The Sweetest Hours (Harlequin Superromance) (26 page)

“Thank you,” Kristin said.

“That’s why I was interested in seeing Malcolm’s projections.” His uncle held up their report. “I read your revised proposal. I can see that a lot of effort has gone into it, on both your parts. This is a well-thought-out plan.”

“So, what’s your decision?” Malcolm asked.

His uncle tilted his head. “You and I both know that, while I would do anything for you and Rhiannon, this investment doesn’t fit with our established business strategy.”

Malcolm heard Kristin exhale. Under the table, he clasped her hand and squeezed it. To his uncle, he calmly nodded.

“You’re right,” Malcolm agreed. “It doesn’t.” But he stared at his uncle, placing both palms on the table. “I’m asking you to move forward with it anyway.”

His uncle put his finger to his lips. Silently he contemplated Malcolm.

Malcolm maintained the stare.

“There’s one thing I can do for you,” his uncle said finally. “Take next week off, with my blessing. You never vacation. Spend a vacation with Ms. Hart. Enjoy yourselves.” He smiled indulgently again at Kristin.

Malcolm gritted his teeth. “And
then?
”

“I’m sorry.” His uncle stood. He didn’t look sorry at all. “If you want to carry on with this, Malcolm, you’ll need to think about it in a different way. As it is, Born in Vermont isn’t right for us. That’s all I have to offer you.” He turned to leave.

Malcolm scraped back his chair and stepped in front of him. “We’re not finished yet.”

“Wait!” Kristin interrupted.

Malcolm blinked as she moved between them. “I have a say in this, too.” She smiled at Malcolm, as if to smooth everything over. “You’re right,” she said brightly. “Born in Vermont isn’t right for Sage Family Products. I’ll simply have to return home next week and see what else I can do.” She held out her hand to him. “Please, take care, sir. And thank you for your time.”

Malcolm stared at her, dumbfounded. What was she doing? They had gone over this: besides this proposal, there was no other solution that would help her get what she wanted. By stopping Malcolm and agreeing with his uncle, she was working against her own best interests.

His uncle took Kristin’s hand in both of his. Malcolm didn’t think he’d ever seen that happen before. “Goodbye, my dear,” John Sage murmured. “It truly was a pleasure to meet you.”

He turned to Malcolm. “Please give Rhiannon my regrets. But of anyone, she understands why I need to keep our financial position strong.”

* * *

T
WENTY
MINUTES
LATER
Rhiannon called Malcolm on his mobile phone. Malcolm picked up, dreading what he would say to her. He was still in bafflement over what Kristin had done.

“Yes,” he said, putting the phone to his ear.

“What happened with Uncle John?” Rhiannon asked. “Did you get what you want from him?”

Malcolm’s grip tightened on the phone. Beside him Kristin’s clear green eyes regarded his.

Malcolm tilted the phone and gestured her closer, so she could participate in the conversation with Rhiannon, too.

In the background, music played, so he spoke loud enough for Rhiannon to hear him. “Uncle is...taking the decision under advisement,” Malcolm said into the phone.

“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Rhiannon asked.

“We need to be prepared for anything.” He glanced at Kristin and she calmly met his gaze again.

“What you did for us... I won’t ever forget that,” Malcolm said to his sister. “That was beautiful of you, Rhiannon.”

Rhiannon made a small, pleasured laugh. “You’re my brother. We do what we can for each other.”

She disconnected and the call ended. With Kristin’s gaze still locked to his, Malcolm tucked his phone into the sporran hanging on his belt. “Why did you do that in there?” he asked.

“Because we’re a team, Malcolm.” She leaned against the edge of the now-cold stone fireplace in the empty dining room away from everyone else. From across the castle came a muted shout from the Scottish reels.

With one hand, she pulled him close to her. “What your uncle said to us was right.”

“Kristy,” he chided, shaking his head because her bare legs rubbing against his bare legs, in his kilt, was distracting to him. “Er, I could have convinced him to—”

She put her finger to his lips, stopping him from continuing in that vein.

“No one has ever championed me like that, Malcolm. You believed in me. You didn’t tell me what to do. And you didn’t take from me. I’ve never been equal partners like that.”

“Kristy...”

“And even apart from the Born in Vermont business, I will cherish our time together. And I
am
taking that vacation with you next week, by the way. Now shut up and come dance with me, before I’m enticed by some other braw Scotsman.”

He laughed. “You’re crazy if you think I’ll let that happen.”

“My God,” she mused, “do you know how damn good you look when you smile? And in that fantastic kilt?” She brushed her fingers through the pleats that ended at his knees, and shook her head in wonder.

A man with a passing tray offered them a flute of champagne. Malcolm snagged one and offered it to her first.

“No, I don’t want any liquor clouding my perceptions,” she said. “I want to remember every detail of this night.”

“Kristy...”

“Malcolm, do you want to dance with me or not, you big, dumb Highlander?”

He grinned at her, because they both knew that the last thing he was, was dumb. He knew a great woman when he saw her.

Later, when he and Kristin were inside an alcove, stealing a private moment alone together after twenty straight minutes of cousins and reels, he asked her, “Do you still want to spend next week with me even if I can’t give you want you want?”

She gave him a long, deep kiss, her hands lingering on the edges of his kilt. “I’m with you because I want to be with you, Malcolm. Can’t that be enough?”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

E
IGHT
DAYS
LATER
, Kristin stood with Malcolm inside his Edinburgh apartment. Her suitcase was packed, and it was time for her to use her plane ticket and travel home.

True to his word, Malcolm had taken the whole week off from work. He’d been a tourist in his own country, he’d said. They’d spent an amazing week together, the past three days holed up in a private cottage on the wild coast of the intensely secluded, beautiful island of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides.

But now their time was over.

“Will you please drive me to the airport?” she asked Malcolm. “I want to spend every remaining minute with you possible.”

A muscle moved in his jaw. She knew he wasn’t happy about her leaving. But thankfully, he hadn’t said anything to try to get her to stay. She hadn’t wanted him to say anything. She needed to do this.

“I’ll call a car for you,” he said.

She bit back her disappointment. But she watched him pull out his phone, head to the front window of his apartment, overlooking a long stretch of the Firth of Forth in the distance.

While he spoke on the phone in a low voice, he kept his face to the window.

She completely understood. He didn’t want to have to actually say goodbye to her.

She pulled her purse over her shoulder and adjusted her woolen beret. Her flashlight was tucked in to her luggage that she would check. Her new phone was buried inside her purse. She carried only her passport and airline ticket in the big front pocket of her coat.

Yes, she was leaving for home. Malcolm finished his call and went over to sit on the couch beside her. His feet were bare. She moved her feet, clad in her traveling boots, beside his.

“So this is it,” she said. “Thank you for everything. I’ll text to let you know when I get home safely.”

He nodded, a lock of hair falling across his face. Tenderly, she pushed it out of the way.

His phone buzzed. He checked the screen. “The car is here.”

She stood. He rose, too.

“Goodbye,” she said.

“Yes. Goodbye.” He smiled for her. One last gift that lit up his face the way she loved it so.

She smiled back at him, grateful.

Telescoping open the handle for her suitcase, she headed for the door. The thing that she was most thankful for was that Malcolm didn’t try to push her, tell her what to do or tie her down. He was giving her the freedom that she needed.

She
needed
to go home. She needed to show herself that she had strength inside, that
she
was in charge of her life.

At the threshold, she paused to smile again at Malcolm. He made a small smile, too, and raised one hand to her. Then he stuffed his fists into the front pockets of his jeans, his biceps slightly flexing under a soft, navy blue T-shirt. He looked so sexy to her; he made her ache.

She turned her head and skipped down the stairs to the street before she changed her mind. Outside the air was damp, a “Scotch mist,” as Malcolm called it.

She passed her suitcase to the driver, who loaded it into his car trunk. She looked up to Malcolm’s windows. She saw the outline of his face inside, watching her, but she could not see his expression.

One last time, she waved as she stepped into the backseat of the car. Malcolm let her go, and that was the best gift he could have given her.

* * *

M
ALCOLM
SAT
SLUMPED
on his office couch at work. As soon as she’d left, he’d dressed and walked across the city in the mist that had soon turned into a heavy rain. He felt as empty and desolate as the sidewalks in the wake of the storm. He thought he’d been doing the right thing with Kristin, but now he wasn’t sure.

He turned the letter he’d saved for her over and over in his hands. She’d forgotten all about it. If she’d asked to read it before she left, he would have given it to her, gladly, with relief and with hope.

He got up and ran the letter through the office shredder.

He was still staring at the chopped-up pieces in the litter bin when his mobile phone rang. He jumped, but it was the ringtone for Rhiannon.

“Cheers,” he said to his sister. No matter what happened, he would always keep a positive outlook for her.

“Did you tell her that you love her?” Rhiannon demanded.

He closed his eyes and slumped back on the couch. “No.”

“You need to tell her, Malcolm. She deserves to know.”

Maybe so. He blew out a breath. Now it was too late, though.

“What happened with Born in Vermont?” Rhiannon asked him. “You never told me.”

He tapped his finger against the edge of his phone. At some point, he’d been expecting her question; he just didn’t want to hear it today. He’d been dreading telling Rhiannon the truth.

“Sage isn’t going to invest in Kristy’s company, are we, Malcolm?” she asked.

Malcolm sighed. “No.” He waited for Rhiannon’s depressed silence.

“But...
somebody
is going to buy it, right?” Rhiannon said.

Malcolm sat up. He felt the force of the revelation. “Somebody might, I guess.”

“Are
you
that somebody, Malcolm?”

“No, I don’t have...” He scratched his head. He’d been going to say he didn’t have that kind of money at his disposal. But, he did have connections. He knew people in Boston who had money, in the business community there. People with deep pockets who were searching for good investment opportunities.

Another fundamental rule of business Malcolm had forgotten: just because a deal was bad or good for one outfit, didn’t mean it was bad or good for all.

He stood and walked to the windows. The rain had stopped. On the street, taxis, lorries and double-decker buses rolled by. A massive pattern of commerce, businesses and people interacting with each other.

He ran his hand through his hair. Rhiannon had jogged something in him. Born in Vermont was a good product line, it just wasn’t a good product line for
Sage.
But that didn’t mean Malcolm couldn’t find an investment group to buy a controlling interest in the brand and in the plant. In fact, he was sure he could get his uncle to provide the brand and formulations and use of the factory rent-free for an equity stake in the new company.

Malcolm nearly laughed aloud. Evaluating companies was what he did for a living, but with Kristin, he hadn’t been able to be objective. Now, back in his office—and thanks to his sister—he had a solution that would work for everyone.

“Thank you, Rhiannon,” he said before ending the call.

But he was already swiveling in his chair, turning on his computer and bringing up his contact list. He’d gone to school in Boston, and he still knew people there. And Boston was not that far from Vermont....

A few hours later, he phoned his sister back. “Rhiannon, do you know you’re a genius?”

“Of course I do.” She laughed. “Will you come by for dinner on Sunday?”

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

T
HE
FIRST
TIME
that Kristin noticed she missed Malcolm, it came as a shock to her system. She was inside the airport in Edinburgh, purchasing a bottle of water before her flight boarded, and a woman in the shop said something funny to her.

Automatically, Kristin turned to relay it to Malcolm, so they could laugh together. But then, she remembered that Malcolm wasn’t there.

Kristin nibbled her lip. Maybe it was because she and Malcolm had spent most of the past week in each other’s back pockets, so to speak. A romantic vacation, the first four days spent driving all over Scotland together—east to west and north to south—exploring the mountains and the lochs and the seacoast, and compromising between staying in country B&Bs and full-service, city hotels. It hadn’t mattered to Kristin where their bed was, as long as she’d had Malcolm beside her at night.

Kristin smiled dreamily, standing in the middle of that airport gift shop and caressing a magnet in the image of the flag of Scotland.

Yes, she decided, Malcolm was the fantasy man she had always imagined.

Still, Kristin mused, as she made her way through the bustle of the airport terminal, she’d always figured that it was a very good possibility that the newness and the joy she felt in being with Malcolm might wear off. But how was she to know for sure?

One thing she did know, her time with Malcolm had been healing for her. All these years, and she hadn’t known what she’d been missing. Now she would never have a need to go back to that worried, skittish woman she had been before she’d stepped on the plane to Scotland.

As she boarded her plane back to America, she felt free and independent. She had gone on a grand adventure.

Once she got home she waited for relief to come, the feeling of having escaped from being tied down.

But three days passed, and it still hadn’t arrived.

She missed Malcolm with an ache that she hadn’t known possible, and it only grew worse with each day.

* * *

O
N
M
ONDAY
MORNING
, Kristin showed up to begin her last few paid weeks at the old Aura Botanicals plant—its sign officially taken down—before the company was closed for good. The first person she saw when she buzzed her way into the building was Andrew.

He stood in the entrance leading to the managerial offices. Lowering his coffee mug, he scowled at her, eyeing her up and down. “What are you doing here?” he asked with a sneer.

Good question. Kristin glanced around the factory. “No one has packed up the equipment yet. It’s still here.”

“No thanks to you,” Andrew snapped.

“Actually, it
is
thanks to me.” She put her hands on her hips. “You may not know it, Andrew, but I went over to Scotland, and because I put myself on the line, I was able to get extra time and money for everybody here. Including you.” She pointed at him. “Exactly what have
you
done to help?”

Andrew’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth, but he didn’t say a word.

After he walked away, she just sighed. Standing up for herself gave her a small amount of personal satisfaction, but she couldn’t help think that it wouldn’t bring Malcolm back to her.

She did miss him. She missed him every aching moment.

She missed him when she woke up. When she ate breakfast. When she walked to work alone—with her flashlight, because some old habits weren’t so unwise after all.

But now, no Malcolm meant no one interesting to talk with. No one funny to joke with. No one sexy to share her bed.

If she was a free spirit, as Malcolm so often called her, then to her, he’d been a free spirit flying right along beside her. And she had taken pleasure in having him there with her.

She
had changed.

Struck with her insight, Kristin went home to her apartment that night, pulled out her suitcase and packed some clothes.

On Tuesday, she went in to work and told Andrew she was quitting, which only made him laugh hysterically, because wasn’t everyone going to be out of work in a few weeks anyway?

Kristin headed to Cookie’s Place to break her decision to Stephanie.

“What are you doing?” Stephanie insisted. “This is because of
that man,
isn’t it? He lied to you, Kristin. He lied to all of us.”

Yes, he had, once. “He won’t do it again,” she said.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I am. I learned everything about him that I could. Just like I learned everything about you that I could when we were kids.”

Stephanie frowned and slid a plate of her excellent New England apple pie across the counter to Kristin. She couldn’t say much more than that.

Kristin sat at a stool and picked up a fork to dig in. She was going to miss these daily chats with Stephanie where she was headed.

Stephanie refilled a napkin dispenser and then sat down beside Kristin. “So, what are you doing to do now?”

“Simple, really,” Kristin said to Stephanie. “I’m going to take my new passport and fly to Scotland. Then, I’m going to rent a car and head to a place called Byrne Glennie.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Maybe.” She paused, her fork halfway to her mouth, remembering the looks on the faces of the people in the plant there, who’d seen her embracing Malcolm. “Maybe not.” She licked her fork and smiled to herself.

Her future coworkers would just have to get used to her, wouldn’t they? Because she was pretty sure that if she begged Malcolm nicely, she could still get him to give her that job. That was one favor he had solidly in his power.

“What are you going to do at Byrne Glennie?” Stephanie asked, breaking into Kristin’s thoughts.

“Accept a job I was offered there, that’s what.”

“But in Scotland?” her mom said, leaning over to wipe the counter beside Kristin. “That’s a terrible idea. Scotland is cold.”

“Sometimes,” Kristin agreed.

“And wet.”

“Yes, often it is.”

“And it’s not near your family. That’s terribly risky. What will you do if something happens to you? Kristin...” Her mom spread her arms. “Something will come up for work here in Vermont. You’ll see.”

“I’m sure it will, Mom.”

“But how is that safe to just pick up and leave?” her mom insisted.

“Because
I’m
safe,” Kristin replied.

And she was. Her adventure had taught her that she could take care of herself. She didn’t need to stay in Vermont and hide behind anybody else’s views that weren’t her own.

Next, she needed to call Malcolm and tell him she was coming.

She also needed to tell him that she loved him.

She went home and picked up her suitcase. On the way out of town, she stopped again at Cookie’s Place, since by now school was over and she knew she could find Lily there, too.

To both Stephanie and Lily, she said, “I love you, guys. I’m going to make sure you come and visit me. I will send plane tickets for both of you in the summer, you just wait.”

“Um, Kristin,” Stephanie said. “When is the last time you stopped by Aura Botanicals?”

“Nine o’clock this morning, and by the way, it’s not called Aura Botanicals anymore.”

“I think you should get over there, right now, before you go anywhere else,” Stephanie said.

“And why is that?” Kristin asked.

Stephanie smiled. “Because somebody is over there showing around a group of new investors.” She leaned closer with a wink and whispered, “I’m told he’s a very handsome Highlander, with the best Scottish accent you’ve ever heard. And guess what—his name totally isn’t George Smith. Who would have guessed?”

Kristin’s heart nearly burst in her chest. “He’s here? Malcolm is here!”

And she dropped her suitcase and raced across the street to the plant.

She didn’t have her employee badge anymore, so she banged on the window until somebody saw her and let her inside.

Malcolm had gathered the other managers inside Andrew’s old conference room. Kristin heard Malcolm’s voice before she saw him. Her heart soared.

“With your help,” Malcolm was announcing to them, “I’ll keep the Aura plant open for the specialty Born in Vermont line. These are the investors who are buying the plant, under my direction.” He indicated three men, all wearing suits, standing behind him.

Barely able to keep from squealing aloud, Kristin squeezed into the audience beside Dirk.

“Hey, Kristin,” Dirk said. “I thought you quit your job.”

“I did.” But she hadn’t quit Malcolm.

* * *

M
ALCOLM
SAW
K
RISTIN
, and his voice actually wavered. Slowly he let out his breath. He’d really had no idea what he would find when he’d returned with a group of investors interested in buying the Born in Vermont brand. He’d hammered out a deal where his uncle would get twenty percent in exchange for the use of the brand name and formulations, and a large reduction in rent on the factory.

He’d just finished telling everyone the news, when he’d noticed her face in the crowd. He’d wrapped up his talk as quickly as he could, then went over to her.

“Malcolm.” Her face was ablaze with happiness.

Calmness settled over him. He had absolutely done the right thing.

“May we talk in your office?” he asked her.

She bit her lip as if she had a secret to tell him, too, and grinning, said, “Let’s go.”

It was all he could do to keep from pulling her to him. But he had to be sure that his solution was right for her, so, stoically, he just nodded. With his breath held, he followed her down the short, familiar corridor, past the old break room, the coffee machines that made the loud noises, and into the tiny corner office tucked in the back, where he was sure he would find a space heater and a table spread with engineering drawings.

The door was wide open. He followed her inside.

But...her space heater was gone. The table was empty. The bookshelves with her personal things cleared off.

“Kristin?” he asked. “Did Andrew let you go? Because I’m telling you, he no longer—”

She pulled him to her. With her foot, clad in a high heel, she nudged the door closed. “I quit, Malcolm,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye. “I quit this morning.”

“You...” He shook his head, not comprehending. All he could think about was how beautiful she looked. With his thumb he caressed her cheek, nudged her hair from her face. He drew her closer to him, wanting so badly to kiss her that he could taste the longing.

“Malcolm, I was traveling to
you,
” Kristin said.

“But I—I...” He shook his head, remembering. This had to be her choice. He could not dictate to her what to do. “You’re welcome to whatever job you would like...in Scotland or Vermont, or both or neither.”

What was he doing? “No...scratch all that. Kristy, the most important thing I came here to tell you is that I love you. I want a relationship with you. Long-term. A commitment where I promise to never tell you what to do, or to...what word did you use?
Trample
you.”

Laughing, Kristin nibbled on his ear. “It’s okay if you want to make suggestions once in a while, Malcolm.” She kissed him, teasing at first, and then tender, with a sigh. Her eyes grew moist, and she wiped the corner with the heel of her hand.

“Kristy?” he murmured tenderly.

“I’m thrilled with what you’ve done for Born in Vermont, and for my hometown. But I know what I want, Malcolm.” She paused. “Take me back to Scotland with you, please,” she whispered.

“Honestly? That’s really what you want?”

She nodded, blinking harder now. “I love you, Malcolm.” Her face seemed to crumple with happiness.

“Say that again, love.”

“I
love
you.”

He threw back his head and laughed with joy. Of all the sweetest hours. This one topped them all.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from CAUGHT UP IN YOU by Beth Andrews.