, providing them easy access to the interior. “Mind your head.”

Still holding his hand, she ducked in first, then waited for him to follow. “Wow,” she said, her eyes easily adjusting to the darker interior, courtesy of the fact that the spire was no longer there and the moonlight poured down into the barren interior. Curving along one wall was a crumbling staircase set into the stone walls of the tower itself. She tipped her head back and followed the line of steps. They wound upward for two full circumferences of the inner tower wall before coming to an abrupt end where the ruined tower walls had crumbled.

Dylan led her to the base of the stairs.

“Really?” she said, following him, but surprised he planned to go up. “But they don't lead anywhere.”

He smiled over his shoulder. “Dinna you know there is always more to things than meets the eye?”

Looking into his face, seeing his eyes sparkle, that smile that promised mischief and a few other things that had her muscles clenching even more tightly, she realized she could barely remember the serious, reclusive man she'd first encountered. “Yes,” she said, “yes, I do.” She inclined her head. “Lead on.”

“There's the spirit.”

Tightening his hold on her hand, he began the climb. “Stay close to the wall, mind your step. There are some loose stones in a few of them.” He glanced down at her. “You're all right with heights?”

“Now you ask?”

He paused, looking suddenly concerned.

“I'm kidding. I'm fine. When I was six, and I needed to be alone, my favorite place to hide out was up on the apex of the roof. I used to sneak up to the custodial closet on the top floor, then climb out through the window and shimmy up the tiles.” She sighed a bit wistfully in remembrance. It had been a long time since she'd dredged up any memories of her time at Crestview, and it surprised her a little to discover that she was actually fond of this particular one.

“Ever get caught?”

“I got in trouble a few times for not being where I was supposed to be. Maybe more than a few times,” she added when he cast her another dubious look. “But they never figured out where I'd disappeared to. I used to love it up there. The grounds were pretty, clustered with big trees, and the whole place was surrounded by a really high wall. So the view out of any window was limited to our little world. But the peak of the roof was above tree level and wall level. I could see as far as a clear sky would let me. It was very empowering. I vowed that when I got out of there, there would be no more wall between me and the rest of the world. I knew I would find a way to go all the way to the horizon and beyond.” She smiled. “And eventually, I did.”

“That's how I felt about my visit to the city when I was ten,” Dylan said. “There was all this noise and hustle and bustle and people, so many people. I remember being amazed that there were so many cars. More cars than cows or sheep. I felt like I'd discovered the center of the universe. And I knew right then I was not meant to stay in the countryside, no matter what my grandfather told me about my heritage. In fact, the more I was told what I had to do, what I was born to do, the more I grew absolutely certain I wasn't meant to do it.”

“Ah, a real rebel.”

“More like hard-headed and stubborn.”

She continued to trudge up the stone stairs behind him, quite enjoying the view of his backside. “Hey,” she teased, “I resemble that remark.”

He lightly squeezed her fingers then slowed. “Watch your head here.”

She looked up through the open tower top at the moon. “Watch my head on what?”

“On this.” Dylan shifted slightly and stepped into what looked like nothing more than a turreted window opening, but turned out to be an alcove.

She ducked her head and squeezed in behind him. They both had to turn sideways to shimmy through the narrow opening to the side of the alcove. “I bet you were awesome at hide and seek,” she said, slowly sidestepping through the skinny opening in the thick stone walls.

“Actually, Tristan was the best,” Dylan said, grunting a little as he wedged himself into the narrow spot, then pushed himself through. “Wiry little wanker he was, and wily, too. Could squeeze himself into the damnedest places. Often took us hours to find the sod.” Dylan carefully helped her through the short passage.

When she popped out on the other side, she immediately plastered her back to the wall behind her. “Oh my god.”

“Careful.” Dylan braced an arm across her chest until she steadied herself.

She was standing on a narrow precipice of a mostly crumbled turret. With nothing between her and a good two story drop to the ground. “You weren't kidding about the heights thing.” Her pulse was thrumming, but it was an exhilarating kind of rush.

“You okay?”

She shot him a grin. “What do you think?”

His expression went all heated and dark, and Erin decided she'd better be a little more careful provoking him. Wonky knees would not be a good thing at the moment. “Right,” she managed, earning herself a rather devilish wink. Now her heart was pounding for two reasons.

“Turn slowly,” he instructed, helping her to do so until they were both belly to the tower wall. “Follow me.” He moved sideways, quite casually, as if they weren't tiptoeing along what amounted to a crumbling, inches wide ledge, on the side of a centuries old castle ruin.

She was all for adventures, and she really did think this was rather exciting, but, all the same, she tightened her hold on his hand just a little anyway. She hadn't done anything wild and crazy like this since…well, since the last time the two of them had taken off together. She was beginning to see a pattern. And having a hard time recalling why that was a bad thing. Fun. She was actually having fun.

“Okay, just a bit farther on, up this way.”

A series of stone steps curved upward a few yards or so, this time part of the outer, rather than the inner wall.

“Here we are,” he said, climbing around to where the tower was connected to the closest main building by a wide, thick stone wall. Or it had been connected at one time. The wall only extended outward about two dozen yards before coming to a crumbled halt. The top of the wall appeared to have once been a walkway, as there were low, crenellated walls on either side that were about chest high. A good portion of those were now gone as well, but enough remained that Erin could visualize how it had once looked.

It was only when Dylan moved forward onto the walkway atop the wall that she saw the rest. Several huge woven blankets had been laid out on the widest expanse, with a couple large pillows arranged on either side. In the center was a large wicker basket and a wick lamp.

He said nothing, but smiled and spread his arm in front of him. “A moonlight feast awaits, milady.”

She was so surprised, and so inordinately touched by the effort he'd gone to, she impulsively put her arms around his neck and hugged him. Oddly, considering the rather carnal way they'd entwined themselves now on more than one occasion, when he wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her back, it felt more intimate than anything they'd done to date.

“How did you get all this up here?”

His eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “Impressed, are you?”

He was so clearly pleased with her reaction, and himself, for that matter, she couldn't bring herself to tease him. “Aye, that I am,” she said, in a fair imitation of his brogue. She also didn't have the heart to tell him that, as touching and romantic as it was, dining beneath the stars atop castle ruins, it was unlikely they could use this particular spot in the show. The technical aspects of filming would be a challenge, not to mention the danger to the participants in having them scale crumbling walls and stairs. The legal department would stroke out completely. Not only that, but she'd neglected to mention to Dylan that this particular fantasy date was to be an overnight. And while spending the night at an ancient castle fulfilled most of the fantasy requirements, this one was a bit too ancient to adequately cover the overnight part of the deal.