The Sweetest Hours (Harlequin Superromance) (12 page)

He glanced at her guidebook with its picture of a castle on the cover. “You’re taking my advice and going to see castles, aren’t you? That’s great, but why can’t you stay here, in the city? We have castles in Edinburgh, too.”

“It’s a day trip, Malcolm. People do take day trips.”

“Yes, and they bring guides with them. They go on group tours. At the very least, they travel with a friend.”

She tilted her head. “What is this really about? If you cared about my well-being, then you’d keep Aura open.”

“All I’m saying is that it’s not safe for you to go alone.”

“Why?” she asked, laughing. “Is Scotland so dangerous? Are the sheep violent? And the cows? I’m going to the country, Malcolm, not a city vice den. Besides, I’m tired of being safe. Weren’t you the one who said that I was naturally adventurous? That you hoped I found my castle one day?”

He’d been so damn wrong for saying that. But he’d been affected by her kiss, by the
spell
of her. “You don’t know Scotland,” he insisted. He knew he sounded stubborn, but if she knew the truth...

“You really do think the Scottish countryside is unsafe, don’t you?” She stared at him, her head tilted, seemingly curious. “
Why
are you so convinced of that?”

“Because it’s true. Bad things can happen anywhere.”

“I know, but really...”

His breath exhaled.
Don’t tell her.
“And people get kidnapped sometimes.”

“Kidnapped?” She laughed and shook her head. “Why would you even consider that? It’s crazy.”

“Is it?” He grabbed his phone from his pocket and thrust it at her. “Look it up. Go ahead, do an internet search of my name.
M-A-C-D-O-W-A-L-L.
Find out what everyone in Scotland already knows. Maybe it will give you some caution.”

He shoved the phone into her hands, so she had no choice but to hold it or let it drop. She didn’t let it drop, which gave him a small spot of comfort.

She also did not open the phone’s web browser. Instead, she looked up at him with those big green eyes.

“You were kidnapped?” she asked in a low voice.

He dragged in a breath. Exhaled again. “Yes.”

“Because you’re rich?”

“Because my family is rich. I was ten years old.” The anger burned in him, not for himself, but for Rhiannon, his younger sister.

“Oh.” Kristin cupped the phone more tightly in her hands. Brought it up to her heart. “I’m sorry, Malcolm.”

“I...” He didn’t know how to respond. This had never happened to him before. He just did not speak of his past to people.

Twenty years ago, for one thing, news hadn’t made it across the globe the way it did today, with the prevalence of the internet and twenty-four-hour television channels. Today, the kidnapping story of an industrialist’s young niece and nephew might be news in America as well as in Britain.

He’d been lucky, he supposed. Malcolm had gone through twenty years of schooling in America without his ordeal being common knowledge. He crossed his arms. “In any event, do you see my concern?”

She nodded. She still gripped his phone to her heart.

“Yes, well, never mind all that.” He swept his hand toward the car door. “May I please drive you? Just humor me.”

She nibbled her lip. “Is that why you use a false name when you travel?”

He stilled. He hadn’t really considered that. Not as a direct result, anyway. He thought he’d been using the security name in order to keep the acquisition plans secret and safe.

She looked back at him with those big green eyes. It was as if she saw all. All the pain buried in him, like a well beneath his skin, covered over with a scab on the surface.

Please don’t ask me any more questions.

She didn’t. She just handed his phone back to him. “I’m sorry about what happened to you,” she said quietly. “But if you’re not going to talk to me about Born in Vermont yet, then this is a trip that I need to take for myself.” She stared down at her toes. “Honestly, you shook my confidence today, when I learned I’d been lied to and hadn’t realized it. I need to prove to myself that I’m not a fool—that I’m still okay. And that I
will
be okay.”

A million things sprang to mind to reassure her with, but he remained silent. He nodded, thinking of Rhiannon. “Please, let me drive you anyway.”

“No, I’m going to switch cars now.” She left and went back inside the storefront. He leaned against the hood of the car and waited.

When she came back, she had a glum look on her face. Obviously, no automatic transmissions were available.

“I can drive,” he said. “It’s just for the afternoon.”

“No. I think I’ll ask the men to give me an impromptu lesson.”

Malcolm held one ace in his hand, and it was time to play it. “If you let me go with you, I can promise to hold off packing up your Vermont factory for a week or two longer than we’d planned. That would mean an extra paycheck for all of your work colleagues, which is more than we’d budgeted for or agreed to. But decide now, Kristin, because my good faith offer to you expires in five minutes.”

Her head snapped up. “And you’ll promise you’ll keep the Sage people away from the plant until I get home in two weeks’ time?”

“Yes. Fine. But no more discussion about your Born in Vermont report today, or I cancel everything.”

“Done,” she said. “Because we’re still discussing it on schedule, tomorrow. You won’t change that, right?”

How was it that she constantly got him to do things he had never planned in the first place? “Right,” he said. And breathed a sigh of relief as she handed him the car keys.

Hefting the weight in his hand, he kept his smile to himself. Because now he had a bigger problem...

“Please, stop at my hotel,” she directed him as she opened the passenger-side door. “I’d like to pick up some things and leave a note for Arlene.”

He nodded curtly. “First, let me just check the equipment before we leave.” He strode over and inspected the vehicle’s tires. Opened the hatchback and checked for a tire-changing kit. Went round to the front and opened the bonnet. Tested the headlights. Adjusted the mirrors.

It was a dumpy, ugly little car, but it appeared to be in working order. He got inside the driver’s seat and started the engine. It didn’t sound too bad. “So. Where’s your hotel?”

“Um...” She opened her purse and pulled out a business card, handing it to him. Her tour group was staying at a small, budget inn.

He handed her back the card, then gripped the stick shift and depressed the pedal. He’d driven a stick in America—had learned to drive in America, actually—but had never driven a stick in his native country. The problem being that it was on the other side of the steering wheel than he was used to.

Just brilliant. But he smiled brightly at her. “Don’t judge me if I’m a bit rusty.”

“Being rich and all,” she said, teasing him, “I suppose you are chauffeured more often than you chauffeur others?”

“Er, yes. Something like that.” And crossing his fingers, he threw the midget clown car into gear.

CHAPTER SEVEN

K
RISTIN
PRESSED
TWO
fingers to her lips as the car bumped down the street, her body jerked forward, then backward by Malcolm’s unskilled driving.

Malcolm’s face was red, and his mouth and eyes tight with concentration. The only reason Kristin didn’t snicker aloud was because she knew she could do no better, and probably a whole lot worse. She had never driven a stick shift in her life. She didn’t know anybody who owned a vehicle that didn’t have an automatic transmission.

Honestly, she was thankful he’d been there to help. But still, she would be wise to stay wary of him. She’d bought his “George Smith” act hook, line and sinker, and she still felt duped.

Why hadn’t she trusted her own instincts better? From the beginning, she’d sensed that he was Scottish, that he wasn’t who he said he was. He’d called George Smith his “security name.” At first, that had felt like a slap in the face to her. Now, it made a little more sense.

Kidnapped at ten years of age—she couldn’t imagine a child going through that, and honestly, she didn’t want to. It was just too upsetting, too painful to think of. It was never wise to allow herself to enter into that mind-set.

She tapped her coat pocket, but it was empty, nothing inside—no flashlight. Once she had it with her, at hand again, she’d feel better—which was partly why she wanted to return to her hotel to retrieve her whole suitcase, as opposed to just fishing out the more detailed map she’d packed inside the front pouch. The map that the car rental shop had given her was of no help at all.

She glanced at Malcolm, now more comfortable controlling the car’s stick shift. The stoplight at the end of the street had turned red, and they idled behind a small truck. Malcolm must have felt her gaze on his face, because he turned to her and smiled.

He looked great when he was relaxed. He wore a gray business suit that couldn’t hide his firm thighs or his crotch, which the light wool cupped as he sat in the driver seat. Adding to his accidental sexiness, his tie was loosened and the top button of his blue shirt, the color of his eyes, was undone.

Her cheeks felt warm. She jerked her gaze away, her hands twisting in her lap. What was going on with her? It could be very dangerous being cooped up in this tiny automobile together for a few more hours. She needed to take care not to fall under his spell again. She was not jeopardizing the reason she was in Scotland, even if she had agreed not to mention those three words
Born in Vermont,
at least until tomorrow morning.

She wrapped her shawl more tightly around herself.

“It’s Friday afternoon,” she remarked, staring forward through the windshield to the city traffic before them. “Don’t you have plans tonight, George? A big date, maybe?”

He raised a brow. “Looks like you’re it,” he teased. “Lucky you.”

Yes, lucky her. Kristin clenched her hands in her lap.

“Bear with me,” Malcolm said, as he checked both directions before exiting into traffic. They drove “the wrong way”—on the left side of the road—and it felt strange to her. Sitting to the left of the driver was also a new experience. She would have eventually figured it out for herself—if she had survived engineering school and a stint away from home in a strange city then she could handle driving a stick shift on the wrong side of the road. But still, it made her nervous.

Malcolm laughed at himself, fumbling with the stick shift as the car bumped along up a hill. “I haven’t driven myself anywhere in I can’t remember how long.”

Working a manual transmission was a skill she definitely would work on learning once she returned home. It might help her avoid this sort of trouble in the future.

Malcolm pulled into the alley, or “close,” as the Scots called it, where her hotel was located.

“I’ll be right out.” Kristin opened the door but, on second thought, turned and held out her palm to him. “May I have my car keys with me, please?”

“Why? We’re parked here illegally. Someone might ask me to move the vehicle, and then what will we do?”

“Tell them I’ll be right out,” she said sweetly, and kept her palm turned upward.

A frown line appeared on his forehead. “Kristin, do you really think I’m going to drive off and leave you here?”

She nodded. “It’s a concern, yes.”

He made a small smile. Looked into her eyes, completely unnerving her. “I won’t leave you, Kristy. I promise.”

Oh, that sexy Scottish accent. She shivered. This could be big trouble.

More shaken than before, she slammed the door and went into the small building with the gray stone facade and a brass-handled door. Inside, she quickly completed her business. Retrieved her small, carry-on suitcase from the desk clerk she’d checked it with. Left a note for Arlene that she’d met up with a “friend” and would not be back until late, but not to worry about her; she would call the hotel and leave a message for her if she wasn’t back by eight or nine o’clock.

When she wheeled her luggage back to the car, Malcolm climbed out and lifted the suitcase into the open hatchback. Standing beside him, she unzipped the front pouch and pulled out her folder full of research on the McGunnert castle.

“Where to?” he asked, once they were buckled inside the car again.

Determined to remain calm, she unfolded the large map and spread it over the dashboard. She pressed a finger to the
x
she’d drawn on the village where the castle was said to be located.

He raised a brow at her. “This is a joke, right?”

“I’m very serious.” She pointed to the key ring, swinging back and forth from the ignition switch. “You wanted to drive, now, drive.”

He laughed at her. “Kristy, if we drive all the way up there and back...” He traced the route with his finger. “Then we’ll be driving into the wee hours. Can’t you find a closer castle to visit? There are nice ones here.” He indicated an imaginary arc on the map, in an area closer to Edinburgh.

“No,” she said. “I want this one.” She pressed her
x
again.

“Did you hear what I said, Kristy?”

She stretched the beaded bracelet on her wrist.
Damn.
“I worked out the mathematics of the trip. With the speed limit and the distance we’ll be driving, I don’t see how it can possibly take that long.”

“Kristin,” he said, flustered now. “This is Scotland. Rural Scotland. Do you see any motorways on that route? No. These are twisty, mountainous roads, and on some parts of your route, we’ll most likely be driving on one-lane roads for both directions.”

Shoot, shoot, shoot. She hadn’t anticipated this problem. “But...I looked at satellite photos on the internet. It seemed perfectly doable.”

He leaned back in his seat and smiled at her. It didn’t come off as patronizing, not in the least. He looked...sexy, actually. He’d loosened his tie further and removed his suit jacket. It was folded and laying across the backseat.

He caught her looking him over, and, irritated with herself, she stared down at the folder in her lap. It contained all the internet research she’d found in the past few weeks since Burns Night, the bulk of it completed in the past three days, ever since she’d known she’d be flying into Edinburgh.

Yes, presenting her Born in Vermont proposal to Sage was the “do or die” item on her agenda. But, the opportunity to be in Scotland was also too tempting to pass up. She hadn’t been sure if there would be time to squeeze in such a side trip, but if there was, she’d been determined to be prepared.

And now, here she was. Nothing was going to stop her. Especially not
him.

“Drive,” she insisted.

He ran his hand over the steering wheel. “Hear me out, Kristy. You might not like it, but I have an idea.” He tapped his thumb against the wheel. “There’s a hotel property I know about three quarters of the way north. It’s decent. I’ve stayed there before while on business. Just to be safe, I can call and book us two rooms now, so we’ll have the reservation as a fallback.”

She squeezed her palms over her knees. She should have changed out of this too-revealing-for-comfort skirt and into her plain old jeans while she’d had the chance. “Is a hotel really necessary, Malcolm?”

“Aye. I think it is.” He nodded, his expression serious, but his Scottish burr was in full exposure now, shaking up her nerves.

He spoke on, oblivious to her discomfort. “You’re lucky it’s light out fairly late in this country. We should be able to get to your castle before nightfall, if I press the engine on this midget car, and pray it holds up.” He frowned. “But I’m not sure how safe it will be on the way back, driving the twisting roads in the dark. If conditions aren’t the best for driving, we can decide whether to use the hotel reservation or not.” He turned in the seat to peer into her eyes. “Is all this worth it to you, Kristy?”

It was her choice? Cancel her mission and remain safely in Edinburgh with Arlene and the tour group, or find her castle and be stuck in close quarters with him for the night?

She shivered. No way could she let anything physical happen with this man who was the key to Born in Vermont being implemented.

“Keep driving,” she said.

She heard his soft exhale of breath. He wasn’t pleased with her decision. So be it. He wasn’t pleased with Born in Vermont either, but she would work on that, too.

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll take the fastest route, though it might not be the most scenic.”

“That’s fine,” she said crisply. She glanced at him again. “Remind me why you’re doing this for me?”

“I’m a nice guy,” he said in his American voice.

“No, you’re not,
George.
”

He smiled sadly. “Maybe I’m hoping you’ll agree to work for us over here. The company could use your expertise with Aura.”

“Not happening, George.”

“Maybe you’ll change your mind when you see what good company I am.” He said it matter-of-factly, which made her breathe a bit easier.

“Never, George,” she said lightly.

He chuckled. “So...” He reached for his phone in the car’s console. “Do I have your permission to make that hotel reservation? And could you please call me Malcolm, Kristin?”

She chewed inside her cheek. He
had
said two rooms. This was something she would insist upon, at a minimum. “How expensive is it,
Malcolm?
”

“That’s my worry.”

“No, it’s mine, because I don’t want to be beholden to you. For
anything,
” she emphasized.

He shrugged, nonchalant. “Don’t you think I owe you for the hospitality you showed me when I was in Vermont? I’d have been lost without your help.” He glanced at her. “So. May I make the call?”

Her hackles were up. She could express her irritation—give him a list of all the complications that his lies in Vermont had made for her, but why bother? It was done and over with now. The lesson she would take out of it, however, was to remain on guard with him. Especially where it came to the physical attraction she’d been starting to so obviously feel toward him again.

“Fine,” she snapped, staring forward through the windshield. “You pay for everything.” But she made a face at him. “However, I will be clear. I am not sharing a room with you. This will be strictly business between us. You won’t charm me otherwise, so don’t be getting any ideas.”

“That’s the first time anyone has ever suggested that I might be charming,” he said.

“Because you’re not,” she retorted. “You don’t smile enough, for one thing.”

He gave her a broad grin, one that showed two dimples. She stared for a moment, fascinated. Malcolm was even showing his teeth. It was the first time she’d really seen them. One of his teeth was chipped, very slightly, and it gave him a rakish look.

She gazed up, into his sky-blue eyes. And darn it if something didn’t stir in her again. He was so good-looking when he smiled like that. His whole being lit up.

Now that she thought of it, it was
lucky
for her that he so rarely smiled.

She crossed her legs. “Please, let’s leave.”

He started the engine. The clunky little jalopy sputtered and purred to life. “Put on your seat belt,” he directed.

She buckled herself in. And as Malcolm drove them out of Edinburgh and across the bridge over the pretty firth to the north of the city, he switched to a tour guide’s narration of the sights they zoomed past.

Gradually, she relaxed a bit. As promised, he avoided talking about Sage to her. His little stories and anecdotes contained no innuendo, nothing inappropriate that she needed to worry about, just a pleasant pride in his country that was comforting to her.

And she
was
interested in Scotland—in the pretty sea sparkling in the sun, the boats on the firth, and once they were out of the city, the green everywhere, especially among the rolling hills. Malcolm’s voice was gentle and modulated, deep and rich. And strangely, the longer they drove through the countryside, the more of a soft burr his voice took on, gently lilting.

It lulled her. Her eyelids drifted closed once or twice, but each time she managed to jerk them back open. Yes, she was jet-lagged—she hadn’t slept in nearly a day—but she was in Scotland, at long last. She’d waited her whole life for this, and she wanted to see everything.

There was no time for sleep.

* * *

“K
RISTY
?” M
ALCOLM
ASKED
SOFTLY
.

He took his eyes off the road and glanced to his left. Kristin’s head bobbed forward and then snapped back. She was dozing. Jet lag, probably. He wanted to let her rest, but she needed to see the magnificent castle they were passing on their left.

He touched her arm. “Kristy?”

Immediately, she jerked awake. “Malcolm!”

“Look.” He tilted his head toward the window on her side. “Don’t you want to stop and see it?”

“Your accent...” She blinked at him, smiling, still on the brink of sleep. “It’s so nice.”

It was the Scottish talk she liked. He should speak to her more often in his native tongue; it gave excellent results. “Is that castle not enough for you?” He pointed out the window. “Do you wish to take a look?”