The Trouble with Scotland (23 page)

He opened the door, shirtless, his hair a mess, and a mean scowl on his face. “I'm here.”

“Good. I heard ye were back. We need to talk. First, I need some tea.” She went to the sofa and sat.

He sighed heavily, following her. “What is it that ye want?”

“Less attitude. And tea,” Deydie said. “Earl Grey or oolong. Then ye and I are going to talk.”

When he didn't move from his spot, Deydie got angry. “I don't have all day. The wedding is almost here and there's still a damned lot of work that has to get done.”

Ross went into the kitchen, put the kettle on, and then took the wing chair beside the sofa. “Tell me what's on yere mind.”

These were desperate times, desperate times, indeed. “I need ye to keep Sadie in town.”

“What? She's leaving today. And ye're the one who told me to stay away from her.”

“It's really Oliver. We need the lad here in Gandiegow.”

“Her brother told me to stay away from her, too.”

Deydie leaned forward. “I don't care what he said; this is for his own good. And Gandiegow's. He loves
Kirsty, and he needs the right kind of push to marry her. The whole town needs him. If we're to keep the Kilts and Quilts retreat top-notch, then he has to stay and do our
computering
.”

Ross looked away, muttering to himself.

“Speak up,” Deydie said. “Me ears aren't what they used to be.”

“And Sadie? How do ye propose I make her stay? Handcuffs?”

“I don't care. If handcuffs is what ye have to use, then I'll look the other way. But I'd prefer that ye keep out of her bed.”

“Oh, good grief.” Ross's cheeks turned red.

Deydie smacked the coffee table. “Ye have a way with the lass. We've all seen it.” And, well, it seemed as if the Almighty was on Ross's side—He'd sent a storm to keep Sadie here long enough to see the lad again. That was a strong sign in Deydie's book.

“I don't want to do this,” he said.

“But ye will,” Deydie countered.

Ross looked away and ran a hand through his hair. “When are they scheduled to leave?”

“At five this evening. That's why ye have no time to waste.”

The kettle whistled. Ross unfolded himself from the chair and went to the kitchen.

Deydie rose, too, and spotted a plate on the counter. “I'm going to skip the tea. But I'll take one or two of Maggie's oatcakes on my way out.”

*   *   *

Sadie lay awake all night, replaying every second of what had happened in this bed. If she went over it enough
times, then maybe she could change the outcome.
Complete insanity
. She might've dozed, but her brain had never turned off. She just couldn't believe Ross had left like that. Yes, she'd told him to go, but not before he was nearly dressed and halfway out the door. He'd taken off as if a rocket had been strapped to his backside and lit. Bam—he was out of here!

Just another abandonment. Her parents' deaths. Gigi's heart attack. CKD robbing her of a normal future. And then to not have five minutes of joy after experiencing the most wonderful encounter. She would never forgive Ross.

But that wouldn't be fair.

He was right. It was her fault. He'd said he didn't want to be near her, or that he couldn't be, or some such statement . . . she couldn't remember which. But she'd just had to have her way and seduce him. To act so tough, saying he'd have to deal with it if she used him. But he hadn't dealt with it. She buried her face in her hands, trying to hold back the tears. She'd ruined everything. He was her friend and she'd run him off. She owed him an apology for putting him in such an awkward situation and forcing him to make love to her.

Well . . . had she really
forced
him? “Argh! I don't know!” She was going nuts.

Someone was knocking at the front door. Surely they would go away, if she ignored them. Instead, she heard them come in.
Them
was really one person, if she heard the footsteps right. And she knew those footsteps. Sadie pulled her quilt over her head. She couldn't deal with him now.

He tapped at her bedroom door. “Sadie? It's me, Oliver. Can I come in?”

“I'm still mad at you,” she said.

Oliver opened the door. “I know. But one day, you'll understand why I couldn't tell you.”

“I'm not a child! I understand now. But I'm still angry.” And if she was willing to admit it, maybe she was angrier at Gigi than at him. But that made her feel guilty in ways she couldn't explore right now.

“I need to talk to you.” He sat on the end of the bed.

“You're acting weird. What's wrong?”

He examined the pattern on the quilt. “This looks familiar. Did you and Gigi make a quilt like this?”

She sat up and propped herself against the wall. Being sleep deprived made her impatient. “Out with it, Ollie. What has you being so nice?”
And had her being direct
.

“I have a favor to ask.”

Well, that was a switch. He wasn't one to ask so much as issue marching orders.

“Go on,” she said, kind of intrigued.

“I want to see if we can stay a while longer. I'm not done setting up the computers for the school. I also have a list of repairs I've agreed to make for various folks around town.”

Sadie knew what he was really looking for . . . more time with Kirsty. “You can stay. I'll go home.”

He shook his head. “I know that. But I would feel better if you were here with me.”

Some things never changed. He wanted to keep an eye on her.

“I'm a grown woman, Oliver.”

He looked at her with earnestness. “I know. I'm working on seeing you that way. Be patient with me. Kirsty
said to tell you that I'm a work in progress, especially when it comes to you.”

Sadie knew she liked that girl for some reason. “Kirsty has a good head on her shoulders.”

Oliver gazed out the window across the room. “I
really
like her, Sade.”

“I know you do.” And Sadie could feel herself caving.

The most vulnerable look she'd ever seen came over his face. “Can you do this one thing for me? Please?”

“You need to see where this leads,” she said for him. “To see if it's real?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?” she asked. Would she be stuck here forever while Oliver made up his mind?

“Another week? Until after the wedding?” He almost seemed like the little boy she remembered before their parents had died. Excited. As though he was sure he was getting a new bike for his birthday or something.

She nodded. “All right. I'll do it. For you.” She would be miserable, but at least one of them would be happy.

R
oss watched with disgust as Deydie lumbered out the door. He didn't have much time, not nearly enough to come up with a real plan. Five o'clock was only nine short hours away. Hurriedly, he showered, dressed, and skipped breakfast in lieu of finding Sadie and saying something to make her stay.

He was doing this for Deydie . . .
not himself
.
He
wanted Sadie gone. He was exhausted from thinking about her all the time. And he was tired of losing sleep. Last night, after he'd ruined their lovemaking—no, sex—he hadn't slept well at all.

He just hoped to God that he was given the right words before he got across town to Thistle Glen Lodge. And that she didn't find something more lethal than a pillow to lob at his worthless head. He was halfway there and he still had nothing.

“Ross? Hey, Ross, can ye come here for a moment?” Doc was coming out of the General Store with a package of disposable diapers under his arm.

“I'm in a hurry.”

“I only need a minute,” Doc said. “I need an extra set of hands to move Angus's crib.”

“Okay. But only if it's quick.” Ross followed him to the doctor's quarters, now not only worried about what he was going to say to Sadie but about time running out.

Deydie would be upset with him if he didn't complete his mission.

Doc glanced over. “Maybe ye should tell me what's troubling you while you have a chance.” He opened the door to the doctor's quarters and motioned for Ross to head upstairs. “Emma isn't home.”

Maybe he
should
talk to Gabe. Ross remembered how it had been with Gabe and Emma: at war with each other one minute and married the next. Maybe Gabe could help him sort out his feelings for Sadie—or at least give him an idea of how to get Sadie to stay. But how to explain?

“What's going on?” Gabe asked.

“It's Deydie,” Ross said.

Doc followed him up, shaking his head in complete understanding. “It usually is. What is she up to now?” He opened the door and motioned to Ross. “The crib's in our bedroom.”

“So?” Ross looked confused.

“Ye'll understand when you have yere own bairns. I'm taking a stand. I'm kicking Angus out of our room. I want my wife back.”

“How is Emma going to feel about it?” Ross figured Doc would probably have to sleep with Dominic's pig, Porco, in the lean-to behind the restaurant.

“In exchange, I'll take care of the lad at night. She'll
agree to it. I have my ways, plus she's sleep deprived. Now, back to Deydie. What has she done?”

Ross understood about being sleep deprived. If he wasn't, he probably wouldn't tell Doc what was going on. “Deydie wants me to find a way to keep Sadie in town.”

“Ye don't sound happy about it.” Gabe grabbed one side of the crib. “Why don't you just ask her to stay?”

“I may have done something to complicate things,” Ross admitted.

“I see,” Gabe said, as though he knew perfectly well what had happened. He pulled the crib away from the wall. “Get the other end there.”

“If there was a way to keep her here without me actually asking her to stay, I wish I knew what it was. What would make you stay, if you were in her position?”

Doc seemed to be thinking about it as the two of them tilted the crib on its side and angled it through the door.

“Well, maybe if you had a terrible accident. But you might not want to maim yereself for
Deydie's
sake
.
” Doc paused for a second. “Or . . .”

Ross was really feeling desperate. Maybe getting his arm caught in the conveyor at the North Sea Valve Company like Ramsay had done wasn't a bad idea. But would it be dire enough for Sadie to agree to stay on? “Or what?”

“My wife wouldn't approve of what I'm about to say. And I don't condone this either.”

“Condone what?”

“I'll tell you exactly what to say, and I'll back you up. But if you ever tell anyone that this was my idea, I'll call ye a liar in front of the whole damn town and then kick yere arse afterward for blabbing.”

“Just tell me,” Ross said as they pushed the crib up against the wall in its new room, the nursery.

“If I were you . . .” Then Doc told him the plan.

*   *   *

Sadie lay in bed for a long time before dragging herself out and taking a shower. There were plenty of things for her to do today now that she wasn't going home. She could work more on Quilting Central's library, sew on Gigi's memory quilt, or pretend that Ross had sailed off to Mars.

But that wouldn't fix the ache in her heart.

As she was drying off, she heard a knock at the front door. She slipped on her robe, tied the knot, and went to answer it.

Ross stood there with his duffel bag in hand.

Which made no sense. Hadn't she banished him to Mars? And she couldn't see him now. She hadn't figured anything out yet.

The man didn't wait for her to speak, but came in. “Sorry about this, lass. Doc said I should stay here. Medical emergency.”

Sadie scanned him from top to bottom, seeing only gorgeousness. “Bullsh—”

He put a finger across her lips, stopping her. “Listen. Will ye? While I was away, ye know, on the
Betsy Lane
—”

She cut him off. “So that was her name. How was she? Better than me?” Sadie had a lot of anger built up—at herself, at him—and she hadn't gotten any rest.

“The lobster boat, Sadie. Her name is
Betsy Lane
,” he said patiently as if she was dim-witted. He set his duffel down.

“I know what you meant.” She walked down the
hallway into the living room, trying to put some distance between them. She couldn't think clearly with him so close.

Ross followed. “I just got word that one of the crew members has come down with the measles. My bunkmate, Rabbie. The problem is that I've been exposed. And I don't want to give it to anyone else.”

She turned around to see if Ross was lying, but he wasn't meeting her eyes. She had to hand it to him though. It took guts to walk back in here after he'd hightailed it out so fast only, what, nine hours before?

“Any chance I could get some breakfast?” he asked. “I rushed right over to Doc's . . .”

Ross had trailed off and was staring at her robe as if remembering how she'd peeled out of it earlier.

Finally he pulled his eyes away. Hopefully, he didn't realize that she was naked under there this time. Unfortunately, she was well aware, and she heated up at the mere reminder of how wonderful it had been being underneath him while he made love to her.

Concentrate.
She took a deep breath. “Why did you need to rush to Doc's?”

“I needed to find out what to do. Ye know, because of baby Irene.” Ross's expression was sincere, but there was a small glint in his eyes that said he was enjoying himself.

“Hasn't she been vaccinated against the measles?”

He shook his head. “Nay. She won't get her vaccination until she's a year old. Doc says it's very dangerous for her to be exposed, too. Good thing I haven't seen any of the family yet.”

“Really? Where did you sleep after you left here last night?”

He didn't miss a beat. “On the family boat.”

She could tell that was clearly a lie. “And where did you shower this morning? Off the pier?”

“Doc's,” he said as if rehearsed.

“And why exactly are you staying here instead of next door at Duncan's Den?”

His expression fell. “Too many memories.” The pain that creased his brow was absolutely genuine.

“Sorry.”

“Doc says it's best if I'm here, in case I do come down with the measles. There's no one in town who'd have time to nurse me, except you. Of course, ye won't be able to leave today. Ye'll have to wait until I'm out of the woods.”

She shook her head and asked sardonically, “How long will that be?”

“The incubation period is seven to twenty-one days. If I don't get sick in the next three weeks, then ye're free to leave.”

“I'll give you a week. It's the best I can do.” And it would give her a chance to apologize for forcing him into her bed . . . after she figured out some way to say it.

“You—?” He seemed shocked that she'd agreed, and so quickly. Of course, he didn't know about Oliver's visit earlier, and she had no intention of telling him.

“I'll take it,” he finally said. “But if I get sick after ye leave, it'll be on yere head.”

“Wait a minute,” Sadie said, her brain finally catching up. Sleep deprivation and his damned good looks were muddying the waters for her. “Haven't
you
been vaccinated against the measles?”

“Yes and no. I missed my booster. I should've had it five years ago. Doc checked the date.”

“And what about me?” Sadie said, but she already knew the answer. “Aren't you worried about infecting me?”

“My question exactly, but Doc says you had a booster before you came to Scotland.”

Which she had. And Doc MacGregor knew that because Oliver had given him her medical file.

“I'm having a hard time believing that you're going to stay quarantined in this quilting dorm for the next three weeks.”

He looked stumped for a second, but recovered. “Doc said I can go fishing. John and Ramsay got their boosters on time.”

She had to hand it to Ross. He'd done well on his answers. The problem was she was out of questions.

*   *   *

Ross had to congratulate himself for not getting thrown out in the first three seconds. By the look she was giving him, she wasn't buying the whole measles-exposure-thing, but she wasn't calling him on it either. He pushed his luck further. “Now,” he said, “can I have some breakfast?”

“Help yourself. I'm getting dressed.” She was still mad at him, clipping her words, as if throwing stones.

He blocked her path and laid his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened, but didn't blow past him.

He bent down a little so she could see his face, and to know that he spoke the truth. “I'm sorry for how I acted last night. I was a cad. A complete and utter fool.”

Her eyes said she agreed with him.

He went on before she could voice it. “For all my talk about what good men do and don't do, well, I was terrible. I hope you can forgive me. I never should've left like I did, or blamed you for that matter.”

She hung her head, sighing. “No. You were right. I am to blame. At least for part of it.” She paused, a blush creeping into her cheeks as if she was remembering how she'd kissed the hell out of him. “I never should've forced you into having sex with me.”

“That's not exactly what happened.”

Her eyes met his. “But I hope you'll forgive me just the same.”

He grinned at her. “On one condition.” He shouldn't do it, but he couldn't help himself as his eyes drifted down to her robe. “I promise to forgive you for forcing me to take ye to bed, if ye tell me what you have on underneath there.” The way she chewed her bottom lip for a brief second, he knew she liked how much she turned him on.

In the next moment, she shot him a stern look that said he'd lost all rights to seeing her cute little body. “You can ask all you want, but I'm not saying.”

He touched a strand of her wet hair. “Well, I'm yere man, if ye need assistance with a zipper. Or anythin'.”

She raised her eyebrows and stared at him pointedly to let him know that he still wasn't off the hook.

He let go of her hair and stepped aside.

She walked away, but paused. “You can have one of the bedrooms upstairs. We don't even have to see each other while you're here.”

“I was hoping to share with ye. I'll be lonely upstairs all by myself,” he said, forlornly.

“I'm sure you'll survive.” As if to escape, she hurried toward her room.

But his stride was longer than hers, and he came up from behind, touching her arm. It was as if he could feel
her soft skin underneath, the memory still powerful of how they'd been together. He'd been playing with her since he'd gotten to the dorm this morning—except when he'd apologized—but playtime was over. A wave of seriousness washed over him. “But lass . . .”

She looked into his eyes.

“Ye can banish me from yere room, and spout that ye won't be seeing me. But ye can't keep me from
seeing you
. The real you.”

*   *   *

He wasn't looking at her robe this time. Ross was gazing into her eyes, and it was unnerving. Sadie had never felt more flustered, more vulnerable, and more exposed.

And yet more safe.

Without responding, she slipped away. What could she have said anyway? He was the most confusing and irritating man. As she dressed, her irrational thinking returned with a vengeance. She'd been able to talk to him like she had because she was still angry about how abysmally last night had turned out. But now, alone in her room, with nothing but her crazy thoughts, she had to ask herself: Why did Ross want to stay here with her?

On its heels came another thought: What would Oliver do when he found out that she and Ross were cohabitating? He'd probably make her get a doctor's note from Gabriel. But Sadie felt pretty certain Ross had cooked up this plan all on his own. But the question still remained . . .
Why?

Her heart turned sappy.
Hopeful
. But she pulled out her mallet of reason and squashed those little flutters of promise.

When she came out, Ross was gone. For a moment,
she wondered if she'd made up the whole encounter. But as she walked to the foyer, she tripped over his duffel bag. It was almost as if he'd left it there to remind her that he was coming back.

The second she entered Quilting Central, Deydie rushed toward her. “How are ye this morning, lass?”