Scot of My Dreams (19 page)

“What else?”

“Starting at the bottom, a Scotsman in dress kilt will have a sturdy pair of ghillie brogues, leather shoes with laces. Then, of course, his hose, or socks as you might call them. Woolen and knee-length, folded over at the top. Traditionally, a
sgian dubh,
a small knife with a decorative handle and a leather sheath, is tucked in the hose.”

“Which side?”

“Depends upon whether a lad is right-handed or left-handed. Ye’d want to be able to reach for it quickly in a fight.”

“Ah. And then the kilt itself.”

“Aye. You’ve seen Bryce wear his old one around the estate. The formal version is the same colors, only much finer. He’ll have a kilt pin, perhaps jeweled, but always ornate. Then the small pouch we call the
sporran
. The kilt has no pockets, so a Scotsman’s money or other items are carried in the sporran. ’Twill be made of leather or animal hide. Again, a sporran can run the gamut from plain to verra fancy. It hangs from the leather belt. The belt usually has a decorative buckle.”

“And above the belt?”

“My brother will wear a black velvet jacket over a white Jacobite shirt.”

Now I had the full picture in my brain. It made me shiver. If Bryce looked so wonderfully male and appealing in his weekday clothing, how was I going to resist my laird in full dress regalia?

At Abigail’s urging, we moved along. We stopped only briefly for a quick cup of tea and a scone, and then we returned to meet Bryce.

Our chauffeur was silent on the drive home. Occasionally his eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. I would give a lot to know what he was thinking.

Dinner was a light affair that evening, hot sandwiches and fruit pie. The caterers had taken over the kitchens in preparation for tomorrow. Mrs. Argyle would be helping during the party, but for now, her domain had been appropriated.

Horatio looked better than I had seen him in some time. He was to attend the gala along with his niece and nephew. I suspected the evening would make him think of days gone by. At any rate, he was visibly animated.

I ate my meal in silence. Abby was talking enough for both of us, and I was barely able to look at Bryce.
Let me come to you tonight.
His words echoed in my head and created a churning in my stomach. I’d already kicked the habit once. Was this how addicts felt? Just one drink more; it can’t hurt.

But it could, and it would. If I let Bryce into my bed tonight, I’d only be making the eventual goodbye worse.

Nevertheless, the decision had been made. In truth, there was never a question. After what happened at lunch today, I knew what I wanted. I wanted the laird.

After dinner, the house bustled with activity. There were all sorts of last minute details that no one would have time for tomorrow. Abigail asked me to help her practice a hairstyle to complement her gown. I caught up most of her glorious curls is a deceptively simply knot, and left one spiral to dangle at her ear. She looked adorable.

My own hair was getting longer, but I could do without a cut until I got home. In the meantime, I would wash it tomorrow right before the party and give it my usual finger comb. The dash of purple had mostly faded. I was glad. I didn’t want to be out of place among the Dunvarstone guests.

I had half-expected Bryce to stop me when I left the dining room at dinner’s end, but he didn’t. I suspected he had plenty on his plate to keep him busy until bedtime.

At eight thirty, I took a quick shower and slathered lotion on my arms and legs. I wasn’t positive Bryce would show up, but I wanted to be ready. In a fresh tank top and pajama pants, I curled up on the bed and tried to write a few more postcards.

At nine, I remembered to turn on my phone and check for messages, not really expecting any. In the entire time I had been in Scotland, the only communication I had received was a text from Hayley letting me know she was okay after the flood. I waited impatiently for everything to power up, wanting to stow the phone before Bryce knocked.

When I looked at my messages, my heart sank. There were three texts from my mother.
9-1-1. Call me ASAP.

My mother is many things, but she’s not an alarmist. I dialed her number immediately. When she answered, I was breathless, my hearting pounding away. “What is it, Mom? What’s up?”

As she began to speak, my world crumbled. Nausea and shock turned my hands to ice. A few moments later, Bryce knocked. I didn’t know what to do. Acting on autopilot, I opened the door and motioned him in.

Trying to mask my anger and dismay, I swallowed hard. “Thanks for calling. I’ll figure out what to do. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

I looked at Bryce, so dear…so strong. And I burst into tears.

Afterward, I had no idea how long I sobbed. This emotional outburst was so unlike me, but I was scared and stunned and half out of my mind with distress.

Bryce let me cry it out. We sat on the edge of my bed, his arms around me, holding me close. I burrowed into his embrace, wanting to cling, but knowing I shouldn’t. This wasn’t his problem.

Finally, he held me at arm’s length and studied my face. “Tell me what happened, Willow. I’ve never seen you like this. Is someone sick? Or worse?”

He was so gentle, so compassionate. Why had it taken me an ocean crossing to find a man who was genuine, decent, and warm?

I wiped my face with my fingers. Bryce offered me a soft cotton handkerchief. He waited…waited for me to gather my shattered composure. “It’s the shop,” I said. “My salon, Hair Essentials
.
The Internal Revenue Service has seized it and padlocked the doors for non-payment of back taxes.”

He frowned. “Surely they sent notices.”

I nodded, feeling numb. “Yes. To my business partner who handles all the financial paperwork. Apparently she’s not only taken the tax money but also everything in the business account as well… and has fled the country.”

“Good lord. I’m so sorry, Willow.”

That started the tears again. This time, after a few minutes, I pulled myself together by sheer force of will. “I have to go home,” I said.

Bryce shook his head. “That may be so, but there’s naught can be done about it tonight. Sleep on it. Problems always seen better in the morning.”

“You don’t understand,” I said. “My ladies have no income if they don’t work. I’m responsible for them. They have bills to pay and mouths to feed.”

“I’m not making light of the situation, lass, but you’ve had a shock. A good night’s rest will make for a clearer head. He folded back the covers on the bed.

I hesitated. “I’m sorry, Bryce. But I don’t think I’m up for sex tonight.”

He gave me a look that questioned my intelligence. “Good God, woman. What kind of man do you think I am? Get in bed and let me hold you. We’ll figure something out in the morning.”

For the next nine hours, he held me as I slept. We spooned together, Bryce at my back. With his arms around me, I felt utterly safe and warm. Still, every time I fell into a restless slumber, I stirred an hour or two later, crying out with a nightmare. Bryce stroked my hair and kissed me and lulled me back to sleep.

When the sun peeked in through the drapes the following morning, I dragged myself awake, knowing instantly that something was amiss. Then it crashed over me with dreadful recall. I had lost everything. Even worse, my employees were going to be in dire straights.

One of my stylists, Wanda, was mother to a special needs child. Another stylist, Danita, cared for her aging grandfather. I had let them down in the worst possible way.

Bryce rubbed his eyes and sat up. His chin was covered in early morning stubble, and his eyelids were heavy. Anyone looking at us would think we had spent the night engaged in wild, naughty sex.

I could barely sort out the emotions that weighed me down. “We should get dressed,” I said dully. “There’s a lot to do today.” I would try to get my plane ticket moved up, but that didn’t involve Bryce and Abigail. I’d soon be on my way, and they would be embroiled in their big event.

“Look at me, Willow.” Bryce cupped my face in his hands. The blue of his irises made me dizzy. “Let me give you the money,” he said. “Not as an outright gift, though that would be my preference. But I understand how you feel about standing on your own two feet, not leaning on a man. This would be a no-interest loan. You can take however long you need to pay it back.”

“I have no idea how much the total is,” I said, fighting despair. “It might be years before I could repay you.”

“Doesn’t matter.” His tone was firm. “I have the funds, Willow. What good is it to have assets if you can’t help a friend?”

If it had been me alone, I think I would have found the courage to say no. However, my employees didn’t deserve to have their livelihoods upended because I had been foolish enough to bestow my trust in the wrong person.

“I need to think about it. I should contact the IRS right away.”

“Think of the time difference,” he said. “And besides, today is Saturday. There’s no need for you to make any decisions until the weekend is over. You could call your mother this evening and ask her to assure your employees that everything will be okay.”

“But will it?”

“It will. I promise. On Monday when the governmental offices open in the States, we can determine the amount you owe. I can wire the money, and the tax men should move quickly to remove the lien on your property.”

“It’s the government,” I said, trying to smile and failing miserably. “Nothing moves quickly.”

He pulled me into his arms and rested his forehead against mine. “I’d ask only one thing of you in return.”

“What is it?” I whispered, imagining that he was going to mention spending tonight together.

“I want you to enjoy, really enjoy, the last few days of your vacation, tonight’s party in particular. You’ve had a shock, I know. But if you can put it aside for a few hours, you deserve to have your Scottish ball. To round out your month. What do you say?”

I put my hands on his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, I managed a genuine smile, though it was on the wobbly side. “Thank you, Bryce. And yes. I’ll do my best to have fun tonight. Now go. Please. Before someone comes looking for you.”

He lifted my chin and stared intently into my eyes. “Are you going to be okay? You won’t cry anymore?”

I shook my head. “No crying. I know you’re right. I can’t deal with any of this until Monday, so I might as well enjoy myself this evening.”

“That’s my lass.” He toyed with the narrow strap of my tank top. “I don’t know many women who could look as beautiful as you do straight from the bed.” The words were low and intimate, muttered with a hoarse sincerity that sent a shiver down my spine.

The unexpected compliment startled me. I fidgeted, self-conscious and uneasy. I was an ugly crier, so my eyes were probably puffy. “Thank you.”

“You’re blushing,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at me. “Let me be clear, Willow. The money comes without strings attached. But make no mistake, I want you whenever and however we can manage it until you go home. Are we on the same page?”

I nodded, my throat tight. “Yes.”

“Good.” He kissed me on the nose. I suspected we both wanted more. Our defenses were down. I felt more comfortable with him than I ever had before. But despite that comfort, on another level, I wasn’t comfortable at all. My body ached to meld with his.

“Go,” I urged.
Before I do something reckless like strip naked and keep you locked in my bedroom all day.

He rolled out of bed and stood, stretching and yawning. “I’m going.”

I stood up as well. “Is there anything I can do to help today?”

“I think the event planner has everything under control. Do keep an eye on Abigail for me. This is a big step for her. It’s bound to bring back some memories.”

“I will. She’ll be okay, Bryce.”

He played with a lock of my hair. “And so will you, Willow. You have my word.”

* * *

The day flew by. I couldn’t shake the sense of doom. I felt as if someone had died. Fortunately, I didn’t have much time to dwell on my situation. Abby was in a tizzy over one thing after another. There were floral deliveries to receive, and an ice sculpture that had to be kept in the walk-in freezer. I helped her as much as I could.

Midafternoon, when Abby went to take her shower, I phoned my mother. I deputized her to reassure my stylists that the shop would reopen very soon, sounding more confident than I felt. Mom questioned me about the money, but I put her off with some vague reassurances.

I didn’t lie exactly, but I probably needed to be face-to-face with my mother when I explained why a Scottish laird was willing to loan me a large sum of money to satisfy the IRS.

After that uncomfortable call, it was time for me to get ready. I showered, washed my hair, and shaved my legs. The gala would last until after midnight. Everyone would be exhausted. Maybe Bryce wouldn’t even think about the two of us being together tonight. The bulk of the evening’s social niceties were all on him. It was bound to be draining, even for a man accustomed to formal occasions.

Still, crazy as it was, I hoped the two of us would find time at the end of the day to satisfy the hunger that simmered just beneath the surface. I felt it. I was a hundred percent sure Bryce felt it as well.

The guests would begin arriving between 6:30 and 7:15 for hors d’oeuvres. Because the weather was absolutely perfect, small tables had been scattered throughout the gardens, so people could mix and mingle as they enjoyed a glass of wine and a bit of food.

The sit-down dinner was to be served promptly at 7:30. My plan for the entire event was to fade into the woodwork. I knew no one at all other than my hosts. For me, this evening was the equivalent of watching a lavish Broadway production or visiting a very realistic movie set. I was truly lucky to be part of things, even though I was a visitor, and a short-term one at that.

Sadly, much of my excitement had faded. I couldn’t stop thinking about Evelyn and what she had done to me and my employees. Would this have happened if I had turned down McKenzie’s offer and stayed home in Georgia? There was no way of knowing. Guilt and regret choked me.