To Scotland With Love (20 page)

He moved to her neck and kissed it hungrily. “Caitie,” he rasped, “I want you.”

“I know,” she said in consent. She wanted him, too. But most of all, she wanted to help him.

As he gazed into her face, he slipped his arms under
her legs and carried her to the oversized sofa. Anguish still haunted him, but as he searched her eyes, she saw something more intimate burning there, a longing she recognized. She didn't know if he meant to tell her he cared for her deeply. Or that he desired her greatly. Or maybe it was just gratitude. She didn't care which it was. As long as she could erase his torment and make him whole again with her body.

He kissed her, and the moments stretched out. Maybe time stood still. She didn't know. The only thing for certain was that she lost herself in him. As she did, her objective shifted. No longer was this only about Graham; this was about her, too. Together, they both became more in the most primal way, in sensation and in touch. She arched toward him as his hands found her breasts through her clothes and his fingertips woke her neglected nipples. She moaned.

“Don't,” Graham growled. “You're driving me crazy.”

“I can't help it,” she whimpered. She wanted more.

He pulled back. She started to complain, but then he laid his forehead on hers.

“Are you sure about this?” he said huskily, breathing hard.

The appropriate answer would've been
hell yeah.
But action spoke louder than words. She gently shoved his chest, pushing him away so she could stand. With a slow smile, she unzipped her dress and let it slide to the floor.

He liked her answer. His eyes turned smoky, heat transferring from his gaze to her bra. She undid the clasp and let it fall to the floor, too. He gave a suppressed groan as he took her in his arms once again. Mr. Darcy was no gentleman, and she'd have a fling with him, screw her past reservations.

As he kissed her, she did her best to get his clothes off his body. She needed his skin—now. He laid her down and pulled off her shoes and tights, leaving her with nothing but her red-checked panties. There was no doubt now that they were both teeming with life, not just existing, but impatient for each other.

She watched with eagerness as he stepped out of his jeans and could hardly wait for Graham to come to her so they could be together. Almost from the first, she'd wanted this but had ignored the chemistry between them. Or at least tried to. Right now, she would own the truth—she was going to make love to him and it would be the gift she gave herself. Later, she might pretend that she'd done it for him, to make him forget or to help him to feel better. But that wasn't true; she was doing this for herself.

He pushed down his boxers, glorious in his nakedness. He peered at her red-checked undies with keen interest. “We definitely don't need these.” He pulled them off and tossed them. They landed on the chair by his coat.

She started to giggle. It could've been nerves. But then he scooted in beside her and wrapped his arms around her once again. The sensation was heady. His closeness made her feel warm, consoled, and reassured. He positioned himself over her, using his arms as supports, and gazed into her eyes. She felt the shift; the game had changed again.

He seemed to be searching her, looking into her soul, trying to puzzle her out. Then, as if he'd made his decision, he threaded his fingers into her hair and kissed her more deeply than before. This kiss wasn't about foreplay, sex, or proving he was alive. This kiss was about claiming her.

The shock of it sent her reeling, and oh God, it turned
her on. Knowing she belonged to him, even if only for right now, sent her heart soaring. As she kissed him back, she gave everything to him— heart, soul, body—not withholding even a piece for herself. She was peeled back, exposed, knowing she was safe to do so.

He seemed to know that she'd given it all to him in spirit. He rewarded her by entering her in one smooth motion. She gasped with the pure pleasure of feeling him inside of her. As he kissed her, he began to move. She could feel his restraint and was glad he gave her the time to savor their joining.

“Caitie, my love,” he said. Then, in Gaelic, he murmured sweet nothings as he made love to her, thrusting gently, pulling her to the surface and then backing off. It was both delicious and cruel to make her wait for a release. And at the same time, she could stay like this forever—in his arms, feeling him above her, feeling him in her. From nowhere, she fell apart, a near sob coming from her lips. He kissed her as the world became perfect. Then he slid into her one more time, deep, ever so deep, and he shuddered as well with sweet undoing.

As their breathing became normal again, she felt utterly content. At complete peace with the world, with what they'd done, and how she felt about him. He rolled over and pulled her on top of him, dragging the lap quilt over their bare bodies.

She didn't regret it, feeling so happy it had finally happened. But then she saw remorse in his eyes.

“I'm so sorry.” His brow collapsed together into a serious line. “I never should've done that.”

C
aitie rolled off and threw the quilt at his crotch. “Bastard.”

Graham saw the hurt in her eyes, and it killed him. Shit, he'd never meant to upset her. But his emotions were in an uproar.
“I mean, I didn't intend for this to happen.”

Now she looked even more pissed off. With exaggerated movements, she grabbed her bra, wrapping it around herself and mumbling loudly, “Fricking stupid. That's what I am.”

He wanted to go to her and wrap his arms around her, but in truth, she scared the shit out of him. He couldn't tell her that he'd never experienced anything like that before. How he'd felt connected to her, like they belonged together. A frightening, forever kind of feeling. Besides, making declarations wouldn't be fair. He was in no position to offer her anything right now with his life spinning out of control—Duncan's leukemia, his demanding career. Everything. “It was a mistake. It's my fault.”

She glared at him as she snatched up her dress. “You could've just said thank you for the pity screw.” She paused. “Idiot.” Her tone was harsh, but it wasn't clear whether she was speaking to him or to herself.

In a different time, hell, in a different life, he would've taken her to his bedroom and kept her there, possibly forever. But right here, right now, that would be a selfish thing to do. Almost as selfish as making love to her a few moments ago to take his mind off his miserable life. God, he hated himself.

“I don't want to hurt you,” he tried.

She picked up a throw pillow and hurled it at his head. “Hurt me?” With one hand, she seized her red-checked panties and shook them at him. “You didn't hurt me. I'm fine. Never better.”

She pulled them on and then cursed violently. “You didn't even use a fricking condom.”

“Oh, Christ.” He couldn't get her pregnant. Not on top of everything else.

“Relax, Graham.” She sounded anything but relaxed. “My period ended yesterday. There's no way you knocked me up. Hell, I could probably sell these undies on eBay for your stupid DNA.”

He stood up and started yanking on his pants. “Caitie, wait a second. I can't let you leave like this. Let me just explain—”

“Forget it, Graham. You've made yourself perfectly clear.” She grabbed her parka and hurried from the room.

He let his head drop, and there on the hardwood floor, lay her tangled tights. He picked them up and went to catch her at the back door.

She about plowed into him as she came out of the room off the kitchen. She swiped at a tear.

“You forgot these.” He held up the tights.

She snatched them from him as though she wouldn't deign to leave anything of herself behind. Then she fumbled with the door handle and slammed out of the house.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Cait stood for a minute outside the mansion, not knowing what to do. She couldn't go back to the cottage; she was a mess, her emotions all over the place. She was furious with herself for sleeping with Graham when she knew full well he didn't want to be in a relationship with her. Of course, she didn't want a relationship, either, so why was she so upset? On the other hand, how
dare
he call it—call
her
!—a mistake? She was tired of him yanking her around. He couldn't come on to her anytime he pleased. He had no right. And she was going to tell him, give him a piece of her mind right now!

She opened the door and went back inside. She made it to the parlor's doorway before spying him on the floor with Dingus in his lap. He was talking to the dog, and she stopped to eavesdrop.

“It's like this,” Graham told the pup. “I did a lot of praying while I was waiting at the hospital. I made a deal with God. Told him if he'd fix Duncan, I'd be a better da. No more arguments. No more trying to bend him to my will. I'd be more of a blessing instead of a hindrance.”

The dog licked his hand, then looked up at him.

“I'd willingly take Duncan's place. Mattie needs him, and God knows how much anger builds up in little boys when they don't get the attention of their father.” Graham ran a hand through his hair. “You understand what I'm saying, don't you?”

The puppy nuzzled his arm.

“Of course you do.” Graham scratched him behind his ears. “What I'm afraid of, little fellow, is that God doesn't bargain with mere mortals.” He stretched out in front of the fire, and the dog cuddled into his chest.

Cait felt limp, her anger now only a memory, drained
away into nothingness. And in its place was pain. She ached for Graham and what he was going through. Quietly, she backed up and went down the bluff to Deydie's. When she got there, she pulled out the trundle and fell into it. If she were lucky, she'd sleep through the New Year.

But for a long time she lay awake, her brain unable to switch off. Over and over, she replayed making love to Graham, still able to feel his kisses and caresses on her frustrated body. She tried working up a little regret for what had happened, but it wouldn't come.

* * *

The next morning, when Cait woke, Deydie was sitting at the dining room table with a pad and paper in front of her.

Cait rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What are you up to?”

“It's for Duncan and Mattie. A schedule for everyone to follow. Ye better get yereself up and dressed. You're off to put Duncan's house in order.”

Cait rolled out of bed and went to the list. The whole village, not just the quilting ladies, were scheduled for cleaning, cooking, and shopping. Plus Duncan's boat duties were divvied up among the fishermen.

“Have you ever thought about a career in logistics?” asked Cait.

“Stop yere yabbering and get going. I'll need you to post this at the store on yere way to Duncan's,” Deydie said. “Graham's off to Italy this afternoon.”

Cait stopped short. “I thought he canceled his engagements.”

“He did try. But if he doesn't make this movie, he'll be sued. The bastards,” Deydie muttered. “He said he won't be gone long.”

“Oh.” Cait plopped down at the table.

Deydie got her coat. “I need to get going now. I have to make sure his things are washed and ready for his trip.”

Irrationally, Cait wanted to be the one helping Graham instead of her grandmother. And how come Deydie knew what he was up to and Cait didn't?

Her rational brain answered that one.
Because it's none of your business. And in his eyes, you don't count. Not a shilling.

Unbidden, her womanly bits squeezed in delicious remembrance of what they'd done last night. She blocked the thought. She'd known at the time it didn't mean anything. She had just better get over what little crush she had on him and stop thinking about his manly parts and how he wielded them.

“Snap out of it,” Deydie barked. “Ye've work to do.”

As nonchalantly as she could, Cait dared to ask, “How long will Graham be gone?”

Deydie glared at her. “I've been crystal clear about Graham from the get-go. You're not to get involved with him.”

“I'm only asking for Duncan and Mattie's sake.”

“And I'm a bluidy movie star.” Deydie bent her head and added one more thing to the list. “Graham should be done in four weeks. At the latest, he'll be back for the Valentine's Day Céilidh. Now, stop asking questions and get cracking.”

“Fine.” Cait pushed herself out of the chair, accepting she wouldn't see Graham again until the village dance and celebration.

“Wait,” Deydie said. “Do you know anything about a load of groceries delivered to Kenneth and Moira? It's enough to feed them for a month or more.”

Cait struck an innocent pose. “Not a clue. What good fortune for them, though.”

Deydie eyed her closely. “Aye, good fortune, indeed.”

Cait did as she was told—dressed, went to Duncan's, and got busy cleaning the house. She hadn't been there long when the phone rang. Duncan was in bed, so she answered it.

The line was silent for a moment. Finally, Graham spoke. “Is that you, Caitie?”

“Aye. And what's it to you?”

Another long silence. “I wanted to talk to Duncan about Mattie. Can you put him on?”

Trying to ignore Graham's smooth-as-butter voice, Cait became as professional as an executive secretary. “I'm sorry. Duncan's not available right now.” Like he was in a meeting or something.

“What do you mean, not available?” Graham demanded.

Cait gave up and sat down in the chair by the phone. “He's resting.”

“What are you doing there, then?”

“Scullery maid,” she explained. “Deydie's orders.”

“Maybe it's good I got you instead of Duncan.” He had the nerve to speak to her like she was his confidante. “I'm worried about leaving him. And dammit, I don't know what to do.” Graham breathed heavily. “I'm going to call Sid to see if the shoot can be postponed.”

“Don't do that,” Cait said, trying to calm him down. “Deydie has it all worked out. A master list. Everyone's going to pitch in.”

Graham gave an exasperated sigh. “What about the nights, though? What if Duncan gets ill with only Mattie there with him?”

“I can stay with them,” she offered.
For Duncan and Mattie's sake.

“There's not enough room at Duncan's house. You know that. If only he'd listen to reason and stay up here on the bluff. There's plenty of room for several people to be here at all times. But when I suggested it, he went a little crazy.”

“I'll talk to him,” Cait said, even though it would once again put her in the middle of the Buchanan feud.

“Would you?” Graham sounded anxious.

“If I can't convince him, I'm sure he'll listen to Deydie and her broom.”

He sighed in relief. “Thank you. You've taken a great weight off my shoulders.”

“Yeah, I'm a regular Atlas,” she said dryly.

He chuckled. “Caitie?”

“Yes.”

“I'm going to miss that sharp tongue of yours.”

“You sure know how to sweet-talk a gal,” she shot back before hanging up the phone.

Damn.
She shook her head in disgust. A few well-placed words from him and he had her wanting him again.

* * *

That afternoon, without too much of a fight, they got Duncan moved up into the big house. It didn't take as much persuading as Cait had thought. He seemed to have reasoned it out for himself.

Deydie had Dougal move Cait's things up to the big house as well.

“One of us has to stay up here,” her gran said. “And it can't be me. That damn mattress in the guest bedroom was stitched together by the devil himself. You go and be my eyes and ears when I'm not there.”

To Cait's surprise, Graham hadn't left yet. As she put her things away, Graham was across the hall packing for his Italy trip. When she finished, she peeked in on him. His inner glow, that special quality that made Graham the man that he was, seemed to have dimmed at the prospect of leaving Gandiegow and his son.

Cait leaned against the doorjamb. “I promise we'll take good care of them both.”

He didn't look up. “I'm counting on it.”

“One of us will call if anything changes,” she added.

He did look up then, pinning her to where she stood. “It'll be you. I know you'll cut through the bullshit and tell me the truth.”

She saluted him. “Always at your service.”

Her quip didn't stop the sizzle he'd sent through her.

He'd made it clear he didn't want a relationship. She didn't want one either. Unfortunately, she was weak. So weak. She wanted him. Just one more time. One more walk in the orchard before he left. Let him pick her peaches until she was bare.

Her face went warm and she turned away.

He came up behind her. “Are you all right, Caitie?”

His breath on her neck made her tingle even more.

“Absolutely,” she said and walked quickly from the room.

Within the hour, Graham was gone. And the house, though crawling with helpful Gandiegowans, felt desolate.

* * *

The next morning, a large helicopter landed on the beach. Three doctors and two nurses disembarked, toting various medical equipment. Duncan called Graham and gave his da an earful. Cait overheard, as did the rest
of village, no doubt. In the end, Duncan acquiesced, letting the medical entourage stick him with needles, prod him with instruments, and bugger the hell out of him with questions. By early evening, the doctors and nurses had left the village the way they'd come.

“Deydie,” Duncan said from Graham's recliner in the media room. “Harpoon the next helicopter that tries to land.”

“What if it's yere da returning?” Deydie asked.

“Then definitely shoot it down.” Duncan laid his head back and closed his eyes.

Mattie climbed up on his lap and laid his head against Duncan's chest.

Cait's cell phone rang. It was Graham.

“Is Duncan resting?” he asked.

“Who is it?” Duncan called out with his eyes still shut.

“Now's not a good time,” Cait whispered into the phone. “The weather's still a little testy.”

“Then go into the other room. I need to talk to you,” Graham said.

Cait strolled out of the room, putting her hand over the phone. “I'll be right back,” she said to Duncan.

“Tell Da I said to sod off,” Duncan called.

“I heard that,” Graham replied.

“Oh, good grief.” She leaned against the wall just outside the room. “Why are you calling me?”

“I don't want to disturb Duncan while he's resting,” he said.

“And it's okay to disturb me with this bickering back and forth? You two are like a couple of old women,” she carped.

“You can expect a lot of calls from me. Now, tell me, how did it go with the doctors?”