Mad About Plaid (6 page)

Standing together, the resemblance between the two men became clear. While their coloring was different, they had the same large frames, and similar facial features.

"Brothers," Ian said.

"Devin." Devin held out his hand.

Lucy took it. "Lucy. Nice to meet you."

"If you see another one of us wondering around," Ian added in a dry tone, "just ignore him."

"That'd be James," Devin clarified. "The youngest."

Ian and Devin were about the same height, both built, and both had that aura of capability and strength. The universe was not playing fair today, making her face two gorgeous men, one of whom was staring at the paw marks over her breasts—Ian's attention stayed there way longer than necessary. When his gaze finally lifted to hers, it was completely unapologetic, and filled with an unreadable expression that gave Lucy pause. Something was different about him...

Devin cleared his throat. "See you around, Lucy. Sorry about your shirt." He gave Ian a quizzical look before leaving with the Shepherd.

Great. Now she was left with big, bad-attitude Ian. "This your dog?" she asked.

After a beat, Ian stroked the dog's head. He had nice hands. Strong hands. And Lucy wanted to roll her eyes for noticing.

"Dimon is sort of everyone's dog."

"Right." She was antsy to cut and run and avoid any more embarrassment. "Well, I'm off to sight see and take some pictures, so… Bye."

She got three steps beyond him when he said in a challenging tone, "That afraid of me, Mrs. Brooks?"

Lucy froze. Surely she was mistaken.
No, don't turn around. Don't take the bait
. But she was already turning. "Excuse me?"

One of his black eyebrows arched. "Afraid. Scared." He cocked his head. "Otherwise known as . . . chicken shit."

A gasp caught in her throat.

One corner of his mouth quirked, but his eyes were intent on her, calculating, waiting. She couldn't believe he had the nerve to call her out. Why couldn't he be one of those people who simply let things drop? But no. He was calling her on the kiss last night, calling her scared. Wonderful.

"Chicken shit. Really?" she said flatly.

He shrugged. "If the feathers fit. You're embarrassed about last night. You kissed me. It happens." As though spontaneous kisses from strangers happened all the time. As though he was God's gift to women everywhere.
He probably is
. "Now you want to avoid me. Way I see it, you can grow the pair you had last night or run scared."

Heat crept into her cheeks. Would she go to jail for hitting him? Might be worth a night in prison just to shut him up… "You don't talk like a Scot all the time."

"I'm half Scot. Raised in North Carolina. Went to college there and then in Edinburgh. Joined the U.S. military when I was twenty three. Stayed eight years. Got out six months ago. Grandfather died three weeks later and I inherited this place with my brothers. Now, back to you. We can hop in my vehicle and I can show you the estate for the glowing article you're going to write or you can turn tail and run. Which is it?"

She glared at him. "I never should have kissed you."

"And I never should have liked it so much."

With that stunner, he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and sauntered off.

Then, he glanced over his shoulder with an appraising look. "My ride's this way."

Lucy didn't move, she was still trying to pick her jaw up off the grass. This wasn't the rigid, slightly annoyed guy she'd met yesterday. Oh, he was definitely different. The edge was still there in droves, but now it was almost like he'd declared war on her, which was ridiculous.

He was staring at her, waiting. After everything he'd said, she couldn't run away now and prove him right. She wasn't a chicken. Lucy plastered an fake smile on her face. "A tour sounds wonderful."

Chapter 6

He was losing his goddamn mind. Lucy kept derailing him. He hadn't planned on confronting her. Or offering a tour. But he'd taken one look at Dev, staring at the muddy paw prints over Lucy's spectacular breasts and his common sense went right out the window. The ponytail was killing him and all he could think about was wrapping his hand around it while kissing the daylights out of her.

Angry kissing.

Because he was furious at her. For lying. For kissing him and starting the inappropriate images and thoughts to begin with.

He should be calling her out, making demands, calling The Ambler… He should be plotting revenge, not riling her up—and taking pleasure in the flush in her cheeks and the spark in her wide eyes.

He'd known she wouldn't back down, wouldn't run away. She'd wanted to, but she hadn't.

Ian opened the passenger side door. He could feel her anger and indignation. He smiled. Yeah. He really shouldn't be enjoying this. As she swept past him and into the car, she leveled a hot glare his way. He smiled even wider.
Let the games begin
.

A half hour later, Ian was certain Lucy brought out the worst in him.

He'd taken the roughest, muddiest, most challenging track his Rover could navigate. Rain made the going even more of a challenge. He was having a blast, splashing through the flooded stream and climbing the steep, curvy hill toward the top where the track ended and the loch spread out below. Lucy didn't appear amused. Every time he looked over and saw her white knuckles and clenched jaw, he reminded himself of her treachery, how she was playing with his family's future, the future of Fran and Hamish, and everyone who had worked so hard to get the estate ready for her arrival.

As Ian steered around a cutback turn and crested the hill, Lucy demanded he pull over.

Hell if he was pulling over. He went to tell her so, but her ashen face and glassy eyes made him stop the vehicle.

Immediately, she bolted from the car, walked several feet away, then stopped and drew in several gulping breaths. Guilt seeped into his gut. What was he doing? He wasn't like this. He wasn't cruel.

Ian left the Rover and headed to where Lucy stood with her hands on her hips, her face tipped up to the rain.

She sensed his presence and turned. "I get it, okay? You know. You figured me out. That explains earlier and this—" she made a wild gesture toward the Rover and the muddy track— "lovely tour." She laughed and faced the view once more. "I'm such an idiot."

Unsure of what to say, Ian shoved his hands into his pockets. He'd had a ton to say when he overheard her talking to the real Riley Brooks, but now, seeing her so distraught, angry with herself, and most likely car sick, he had nothing.

When she turned around again, tears slipped down her cheeks.

Shit.

"You know how when you try to do something nice for someone and it ends up blowing up in your face?" He nodded. "Well, this is that moment. Riley is my cousin. I meant to say, from the very beginning, that I'd come in her place because she couldn't, but… I didn't. And I'm not sure why. My cousin cares about her job. She'd never send a replacement unless it was important. And she was in a bind. Look, Riley is still going to write the article. I'm going to note everything for her. Every detail. It'll be fantastic. You'll get what you're after, I promise. And I'm sorry. I know you're trying to start a business, and this—I'm—not what you wanted." She gave a pathetic shrug, hurt swimming in her eyes, a hurt Ian sensed was far deeper than what was happening here. "And just so you know," she added. "I don't normally go around doing this kind of thing. This is my first time out of the country. Riley needed my help, and I just…"

"What?"

Lucy lifted her round, vulnerable gaze, and Ian felt a tightening in his chest. "I just needed to get away, to find some . . . peace."

She could have said anything else. A vacation. R&R. To see the country. But she hadn't. She'd said the one thing he understood to the very marrow of his bones.

"Say something," she finally said.

She was biting on her wet bottom lip and it drew him in faster than a bullet and he found himself asking, "Are you even married?"

"What?" She blinked. "No. Of course not."

"The rain's getting worse," he finally managed, caught between relief and fear. "I think we'd better head back."

Neither one of them moved despite the rain. God, he was a first class sucker. He couldn't believe he was about to forgive her and start over. Even as he grumbled to himself over it, he also knew nothing short of a disaster could have stopped him from stepping forward and offering his hand. "Ian MacLaren."

Relief filled her eyes, her shoulders sagged, and she smiled through her tears as she took his hand. "Lucy Walker. Nice to meet you."

"Come on, Lucy Walker," he said with a heavy sigh. "Let's get back to the Rover."

Lucy stared through the wet windshield at the stream, grateful they made it back down the hill without slipping right into the rushing water. She had Ian to thank for that. He'd handled the slips and slides like a pro, never losing his cool. On their initial crossing earlier, Lucy had noted how swollen the stream was from the rain the night before.

But now it was raging.

As they idled, rain beat harder against the vehicle. Ian stared straight ahead, contemplating. She got the feeling he wanted to cross, but hesitated on her behalf. Finally he pulled his focus away from the stream. "Looks like we might be stuck here a while."

"We can't go another way?"

"It's too slick to go back up the hill. The track ends at the top anyway. There's only one way back and this is it. And it's too dangerous to go off the path now."

Ian pulled out his cell phone and dialed Hamish to tell him where they were and that they'd wait it out a little while. After he hung up, he turned on the heater. Thank God because her shirt was wet and her bare legs were freezing. She probably should have dressed warmer than she had. Scottish weather was certainly unpredictable. As Ian twisted to look in the back seat, his shoulder brushed hers. "Ian. There's not enough gas."

"Hmm?" He paused in his hunt for whatever was in the back seat and looked at her. Their faces were inches apart. The methodical swish of the wipers and the rain pounding outside created an intimate quality that made Lucy hesitate.

"Lucy?"

"There's not enough gas. You're on Empty."

He stared at the gauge with a perplexed frown, and then he darted from the vehicle to open the back hatch. When he returned he was soaked. "There's usually a full can in the back. I lent it to Ross yesterday..."

Lucy pegged him as a man always prepared. She bet he usually checked his Rover before any drive. The fact that he was without extra fuel seemed to surprise him.

"How long before we can cross?"

"Depends on when the rain lets up." Ian turned off the engine, reached in the back, and handed her a rain poncho. "There's a cottage just down the path. No electric, but there's wood for a fire at least. I think we should wait there and save the fuel. Sound good?"

"Sure."

Mud splattered her bare legs when she jumped from the vehicle. The path into the woods paralleled the stream and wound through groves of tall trees and pines. The wet amplified the scents of earth, wood, and pine. Ian's long stride ate up ground, and by the time they made it to the stone cottage, Lucy was out of breath. But in a good way, an invigorating way. Despite the rain and increasing cold, she thought the setting was beautiful and wild.

The cottage was adorable, made entirely of stone with two small windows and a narrow wooden door. It sat back from the water's edge nestled in the pines.

Ian shouldered open the door.

Inside was slightly musty, but not too bad. There was a kitchen and living room to the right and a hallway, probably to a bedroom and bath, to the left. Ian removed his muddy boots followed by the poncho, draping it over an old wooden chair in the kitchen before heading to the fireplace. Lucy followed suit. There was no furniture in the living room, so she pulled two wooden chairs from the kitchen into the room, and then went down the hall hoping to find something a bit more comfortable to wait out the rain.

The bedroom was empty, but there was a twin mattress propped against a wall. Much better than the chairs. Lucy pulled it down the hall, let it drop to the floor, and then shoved it against the wall. Ian watched her over his shoulder as she spread the blanket he'd grabbed from the back of the Rover.

From her seat on the mattress, Lucy couldn't help but notice how Ian seemed to fill up the room. The guy wore the tan cargo pants and black T-shirt really well. Inside, she gave a regretful sigh. She'd lied to him, cried in front of him, and made the world's worst first, second, and third impressions.

Oddly enough, he seemed to be handling it way better than she expected. Most guys she knew would have freaked out, resorted to name calling, gotten Riley fired, and had Lucy back on a plane before she could even say sorry.

After the fire caught, Ian joined her on the mattress and leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes, and let out a weary breath.

Lucy watched his throat work as he swallowed, then turned her attention to the dark scruff on his face, the full mouth, the straight nose… What intrigued her most, however, was that he seemed so comfortable in his own skin, in who he was, and in the things he did. He seemed to know exactly what he wanted out of life, something she respected. Something she wished for herself.