Roses in Moonlight (23 page)

He laughed a little. “We’re not a very imaginative bunch, but we like to go fast and not bottom out, respectively. I think we’ll take the sports car today, though.”

She looked at him seriously. “In case we need to make a quick getaway?”

“It never hurts to be prepared.”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m surprised by how unnerved I am.”

“Not to worry,” he said. “Ewan will follow us at a discreet distance and you don’t want to know what he keeps within easy reach.”

“I don’t think I do.” She shook her head. “You live an interesting life.”

“And you have a small fortune in gems back inside.”

“They’re hardly mine. Do you think I shouldn’t have left everything there?”

“The lads wouldn’t think to paw through your purse, though I think we can guarantee that by the time we’re back, Oliver will have made a list of stones, weighed and identified by carat and color, and be well on his way to suggesting potential buyers for them.”

“But,” she said, aghast, “they’re stolen.”

“One set is.”

“The other set has to be, too.”

He smiled. “Probably. But it’ll keep him busy and out of my email that Peter’s hacked into.” He paused, then handed her the keys. “All yours.”

She looked so horribly torn, he almost laughed. She clutched his keys as if she didn’t intend to give them back.

“I have to go get my bag. It has my license in it.”

“I think I’ll let you get that,” he said wryly. “If I start fetching your purse, I’ll never be allowed to forget it.”

She went back inside.

She was still carrying his keys.

He leaned against Cameron’s Range Rover and considered the state of his life. He was trying not to think about it too hard or attach too much significance to it, but the truth was, he was getting ready to take a woman he hardly knew to his most private sanctuary. He had, as it happened, never taken a woman there. Sunny had been there, of course, along with Madame Gies and Emily, but they were family. But a woman he wasn’t related to in some form or fashion?

Never.

He supposed if he’d had any sense, he would have let Samantha loose with his keys and simply gone inside and banged his head against the wall. He didn’t dare hope for the return of good sense. He was simply hoping he might dislodge something useful.

She came back out in the garage, looked for him, then smiled when she saw him.

He was in trouble.

Had he ever thought her plain? He was certain he hadn’t, not really. Perhaps she would never be as stunning as those society shrews he occasionally dated, but the truth was, he couldn’t stand that brittle fakeness.

Samantha stopped short and looked at him in surprise. “What?”

He shook his head and smiled faintly. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About Richard Drummond?”

He shook his head. “Not at all.”

“Worried I’ll wreck your car?”

“Only if you don’t have a license and have never driven before.”

“I got to drive my mother’s minivan when I behaved really well.”

He laughed, because he didn’t doubt it was true. He nodded for her to open the door, then he let her into the driver’s side. She sat down, took a deep breath, then looked up at him and smiled.

It was all he could do not to lean over and kiss her.

He stepped back. “I’ll get the garage.”

“Thanks. I’ll try not to run over you on the way out.”

He could only hope. He was somewhat reassured to have her make it outside without clipping anything. He closed the garage door, then got in and looked at her. “Ready?”

“I’ve never driven on the left.”

“Best figure it out quickly, then.”

“I can’t believe you’re letting me drive your car.” She looked at him. “Do you realize how much this thing costs?”

“Possibly.”

She didn’t move. “My dad has a Ferrari.”

“How many times did you steal it at night and then try to reverse the odometer by putting it up on blocks after you got home?”

She smiled. “That’s a movie. And fourteen, if you’re curious. The stealing, not the rolling back. I blamed it all on my mother. She’s a wild woman at heart.”

He reached out and tucked a loose strand of her hair into her braid before he thought better of it. “There are depths of deviousness to you I never suspected.”

“You thought I was a lace thief.”

“I can be an idiot from time to time.”

“Does that include letting me drive?”

“Your father has a Ferrari.”

She started to nod, then froze. She looked at him narrowly. “Did you know that already?”

He smiled. “Might have.”

“And did you suspect I’d driven it?”

“I didn’t know,” he said, “but the thought did cross my mind.”

“Why?”

“Because you look so much happier in jeans and cashmere than in polyester.”

“My mother bought all my clothes.”

“Now,
that
is something I felt safe in assuming,” he said with another smile. “I have the feeling you may be avoiding that in the future.”

“I might be.” She chewed on her words for a moment or two. “I think I’m close to having an epiphany.”

He smiled. “Will swearing be involved?”

“Maybe.”

“Did you email your parents yet?”

She held on to the wheel with both hands, then looked at him. “I have to have my epiphany first, I think.”

“A trip in the car might help.”

Her expression was very serious. “Thank you, Derrick.”

“You’re welcome, Samantha.”

“For more than this.”

He nodded down the hill before he said or did anything he might regret, such as tell her she was undeniably lovely in her unguarded way. He didn’t want to think about how he might be tempted to show her just how appealing she was.

“Let’s go, lass. Do you like the shore?”

“Yes.”

His phone beeped at him. He pulled up the text message.

Hey, why don’t I get to drive that?

“Trouble?” Samantha asked.

“Ewan, whingeing.”

“And all is right with the world, is that it?”

He smiled approvingly. He liked her more all the time. He leaned his head back against the seat and considered closing his eyes. But then he would have missed the opportunity to look at a woman who had turned out to be not at all what he’d thought her to be at first.

“Would you have let me drive if you hadn’t known about my illicit nocturnal activities?”

“Aye.”

“Thank you.”

“To the end of the drive,” he clarified.

She smiled and didn’t spray Ewan’s car with gravel when she pulled away from the castle, which Derrick was certain he greatly appreciated.

He supposed he would have to return to reality soon enough, but for the moment, he was content to ride with a woman who was laughing as she drove away from his boyhood home.

Life was good.

S
amantha
was very grateful she wasn’t learning how to drive in Derrick Cameron’s very expensive sports car.

She was also grateful her father had been willing to believe that his wife had been running off with his Ferrari late at night after he’d put on his nightcap and was safely tucked up in bed. The first time she’d done it, she’d been sure she would be caught, then grounded for the rest of her life. Then again, since most of her life had felt like a grounding anyway, the risk had been worth it.

She hadn’t gotten caught, to her knowledge. Perhaps her father had known and figured there was nothing worse he could do to her than was already being done by the circumstances she had found herself in.

“Thinking?”

She glanced briefly at Derrick. It was still a little odd to be sitting on the wrong side of the car, but that had taken less time to get used to than driving on the wrong side of the road. Fortunately, they hadn’t had to go back through the village to get to the road that led toward the shore. There was something to be said about driving an obscenely expensive car on an open road.

“No,” she managed. “I’m fine.”

“I’ll trade you, if you like.”

“Are you kidding?” she asked. “Not a chance. I have the keys.”

“I think your epiphany is rapidly approaching.”

She looked at him quickly.

“Eyes on the road.”

She did as he suggested and managed to avoid drifting into a pasture. “I can pull over, if you’re getting nervous.”

“I want you to tell me to go to hell.”

She laughed a little, uneasily. “I’ve done that before.”

“Aye, but not with much conviction. I want you to try it again.”

She blinked, then she smiled. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to get pushed around anymore.”

“I don’t get pushed around.”

“Then pull over right now and let me drive.”

She had to take a deep breath. “No.”

“And?”

She refused to look at him. “You’re letting me drive your Vanquish. I’m not going to tell you to go to hell. Maybe later, if you hack into my email.”

“All right,” he said, sounding as if he were smiling. “Just keep going. The road winds around to the right. I’ll tell you where to turn once we hit the village.”

“I hope you’re using
hit
in a metaphorical sense.”

He laughed a little. “Aye, I was. Carry on, lass.”

She had to admit she liked it when he called her that. Very Scottish. Very charming.

Very dangerous.

She was actually quite grateful when he stopped talking and she could concentrate on the road. It was one thing to be out in the open with nothing to look out for but the occasional cluster of sheep, it was another thing entirely to head through a village—and a village with very tight walls, at that.

She only had to back up once to let a lorry go past her, and she managed not to scrape Derrick’s car on any of the stone. She couldn’t deny, though, that she breathed a sigh of relief when he told her to turn to her left. The road narrowed, if possible, through another handful of houses, then seemed to leave the village behind. There were a couple more houses that sat on very large pieces of land. And then houses disappeared, but the road didn’t disappear along with them. She was actually a little surprised at how well maintained it was. The weather on the coast had to have been a constant strain on it, but it was smooth and pothole-free.

And then she realized that the road was ending.

And at the end of that road was a cottage.

It was something out of a period movie, two-story, whitewashed, weathered, sitting on a bluff that overlooked a cove. The sand was fine by the water, then the beach became progressively rockier the farther up the bluff it went.

She slowed to a stop, then turned the car off. It was beyond her to do anything but put her hands on the wheel and gape.

“What do you think?”

“I think,” she managed, “that I’ve gone back in time hundreds of years.” She stared a bit longer, then realized what should have probably bothered her from the start. “We must be trespassing. Should we go?”

He shook his head. “We’re fine.”

“Who owns this?”

He looked out at the sea for a moment or two, then at her. “I do.”

She sat back and sighed. “I shouldn’t hate you for this, but I’m almost beside myself with envy.”

He smiled. “Let’s go look inside. You might feel differently then.”

“I don’t know how that’s possible,” she said, reaching for the door.

“Wait.”

She stopped. “Why?”

“Because I’ll get the door.”

Well, if he was going to put it that way, she supposed she would let him have his way. She handed him his keys, then watched him get out of the car and walk around behind it. She wished, with a wishing that left her slightly more unhappy than it should have, that she had met him in a different spot, or under different circumstances, or in a different location—

No, not a different location. She had known the moment she looked out the window as the plane had approached Heathrow that she was going to love England. Her journeys through the countryside had left her with a longing to wander over hill and dale. But being in Scotland had taken that longing to an entirely new level. She wasn’t sure she’d caught her breath since the moment she’d first seen Cameron Hall. She had exaggerated her antipathy for Derrick’s owning of the cottage in front of her, but she hadn’t exaggerated the envy. How fortunate he was to have such a place to come to.

Obviously he would want the right sort of girl to share that with. He probably had some lovely, native Scottish girl in mind.

She couldn’t help but wish that was different as well.

The door opened and a hand appeared. She took it, then realized she was still buckled. Derrick leaned in, unbuckled her seat belt, then helped her out of the car.

And into his arms.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, pulling away.

“Hmmm,” was all he said. He shut the door, pocketed his keys, then offered her his arm. “I’ll give you the tour, if you want.”

“I want.” What she wanted was a bonk on the head to get rid of her ridiculously and completely unreasonable thoughts, but maybe she could trip on a rock or something and take care of that.

She put her hand under his elbow, then felt him draw her hand into a comfortable place and tuck his arm against his side. He walked with her down a well-maintained path and stopped in front of the front door. He unlocked it, pushed it open, then flicked on the lights. He glanced around for a minute or two, then stepped back and waved her on.

“After you.”

She fully expected to see the place done in vintage English Country House, complete with overstuffed chairs upholstered in tartans, threadbare carpets on the floors, and a farmhouse table.

But the house was empty.

She looked at Derrick in surprise. “No furniture?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m always interested in a long story.”

He stepped in behind her and shut the door. “Let’s take the tour, then I’ll tell you. If you’re still interested.”

She nodded, then spent a happy half hour following him from room to room. At least the switch-plate covers had been left behind. Everything else, including the toilets and sinks, had been stripped. She stood finally in the kitchen and looked at a place on the wall where something had been in times past.

“Your stove is gone.”

“It is.”

“Along with everything else.”

“Aye.”

She turned and looked at him. “All right, I’m biting. What happened?”

He leaned back against the wall. “We may wish we had chairs sooner rather than later. The tale is tedious.”

“Long and tedious; just my kind of story. And you’re stalling.”

He smiled briefly, then shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I was out driving one day and I ended up in the village.”

“In the Vanquish?”

He shook his head. “Range Rover.”

“Yours is the beat-up one on the end of the garage, I take it?” she asked.

“Less conspicuous,” he agreed, then seemed to find forming words a bit more trouble than he was willing to take.

She waited for a moment or two, then decided to rescue him. “You were out driving one day, you wound up in this village, and . . . ?”

He shrugged. “I was having a pint with the lads at the pub and heard that there was a house on the edge of the sea that was rumored to be rather old and rather lovely. Being the compulsive looker at old things that I am, I decided I would have a wee look at it.”

“What happened then?”

“I waited for it to fall available and—” He shrugged again. “You know. Things happened.”

She leaned against the wall next to him. “What sorts of things?”

He sighed and looked at her. “Do you really want the entire tale?”

“Am I really going to want a chair?”

He smiled. “We’ll go sit on a rock. There are a couple out in front that won’t leave us limping for the rest of the day.”

And then he took her hand, as easily as if he’d been doing it forever and had stopped thinking about it. She tried not to read anything into it. After all, he was who he was and she was who she was and she had a fascinating . . . well, she had a something waiting for her somewhere where he wasn’t going to be. She was sure of it.

She followed him through the front garden, then down the path a bit until he stopped by two rocks that were indeed rather flat and didn’t look terribly uncomfortable. She sat down on one, waited for him to sit on the other, then turned and looked at him. “All right, spill it.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t want to give the impression that I took advantage of anyone having financial difficulties—”

“Oh, a Scrooge,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “Tell me more.”

He sighed. “Very well, then. I heard—”

“Down at the pub?”

“Aye, on about the third round which I wasn’t drinking, that this reputedly lovely old house was owned by a widow. Given that I make a living convincing people who don’t want to sell things that it was actually their idea to beg me to take their treasures off their hands, I thought I would ply my dastardly trade on this poor unsuspecting woman.”

She watched him closely, because she couldn’t quite believe that he would use those skills in such a nefarious way. Priceless treasures were one thing. An old woman’s house was quite another.

“And?” she prodded, when he looked as though he might clam up again.

“She sold,” he said simply.

“And?”

He shifted again. “And I allowed her to live here for the rest of her life.”

“Allowed?” she asked. “Or insisted?”

“Bloody hell, woman, are you going to tell the story for me?”

She looked at him, then smiled. “How long did she live?”

“Another five years.”

“How much rent did you charge her?”

He pursed his lips, but said nothing.

“None, of course,” she supplied for him. “Did you pay her utilities?”

He scowled at her.

“Opened an account for her at the local Tesco?”

“There is no local Tesco.”

“You’re avoiding the subject.”

“I suddenly don’t think I want to discuss this subject anymore.”

She laughed a little, because there was something about the thought of his having done nice things for someone he didn’t know just out of the goodness of his heart that made her think well of him. “I imagine you don’t, but that’s okay because I think I can guess all the answers already. Did you go to the funeral?”

“Yes.”

“Find anything left in the house after it was all over or did the kids clean you out?”

He dragged his hand through his hair. “You, Miss Drummond, are a cynic.”

“Gavin’s my brother.”

“He’s an estate vulture.”

“He learned it at his mother’s knee, though he’d never admit it. He vowed when he left home that he would never again in his life put on another pair of curator’s gloves. Now look at him.”

“I try not to.” He shot her a look. “Sorry.”

“I have no illusions.”

He nodded, then turned his head to look out over the sea. She looked at him for a moment or two, then looked out over the ocean as well. So he had rescued an old granny living on the edge of the sea. She didn’t imagine the woman’s expenses had been much, but that really wasn’t the point.

“That was kind of you,” she said, finally.

“I wanted her house.”

She closed her eyes against the breeze. “How much did you pay the kids off after the fact?”

His brief laugh was pained. “I hate to think of what
you
learned at your mother’s knee. And it was just enough to placate them. My lawyer did the rest. Those fancy London solicitors can be fairly intimidating.”

“Did you visit her?”

“Occasionally.”

She imagined he had and more than occasionally. And she imagined that he had paid off her relatives a fairly substantial sum, just for the good karma. He was, she was coming to find, just that sort of man.

“It’s cold,” she said finally.

“It’s Scotland.”

“It’s summer.”

He smiled, but he didn’t look at her. “So it is.” He moved over on his rock, then held open his arm. “It’s warmer over here.”

“I think it’s warmer over here.”

He looked at her in faint surprise, then smiled just as faintly. “Are you telling me to go to hell?”

“Now that you’ve commandeered the keys, sure.”

He shooed her over a bit, then joined her on her rock. He put his arm around her shoulders. “I grossly misjudged you, Samantha. I apologize.”

“How were you to know?”

“Because I always know,” he said seriously. “But in this case, I was lazy and didn’t bother to check anything about you. I would have proceeded differently otherwise.”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t particularly nice to you, either.”

“You slandered my German ruthlessly.”

“Your German sucks, buddy.”

He laughed and squeezed her shoulders. “I’m afraid it does. I’ll choose French next time I’m trying out a pickup line on you in a moldy old castle.” He looked at her. “What do you think of this?”