Scot of My Dreams (10 page)

Abby drooped visibly. I was wet and cold and had no way to return to the hostel. The two of us sat at the kitchen table and drank cups of hot tea while Bryce and the doctor got Horatio settled in his room.

An hour later, Horatio was resting comfortably. The doctor had examined him and found no major injuries. Other than a few bumps and bruises, Horatio had escaped his walkabout relatively unscathed. Tomorrow he might not even remember his ordeal. Abby had fallen asleep with her head on the table. Bryce’s doctor friend said his goodbyes.

That left just Bryce and me staring at each other across the kitchen with its giant pale-yellow Aga stove, the hiss of the kettle, and colorful crockery in the antique sideboard.

The laird of the house, my handsome Scotsman, looked as bad as I felt. He had a smear of mud on his cheek, and his hair was disheveled. He crossed over to where I stood and stopped in front of me. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.” His blue irises were dark, his expression unreadable.

I bit the inside of my cheek. “I thought you’d be mad at me.”

His eyes widened. “God, no. You forget that I know my baby sister very well. Once she makes up her mind to do something, there’s no stopping her. She told me you were the one who tried to cross the creek. And the one who found Horatio. We owe you an enormous debt, Willow. Thank you for keeping them both safe.”

“It was a bad night.” Understatement of the year. “I’m glad it’s over.” I couldn’t quite meet his gaze. There was so much confusion between us. I hated to ask him to go out again to take me back to the hostel, but I had nothing: no dry clothes, no toothbrush, nothing to sleep in.

He took my chin and lifted my head, so he could stare into my eyes. Then he cursed. “Good lord. Your skin is like ice.” He shrugged out of the dry sweater he had put on when he came inside. “Wear this for now.”

That gesture almost broke me. The wool was warm and smelled like male skin. I was tired and cold and homesick. I didn’t even really know how I found myself smack in the middle of this family’s drama. I was just a tourist, damn it.

I wanted Bryce to hold me and comfort me against his big, sturdy body, but he was acting strangely. Was he going to rescind his invitation to stay at the castle?

He said he wasn’t mad at me, but
something
was going on. This wasn’t the same man who had kissed me earlier that night. I could chalk his attitude up to the stress of the evening, but somehow, I thought it was more than that.

I finally asked my question point-blank. “Are you taking me back to the hostel, or am I sleeping here?”

Bryce glanced at the clock on the wall. “Not much of the night left, lass. Come sit a moment. I need to talk to you.”

We were well chaperoned at the kitchen table. Poor Abby still snoozed, her face buried in her arms. Bryce ignored his sister, his intense gaze trained on me. He pulled his chair close beside mine but not touching. We had some kind of invisible neutral zone between us, though I didn’t know why.

It was all I could do not to follow Abby and fall asleep out of sheer exhaustion. “What do you want, Bryce? If you’ve changed your mind about me staying here, no worries. I was doing fine on my own.” I closed my mind to the thought of moving to another hostel on Monday.

Experts say you learn things about yourself when you travel. So far, I had already learned that I wasn’t a big fan of constant change. Perhaps I wasn’t as adaptable as I thought I was.

His broad shoulders lifted and fell. “I misrepresented myself tonight,” he said, his tone sober.

“What? You’re married? You have a loony wife locked up in the tower? No chance for happiness because you can’t get a divorce?”

He gaped. I think for a split second I had him. Then he burst out laughing. “Good Lord, Willow. Your imagination scares me.”

I liked his laugh. It was warm and genuine, and it gave me a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I hear a lot of stories in my salon,” I said. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Not to worry. But I’ll be happy to take you up in both of the turrets so you can check for yourself.”

‘Fair enough. So if it’s not a crazy relative, what is it? I’m guessing from those kisses earlier tonight that you’re probably not gay…are you?”

His eyes danced. “Definitely not gay. The thing is, Willow…”

It bothered me that this articulate man was having difficulty telling me what he wanted to say. It didn’t bode well for my romantic fantasy. “Spit it out, Bryce. Rip off the Band-Aid.”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you and flirted with you.”

Silence reigned in the kitchen for several long beats. “I see.” I told myself I wasn’t hurt. How could I be? I’d only met this man yesterday, or I suppose it was day before yesterday by now. The sun would be up in another few hours. “Then why did you?”

He rubbed the heel of his hand between his eyebrows. “’Tis a good question.” He shook his head, the set of his mouth grim. “I went out on a date,
one
date. One simple evening with a beautiful woman.”

“And then all hell broke loose.”

“Aye.”

“I’m sorry.” I felt somehow responsible.

“Don’t be daft. I should have known better. My life is complicated, Willow. Uncle Horatio and Abigail are my first priorities right now. And after them, Dunvarstone requires my attention. I have to make sure it’s preserved for future MacBraes.”

“How old are you, Bryce?”

He lifted an eyebrow, his gaze wary. “Thirty-seven…for a few more weeks.”

I managed a smile, though I was grieving inside for a dream that had died before it began. “Has it occurred to you that with no personal life, there may not
be
any descendants?”

Abigail stirred restlessly but didn’t wake up. Bryce glanced at her. The look on his face was illuminating. He loved her and felt responsible for her. But Abigail was an adult. Didn’t he see that?

The laird finally answered. “It may be too late for me, but Abigail will fall in love again. Get married. Have a few
bairns
of her own.”

“And you’ll be satisfied as a lonely old uncle?” After what had transpired tonight, he got my meaning.

“Ye’ve a sharp tongue.”

“True. But I don’t have a martyr complex.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me?”

Was I? Maybe. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I’m tired.” I looked at his mouth, the beautiful, sculpted, masculine lips. Just below them the firm chin shadowed with beard at this late hour. I wanted another kiss so badly, I was dizzy with desire.

I could swear his pupils dilated. “Tell me I’m right,” he said hoarsely.

I swayed toward him, my hands landing on his knees. “You’re right, Bryce.” I rested my forehead on his collarbone.

The Gaelic curses he uttered were both musical and fervent. Though I couldn’t translate, their meaning was clear. His hands, clenched in fists on his upper thighs, were white-knuckled. Slowly, one of them opened. He reached up and cupped the back of my neck, holding me to him, stroking my hair.

It wasn’t fair of me to tempt him. Not a man who was both honorable and unselfish. But to be fair, I had little to lose at this point. If you stripped him down to his bare bones—and Lord knows I had already done that a time or two in my imagination—Bryce MacBrae was the spitting image of an eighteenth-century nobleman.

Like my favorite fictional hero, Jamie, Bryce was willing to deny himself for the good of those he loved. Too bad he didn’t love me.

Considering what I had been through this evening, it took a great deal of effort to sit back and pretend I was okay with giving up something I’d never actually possessed. “Give me the bottom line.”

He nodded curtly. “I still want you to come stay at the castle…for Abigail. But you and I can only be friends.”

I shrugged, offering the performance of a lifetime. “Of course. I understand entirely. It’s not like either of us believes in love at first sight. We’ve shared a bit of animal attraction, that’s all. I’m sure that any residual hormones and pheromones will fade away when I see you on a daily basis.”

My answer didn’t seem to please him. His jaw tightened. “Well, good.”

“Fine and dandy.” I made my tone as icy as I could manage considering I had a wretched headache.

Abigail sat up and rubbed her eyes, her cheek creased and her face flushed. “If you two are finished sniping at each other, I’ll take Willow up to my room so we can get some sleep.” She looked at me with a wry smile. “The guest room hasn’t been aired out yet. I have twin beds—do you mind sharing? Just for one night?”

“Of course not. At this point, I’d almost be willing to share with Brodie.”

Abby shook her head. “He snores worse than Bryce. Come on, Willow. I’ve got extra toothbrushes and enough clothes for the moment. Goodnight, big brother.”

He kissed her on the cheek. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Is Uncle Horatio really going to be okay?” she asked.

“I think so.” Bryce looked at me. “Thanks to you and Willow.”

“Happy to help,” I said blithely. “Anything for a friend.”

* * *

I was ridiculously proud of my parting shot. Bryce was a gorgeous male specimen in the prime of his life. Did he actually think he could deny himself physical pleasure? It’s not like he lived in a monastery.

Or maybe I was the one with the problem. For a woman who normally went weeks and months without so much as a platonic date and never felt deprived, I was surprisingly cranky about the prospect of being Bryce MacBrae’s
friend
.

I wondered how much of our conversation Abigail had overheard. She could have been playing possum. I blushed at the realization that I had come very close to kissing Abby’s brother in front of her.

Clearly he
wanted
to kiss me. He’d merely decided he shouldn’t. The problem was too much for my brain at this late hour.

Abigail’s suite surprised me.

She must have noticed my reaction, because her grin was wry. “Sorry. This is my childhood bedroom. I left to get married, and when I came back home, I was too traumatized to care about changing it. I suppose I should get around to redecorating.”

“It’s a very nice room,” I said diplomatically. The pink walls and peace sign posters were oddly sweet. Perhaps Abigail had unwittingly tried to regress to a happier time in her life.

We were in our beds and had the lights out in twenty minutes.

Abigail’s voice came in the darkness. “Are you going to stay with us for part of your vacation?”

“I suppose I am.”

“I’m glad, Willow. Goodnight.”

“Me, too.”

* * *

I had hoped to wake up the following morning to sunny skies, but the weather front had stalled out. We heard on the news that some sections of Inverness were flooded, and south of us, at a little village on Loch Ness, several buildings had been swept away entirely.

Drumnadrochit. The name clicked. “That’s where my friend Hayley is staying,” I muttered. “I hope she’s okay.”

“Call her,” Abby said, looking at me as if perturbed that I hadn’t thought of it.

I was forced to explain all over again about my friends and our passion for
Outlander
and our no-technology promise. “Don’t you see, Abby? I can power my phone on tonight and send her a message, because this qualifies as a real emergency. But I can’t break our pact.”

Abby cocked her head. “I’d love to meet these friends of yours. It must be interesting when you three get together.”

“In other words, you think I’m crazy.”

“Not crazy. But I can’t imagine jetting off to the other side of the world because of some television program.”

The way she said
program
, all Scottish and upper-crust and disdainful at the same time, made me smile. “Watch
Outlander
with me and you’ll change your tune. Jamie Fraser is God’s gift to women.”

“You mean the actor?”

“Not the actor…although he’s a real sweetheart. I’m talking about the character. Jamie. Women everywhere want a man like him.”

Clearly, I wasn’t getting my point across.

Abby smiled the way people do at a senile grandparent. “Maybe it’s because I’m already Scottish,” she said. “The magic falls apart with familiarity.”

“How do you know? You haven’t even seen the show. I could order the Blu-ray collector’s edition for you, and we could watch it together. Do you have Amazon in Scotland?”

She frowned. “Of course we do. And I have Prime, so I can stream a lot of stuff for free. I’ll pass on the collector’s edition.”

“You’ll change your mind. Every true fan wants a hologram of Jamie and Claire on her bookshelf.”

Life at Dunvarstone Castle turned out to be far more exciting than staying at a youth hostel, even though the laird made himself scarce. I did see him at meals, but with his sister and uncle listening to every word, any interactions I had with Bryce were mundane at best.

I tried not to take it personally. I knew Bryce was dealing with a lot of responsibilities. According to Abby, he was trying to find someone as a live-in companion or nurse who would keep tabs on Horatio and make sure there wasn’t a repeat of the incident that occurred the night of my one and only date with Bryce.

In the meantime, I set my sights on enjoying Scotland. It might be years, if ever, before I had the chance to repeat a trip of this magnitude. I shouldn’t waste it mooning over a man who was never going to be more than a pleasant memory once I returned home.

Abby was the one who drove me back to Glenmurr so I could collect the remainder of my belongings and officially check out. I was able to get all of my prepaid deposits refunded, so now I had a nice nest egg to spend however I wanted.

As I got to know Bryce’s sister, I found a kindred spirit. We shared a similar snarky sense of humor. And like me, Abby had suffered a few hard knocks in her life.

It seemed logical to begin my explorations in Inverness. Abby offered me a vehicle to drive, but I convinced her she should go with me. I suspected she had spent far too many hours on her own brooding about what she had lost.