Scot of My Dreams (16 page)

I gaped. Instead of blushing, every drop of blood rushed from my head to my feet. I felt dizzy and appalled. “You heard us?” I whispered, more embarrassed than I had ever been in my life.

She frowned. “Heard you when?”

“Um, talking to each other?” I backpedaled rapidly. If she wasn’t referring to last night, what did she mean?

“If you don’t have a scarf, I can loan you one. So no one will know.”

“Know what?” Had I lost my mind? This conversation was bizarre, but I didn’t have a clue why.

Abby winced and reached out a hand to touch my neck just above my collarbone. “You have a hickey,” she said. “It’s hard to miss.”

I prepared for dinner feeling like a woman with a scarlet A on my chest. Nothing like a love bite to shout to the world that the sexy laird and his American houseguest had been up to no good.

Thank God Abby had noticed and offered a wardrobe solution. No amount of makeup would have covered up the small reddish bruise. I couldn’t decide if I was more mortified or smug. My teenage years hadn’t been all that reckless. It seemed I was making up for lost time.

Horatio was the first one in the dining room. I joined him and exchanged a few pleasantries about the weather. He had not suffered any lasting damage from his late-night excursion, though I still felt bad that it had occurred when Bryce was out with me.

I pulled my chair closer to Horatio’s and tried to make small talk. He was hard of hearing, so the task was arduous. “Where were you born, Mr. MacBrae? Here in the castle?”

“Aye. I was fifth in a string of wild bairns.”

“Wild?”

“Dunvarstone was a brilliant life for a child. The heathered hills to range up and over. Creeks for fishing. A huge castle to play hide and seek. Och, it was grand. Except for the occasional winter storm that kept us in for days, we were free as birds, free to come and go as we pleased. Our parents didn’t hover the way today’s young folk do.”

“And school?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “We had a tutor. He was a timid sort. ’Twas not hard to elude him. Fortunately, we were all fairly bright, or I suppose we’d have been sent down when we finally got to university.”

“You must have many good memories.”

His bushy eyebrows beetled as he wiped his nose with a handkerchief. “Aye. That’s the blessing and the curse of being an old man.”

“Do Bryce and Abigail have cousins?”

He shook his head. “Nay. Some say the MacBraes were cursed. I was the only one of my generation who lived past forty.”

Bryce walked into the room. He kissed his uncle’s head. “We’re not cursed, Uncle. Unlucky, maybe, but not cursed.”

Horatio frowned at him. “Sounds like the same thing t’ me.”

Fortunately, Abby joined us, too, and the argument derailed. Horatio enjoyed his food. Once dinner was served, he fell silent, content to eat without comment.

Abby seemed particularly quiet for a change. Bryce had told me more than once that she’d blossomed having me to spend time with. Tonight, however, she was definitely subdued.

With two of the four disinclined to talk, it was up to Bryce and me to carry the conversation. Mrs. Argyle served a clear consommé followed by braised chicken breasts with orange sauce.

I swallowed a bite and tried to pretend I wasn’t imagining the laird naked. “Abby has asked me to cut her hair after dinner,” I said. “I’d be happy to do yours as well.”

His smile was rueful. “I’m shaggy, I know. That would be nice, Willow.”

The way he said my name made everything inside me go soft. What was supposed to be a matter-of-fact statement sounded like a verbal caress to my ears.

Abby’s head was bent, all her attention focused on the chicken. “Didn’t you want to tell Bryce something?” I asked. Maybe she was finding it difficult to bring up the topic. I was happy to be her wingman.

Unfortunately, she blanched, her expression hunted.

Bryce smiled. “What’s up, lass?”

The atmosphere was strained, and I didn’t even know what I had done.

Abigail cleared her throat. “I went to the dentist in Inverness today.”

“Aye. You told me. Did the man give you a lollipop for having no cavities?”

“I don’t think they do that anymore,” I muttered. Or maybe they did in Scotland. Who knew?

“The check-up was fine,” Abby said. She sat up, her spine straight. Her eyes were bright with excitement, though she seemed braced for something. “The office next door had an advertisement in the window.”

I loved how she said that…
ad-ver-tiz-ment,
emphasis on the
ver
. So very British Isles.

Bryce wasn’t impressed. “What kind of advertisement?”

Abigail clasped her hands in front of her on the table. “’Twas a solicitor’s office. The receptionist is going on leave to have a baby. They need a temp. And I have all the necessary skills.”

Bryce’s expression was hard to read. I suspected he thought of Abigail as wounded. He loved his sister. He cleared his throat. “You know I would do anything for you, Abby. I’ve tried not to push you, because people grieve in their own way and their own time. But…”

She leaned forward. “But what?”

He lifted his shoulders and let them fall. “This seems a little impulsive.”

Abigail looked at me. “Willow and her friends traveled partway around the world for a grand adventure. All I’m proposing is to drive into Inverness.”

I gave her an encouraging smile and then promptly felt like a traitor when Bryce stared at me, clearly trying to decide if I was responsible for this dramatic shift.

Abby reached across the table and took her brother’s hand. “Please, Bryce. It’s not a permanent job. But I think it’s time for me to break out of the cocoon.”

“Dunvarstone isn’t exactly a prison.” Bryce’s wry sarcasm hit its mark.

“Oh, don’t be mad.” Her eyes welled with tears until her brother rounded the table and put his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m not mad, Abigail. Never. If this is what you want, I’ll support you.”

She jumped up to hug him. Horatio had nodded off. I felt like an intruder. This was a family moment, between brother and sister.

Carefully, I slid out of my chair and inched toward the door.

Bryce, his back to me, stopped me in my tracks. “Not so fast, Willow.”

I turned around. “I thought you two needed some alone time. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Nonsense. We’re about to toast my little sister’s job prospects.”

Abigail laughed nervously. “You’re right. I don’t actually have the position yet.”

“But you will,” I said. “Who could say no to a MacBrae?”

* * *

Bryce gave me hell for that remark later. We were in the garden, and the light was fading slowly. I had already cut Abby’s hair. She was delighted with her new look. Although she asked for chin length, I had convinced her to start with just-above-the-shoulders. If possible, I steered customers away from making sweeping changes all at once, especially ones that were irreversible.

Now it was Bryce’s turn. He sat on the stool in front of me. “I heard what you said earlier, Willow. Were you insinuating that I pressured you into having sex? You can say no to me anytime you want.”

“It was a joke,” I said. “Surely you’ve figured out by now that I’m a smart-ass.”

He scrunched up his face in distaste. “American slang is so blunt.”

“Sorry.” I tapped his shoulders. “Be still. Otherwise you’re going to end up with a lopsided haircut.”

He didn’t say anything else. I was glad. It took all my concentration to do the job I had been trained to do. I slid my fingers through Bryce’s hair, lifting a section at a time and snipping the ends. While in Inverness today, Abby had shopped around and purchased a high-quality pair of scissors and an electric shaver, the kind a barber uses. That was how I knew for sure she was serious about the haircut.

I had already used the shaver to clean up the laird’s neckline. Now I was thinning out his thick, chestnut hair. It had a slight wave to it that was more pronounced because of the length. I could tell the original cut was a good one, but he was probably a month overdue.

Bryce sat, unmoving. I worked as quickly as I could. Being so close to him and not able to touch him the way I wanted to brought home how deeply I was enmeshed in this infatuation.

“What’s wrong, Willow?”

I hated the way he could read me so easily, even with his back turned. “Nothing. I know you mentioned a walk later. But Abby wants to watch
Outlander
again tonight. I’ve created a monster.”

“It’s good to see her so interested in something…anything. I’ve wondered sometimes if this day would ever come.”

“She’s lucky to have you in her life. You offered stability and love when her world fell apart.”

“I couldn’t bring him back.”

“No.” The sudden stab of grief caught me off guard. Once I boarded a plane and put an ocean between Bryce and me, he might as well be dead.
I love him.
The knowledge struck me like a physical blow. It was inevitable, I suppose. But he was never going to be mine.

He cared for so many people—his uncle, his sister, friends in need, the estate his father had dumped on him, and now, even me. But who was there to look after Bryce?

If Abby took the temp job, it would be only the beginning. I was sure Bryce realized it, too. Eventually she would find a permanent position. She would make new friends. Meet a man. Fall in love. Get married. Move out of the castle.

Since Horatio was living on borrowed time, there would come a day in the near future when Bryce would be all alone. He would finally be free to meet someone and possibly get married at last. The thought of it pained me, particularly since I wouldn’t be the one to share his bed. Or maybe he’d be too set in his ways by then and not want any woman to clutter up his life.

As I finished the haircut, I realized my hands were shaking. I’d never had a panic attack, but I suspected I was in the midst of one. I’d embroiled myself in a hell of a situation. Somehow Scotland had made me vulnerable. Otherwise, why would I have let down my guard so easily with Bryce…and even with his family?

The Willow Ryman who lived in Georgia and owned a modestly successful hair salon was not a warm, fuzzy woman. She was tart and self-reliant and kept emotional boundaries firmly in place.

There was a reason for that. Love hurt, damn it.

I set the scissors and shaver on a nearby wall and brushed my hands together to get rid of the loose hair. With a careful motion, I removed the towel that protected Bryce’s shirt. “All done,” I said, my tone falsely bright.

He stood up and adjusted his collar. “Thank you, Willow.”

I shrugged. “It’s the least I could do.”

“We could take that walk now.” His tone was low and intimate. “Before my sister drags you away.”

When he reached for me, I backed away instinctively.

He froze. “Willow?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on, lass?” He should have been angry. My behavior could certainly be classified as erratic. Instead, his gaze was filled with concern.

The knot in my chest made it hard to speak. Or to breathe. “I think you may have been right, Bryce.”

A line appeared between his eyebrows. “Ye’ve lost me, woman. Right about what?”

“About us being only friends.”

He tensed. Visibly. “I thought we agreed that I was an ass, and wrong to boot. Did I hurt you somehow, Willow? Tell me what’s going on.”

All I wanted to do was huddle in my bed with the covers over my head and cry. But that wasn’t an option. At least not for a few hours.

I saw him reach for me again and then stop himself. That hurt. A lot. I’d made him afraid to touch me.

“It’s not you,” I said. “It’s me.”

For the first time in our relationship, I saw bitterness in his expression. “Do me the courtesy of shooting straight. You don’t need to lie to me.”

“I think I should move out of the castle,” I blurted. The pain in my chest was literally breathtaking.

His eyes widened in shock before every bit of expression on his face was wiped clean. “This seems rather sudden. Particularly since at lunchtime today you were riding me bare-bummed.”

“Now who’s being crass?” Tears burned my eyes. I had botched this badly. “I can’t do this, Bryce. I thought I could, but I can’t. It’s too much, too fast. I don’t trust myself.”

“Or you don’t trust me.” He said it flatly. Without inflection. But for a split second, I saw what looked like raw torment in his gaze.

“That’s not true,” I said. “You have to believe me.”

“Then what’s the explanation?” He crossed his arms over his chest, staring at me as if we had never been naked together, had never made each other laugh and groan and come apart at the seams.

I don’t want you to break my heart.
But I couldn’t say that out loud. He wouldn’t understand. Bryce MacBrae was old enough to have had several relationships with women. He’d never shown any inclination toward marriage or settling down to create a family of his own.

In fact, even in the brief time I had known him, he had made more than one reference to being a beloved uncle. But not a husband. Not a father.

Perhaps maintaining Dunvarstone was too much of a burden for him to add other responsibilities. Like keeping a wife happy. Or bonding with a child.

I was deeply afraid that all Bryce wanted from me was sex. I wasn’t strong enough emotionally to give him that and then calmly walk away. It was better to make the break now before I let him see how much the fantasy romance between the sexy Scottish laird and the unsophisticated American had become real to me.

How could I explain so that he would understand? How could I keep my secret?

As I searched for a plausible lie, Bryce muttered an oath beneath his breath. “Forget it, Willow. The reason doesn’t matter. I’ll leave you alone. For Abigail’s benefit, please don’t move out. There no’ much left of your vacation. Stay ‘til the end. She’s so happy. Whatever your feelings about me, don’t make my sister suffer.”

He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me alone in the beautiful garden. I was a wretched failure as a human being. Bryce had looked at me with such disdain, I felt bruised in spirit. I owed the young Spanish bride I’d met at the hostel an apology. Turns out, a heart can indeed break.