The Sweetest Hours (Harlequin Superromance) (18 page)

Malcolm drove the ugly white rental car up the crescent-shaped drive, stopping in front of the main doors to the castle. By now it was twilight, and the setting was utterly romantic. And utterly deserted.

Malcolm got out, took her suitcase from the hatchback and led the way inside.

He indicated that she walk before him. She’d expected a big, crumbling, drafty place, but instead, the main castle entry was nicely renovated and surprisingly homey and modern. An airy receiving room was before them, with comfortable-looking couches and a large stone fireplace, currently unlit.

“How long has your family lived here?” she asked.

“We moved in when I was young.” Malcolm had turned gloomier and quieter. He picked up a coaster with a baronial shield on it, and then replaced it on the table.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, walking the length of the great mantelpiece, carved from mahogany. “Do people ever tour the castle? Is it open to the public?”

He laughed dryly. “No.” At her questioning glance, he said, “It dates from the sixteen-hundreds, but was never open to the public. My uncle used to live here. He purchased it decades ago, but then moved to Edinburgh to be closer to our company headquarters.”

Malcolm opened the telescoping handle on her luggage. “Come. I’ll show you to a guest room upstairs.” He didn’t make eye contact with her, and she wasn’t sure why. Curious, she followed him over beautiful tartan-patterned carpets and past a lush wall tapestry that looked like unicorns in a forest.

“Is anyone home this weekend?” she asked, hurrying after him up the beautiful, wide-curving stone staircase.

“Yes, my parents and my sister are here.”

“Tell me about them. I’m looking forward to meeting your sister, in particular.”

Malcolm stopped for a moment before leading her down one of the two hallways that joined at right angles. “Rhiannon is younger than me by two years,” he said quietly, leading her down another tartan-patterned carpet. “Since she didn’t greet us, I assume she’s either walking the grounds or working in her studio.”

“You said she was a painter?” Kristin remarked.

“Yes. She’s really talented. Her oil landscapes sell to collectors all over the world.” He paused. “I have one hanging in my office in Edinburgh.”

“I’d like to see it on Monday.”

He glanced sharply at her. “We’ll talk about it later.”

One step at a time. She hadn’t expected his total capitulation, but she would insist on traveling to the city with him. After work hours, maybe she could convince him to take her on a sightseeing drive, too. She would enjoy seeing all the landmarks.

“Sounds like a plan,” she said.

Malcolm put his hand lightly on her shoulder and guided her to the bedroom she would be staying in. It was clean and welcoming with a beautifully ornate, carved four-poster bed. She felt very lucky.

“It looks like Paul made the room up for you,” Malcolm remarked.

She’d heard Malcolm place a phone call while they’d been en route, but she hadn’t known to whom. “Paul?” she asked.

“My parents’ butler.” Malcolm smiled slightly at her expression. “Don’t get too excited. Paul is the only full-time staff they have. And he’s been with us forever.” He glanced at his watch. “He’s probably serving my parents their afternoon tea now.”

Sure enough, Malcolm led Kristin downstairs again, this time to the back of the castle through a dining area with windows overlooking a garden and a small yew maze. They came to another sitting room, where the butler, Paul—a middle-aged man dressed in a black suit and tie—poured tea in a china set and served it beside another fireplace.

Though the castle was pleasant and new inside, the traditions were apparently old. Seeming to brace himself, Malcolm formally introduced his mother and father to Kristin. The four of them sat in comfortable wing chairs and sipped their tea from delicate teacups and saucers, which they placed in their laps. A far cry from dinner with her own boisterous family. Malcolm’s parents were polite and formal, by Kristin’s family’s standards.

Malcolm introduced her as “my friend from America who I invited to stay with us this week.”

That pleased Kristin. It also seemed to put his parents at ease, too. Malcolm’s father nodded to her. To Kristin, he seemed pleasant, but aristocratic in bearing. For a Saturday evening, presumably relaxing at home, he was dressed up, wearing wool pants, a collared shirt and a blue V-neck sweater the same color as his and Malcolm’s eyes.

Once tea was poured, he idly scratched his dog’s ears and chatted with Kristin about the history of the castle. He also talked to Malcolm about his gardening plans for the spring.

His mother kept smiling at Malcolm as if she wanted to get him alone. Otherwise, she was mildly pleasant to Kristin. Not overly familiar and not too distant, either. Just right.

Kristin breathed a huge sigh of relief. She didn’t want anyone to get their expectations up—or down—about her and Malcolm. As far as the world was concerned, they were just friends. Yes, she would feel better, perhaps, if he made clear that they were work colleagues, but again, it was something she could work on.

After tea, Malcolm escorted Kristin on a tour of the rest of the castle. There were three levels, ranging from a basement with a rustic kitchen, to the ground floor with the common rooms, to the second floor with eight bedrooms.

She was curious, but she didn’t ask Malcolm which bedroom was his, and he didn’t volunteer the information, either.

It would be strange, she mused, being separated from him, after last evening’s B&B bedroom share. And it was even odder that she didn’t feel ecstatic about it.

Just one full day with him, and somehow, she now felt comfortable. Attached, as half of a pair, as strange as that seemed.

She glanced up at Malcolm’s gruff expression, his hooded eyes. It was the same mask he’d worn throughout their tea with his parents. What had happened to the guy who had been so passionately kissing her, tempting her to stay longer in Scotland only a few hours ago?

“So, when can I meet your sister?” she asked brightly. She would like an ally, if she could find one. Maybe Kristin could show Malcolm’s sister some of the Born in Vermont samples she’d brought with her in her suitcase. Maybe she would like the great smell and feel of Laura’s creations, too?

Barring that, perhaps Kristin could persuade Rhiannon to be friends with her. Kristin would love someone to show her around and maybe give her some insight into Malcolm.

“I don’t know where she is,” he said.

“Hello,” a soft voice said behind them on the stair landing.

They both turned.

“Er, Kristin, this is my sister, Rhiannon. Rhiannon, this is Kristin Hart.” Malcolm’s voice was clipped and he sounded off balance.

His sister was the opposite of what Kristin had expected.

Rhiannon wore trendy jeans and a pretty, pale purple blouse with tight-fitting sleeves, a loose neck with strings, and a flowing, peasant-style bottom. It gave her a bohemian look, and it conflicted with everything Malcolm had told her about Rhiannon on the drive here, warning Kristin about her shyness and her reclusiveness.

Kristin smiled at his younger sister. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

Rhiannon ignored Kristin’s outstretched hand and, instead, leaned in to give Kristin a hug. In a lilting, rolling accent she said, “So, you must be my brother’s fiancée!”

Kristin gasped. “No!” She looked helplessly over Rhiannon’s shoulder at Malcolm.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. Without amusement, he answered his sister. “Kristin is a friend.”

Rhiannon cocked her head, a furrow in her brow. “Sorry, I just assumed.”

“Why?” Kristin asked, genuinely curious.

Rhiannon smiled sheepishly at Malcolm. “Cousin Gerry’s wedding is next weekend. I thought you were home for it.”

Malcolm groaned and closed his eyes. “Damn it, I completely forgot.”

Rhiannon turned to Kristin. “I apologize for my assumption, Kristin. But you see, my brother once told me that unless I saw him bring a woman to a family wedding, not to expect him to be getting married soon himself.”

What should she say to that? “Well, that explains that. So, ah, do you have many cousins?” she politely asked, sidestepping the controversy.

“Mum has four brothers. All except Uncle John have kids.” Rhiannon put her hands in her pockets. “So, yes, we do have a lot of cousins.” She rolled her eyes. “Ask Malcolm to tell you about it sometime.”

“I have four brothers, too,” Kristin said.

Rhiannon smiled. “Then you and Mum have lots to talk about.”

Kristin smiled back at Malcolm’s sister. Kristin liked her already.

“Let’s go take a walk on the grounds.” Malcolm put his hand lightly on the small of Kristin’s back and steered her toward the door.

His gesture seemed possessive, but not too much so. He kept his hand resting against her, and even through her thick sweater Kristin felt his touch. Admittedly it was nice, but...he was distracting her from what she was really interested in seeing. There seemed to be more to Malcolm’s private life than she would’ve guessed, and it might be helpful to find out more about what exactly that was.

Kristin looked back at Rhiannon, only to find Rhiannon staring at her, too.

“Would you like to join us?” Kristin called to Rhiannon.

“Not now,” Malcolm murmured.

“Tomorrow morning would be brilliant,” Rhiannon replied. “Malcolm,” she said to her brother, “
will
you be staying for the wedding?”

“Er...”

“Staying for the wedding sounds lovely,” Kristin said breezily.

Malcolm raised his brows at her.

“Why not? My plane ticket home to Boston isn’t for two more weeks. I’ll just let Arlene know I won’t be joining them when they go to England.”

“Boston, did you say?” Rhiannon glanced to Malcolm. “Malcolm studied in Boston.”

“Yes,” Kristin replied. “I live nearby, in Vermont. It’s a three-hour drive from Logan airport.”

“And you traveled to Scotland by yourself?” Rhiannon looked surprised. Or impressed, Kristin couldn’t tell.

“That’s enough,” Malcolm hissed before Kristin could answer his sister. He seemed distinctly uncomfortable, and Kristin did enjoy turning the tables on him for a change. It was amusing to cause him the same discomfort he’d caused her in her hometown. Of course, she wasn’t overly serious about any of it. It was just that seeing him flustered also made him seem not quite so composed, with his emotions locked away. This way, he was more accessible. More human.

Teasing him, she patted his cheek. Such a masculine face he had. He hadn’t shaved in the day and a half she’d been with him in the wilds of Scotland, and the dark stubble made him look that much more brooding and dangerous.

Not that she was frightened. In the short time she’d seen him interacting with his family, she’d become certain of two things—he was a good son and a caring brother. Add that to the fact that he was a fantastic kisser...and Kristin had to admit that Malcolm was becoming more and more attractive. She’d have to tread very carefully if she didn’t want to fall for him.

His response to her pat on the cheek was to clamp his jaw tight and grind his teeth. He steered her in a more determined fashion away from his sister and down the stairs.

They passed the kitchen on the way out to the back door. Paul, the butler, stuck out his head. “Mr. MacDowall, sir, would you like a picnic box delivered on the grounds?”

“Really?” Kristin asked Paul. “You’ll do that? Yes, please! The tea was very nice, but I was polite and didn’t really eat much. I’d
love
to try those little ham sandwiches and some of those—”

“Send it,” Malcolm growled to the butler.

“Very good, sir. I’ll find you within...” Paul glanced at his watch. “The back of six, it looks like.”

Malcolm nodded and grabbed a blanket and an umbrella from a cubbyhole in the coatroom. Holding Kristin’s hand, he pulled her far enough away from the castle that they couldn’t see the turret beyond the curve of the gentle slope they descended.

A faint pathway was visible in the pale green moor, and Malcolm followed it like a man who knew where he was going.

When they came to a dry glen protected by an overhang, and with an incredible view of the valley stretched before them, Malcolm spread the blanket. “After you,” he said.

She plopped down, and he sat beside her, tearing his hand through his hair.

“Look, I’m sorry, Kristy. I just don’t want to get Rhiannon’s hopes up that you’ll be staying around permanently if it’s not going to happen.”

“Well, I’m sorry, too. I was just having a bit of fun with you. Don’t you think it’s deserved?”

He leaned back on one elbow. “Wedding guest or no, it’s an impossible situation. Rhiannon will get crushed if you get close to her and then leave. She’s...different from most people, Kristin. She’s very sensitive. I want to spare her any hurt.”

“Okay. I can understand that.” Kristin crossed her legs and watched two majestic hawks fly past in the distance. “I’ll be clear to her that I’m not looking for anything romantic from you—temporary or long-term. I’ll let her know that I’m here for Born in Vermont.”

He nodded curtly. “If you don’t mind, I’d like us to call a truce on it. A time-out with the Born in Vermont question, at least until Monday.” He gazed at her. “I’ll drive you to Edinburgh then. It’ll take us three hours down, three hours back, but for a good part of it, we’ll be on a fast, safe, dual-lane carriageway. Then, when I’m in the office, you can tour the Royal Mile and the museums. I’ll find a top-notch guide to escort you, if you want, and we’ll meet for lunch at midday.”

“I’m here for Born in Vermont, not to sightsee, Malcolm,” she said gently. “I will go to Edinburgh with you, but we need to discuss the particulars about Born in Vermont sometime, you know.”

“I know. Lunch on Monday is what I prefer. After I’ve reviewed the confidential contract we signed with Jay Astley, then I’ll have a better idea of how you and I should go forward.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “With your permission, I’ll bring my uncle to lunch with us.”

Her heart beat faster. “You’ll take me to a lunch meeting with your uncle?”