The Great Scot (28 page)

Erin really wished she'd closed the door and started up the car. She considered doing that now, but Daisy had her more or less trapped. A trap of Erin's own making, so she had no one to blame but herself. “Wrong about what things?” she asked, knowing she wasn't going to get out of there until Daisy got whatever was really bothering her off her chest. So much for diverting attention away from herself.

“Oh, nothing really, it's just that I was known as something of a matchmaker back in my old life, and I was kind of instrumental in getting Brodie and his wife, Kat, together, after I arrived here in Glenbuie. I guess it's like I said, it's none of my business, but I had the feeling that there might be something other than business discussions going on between you and Dylan.” She put up a quick hand to stop Erin from commenting. “I'm not unhappy about that possibility, either. Actually, I was really intrigued by the idea of you two together. I'll even confess that I partly tracked you down this morning for the reason we talked about, but it was also an excuse to get the chance to talk to you a little, and, well, be nosey.” She laughed self-consciously. “I guess living in a small village is rubbing off on me. I swear I'm no busybody. But I do care about Dylan a great deal. His brothers have been worried that he's spent too much time boarded up out there in Glenshire cutting himself off from rejoining the rest of the world. They've been pushing him, as brothers do, but they're so grateful he's home to stay, they haven't prodded too much. Not to mention that Dylan isn't exactly all that easily prodded.”

For once, Erin managed to wisely say nothing.

“Anyway,” Daisy went on quickly, seemingly determined to get this out now that she'd begun, “I've worked with him a little on the website stuff and I share his brothers' concerns. We were thrilled when you were able to talk him into leasing out Glenshire for the television program. Not just because we all thought it was great for the bed and breakfast and for the rest of the village, but having his house overrun with people would force him back to the land of the living. We knew that would happen to some degree when the guests he'd booked started showing up, but this was even better.” She grinned. “And it didn't hurt, from his brothers' perspective, that a lot of the people cluttering up the house would be gorgeous women. Men,” she added, with an eye roll. “But I'll admit to being a bit curious to seeing how he'd react to all that, too. I hate that he's cut himself off like he has. I know how tragic the circumstances were, but…well, anyway. Then we heard you and Dylan had taken off for the day a while back, and we put that together with him coming into town that first night after meeting you, then agreeing to the lease because of you, and, well, of course we were all a bit curious.” She put her hand out. “In a good way, I promise.” She smiled her friendly smile. “We like you.”

Erin found herself smiling back. Daisy had the kind of infectious, bubbly force of nature that was hard to resist. In any other situation, she'd be interested in getting to know Daisy better, maybe developing a friendship. The very notion surprised her. Other than Dana, which was a work relationship that had become a friendship, Erin didn't pursue that avenue. Too complicated. The idea that the town liked her gave her a rare warm fuzzy feeling as well. She liked the villagers, liked Glenbuie. They'd made her feel comfortable here. Or as comfortable as possible, anyway.

Of course, once they found out she was going to spurn Dylan's desire to continue developing a relationship with her, they might not be feeling so friendly toward her. She could only hope that Dylan was a man of his word and would stand by his offer to be the next Prince Charming. If his family and friends saw him making that kind of leap, they couldn't be too angry with her for nudging him in that direction. Maybe they'd realize it had all been for the best and forgive her. Not that it mattered, really. She'd be leaving eventually anyway. The thought had her rubbing at that achey spot on her chest again.

“And then you arrived together this morning,” Daisy went on, “and, well, enquiring minds and all that. You can tell me to take a flying leap, and I wouldn't be hurt if you did, it's just…” She trailed off for a moment, seeming indecisive, then abruptly blurted out the rest. “You say it's business, but then you light up when his name comes up. And he's not the kind of man to spend time with someone, heck, anyone, these days, if he doesn't have to. If he's with you, it's because he wants to be. Now, I know I'm biased, but for good reason. And all I'm saying is, you could do worse than one of the Chisholm brothers, but not a lot better. They're a determined, loyal, dedicated lot. And very tenacious when they want something.”

Tell me something I don't know
, Erin thought morosely, feeling worse now than before, which was saying something. Unprepared for Daisy's sudden speech, Erin was caught too offguard to school her expression, and Daisy had obviously seen something of what she was grappling with. So she didn't even try to evade the topic again. “I—I don't know what to tell you, Daisy. It's…complicated,” she said, deciding on honesty, as much as she could anyway.

“So is Dylan,” Daisy said with a smile. “But in a good way, I think.” She leaned down and gave Erin a spontaneous hug, then immediately stepped back. “I'm sorry to thrust all that on you like that, and I wouldn't have if I didn't think it was worth at least putting it out there.” She shook her head and smiled ruefully. “I've said enough. Too much, probably. But I care about him, we all do. We want to see him happy. And lately? From the glimpses I've seen…he is happy. He's like a Dylan I've never met, one his brothers have missed immensely. I just wanted you to know how grateful we are for that. And tell you personally what a lucky woman I think you are. So, whatever happens, thank you, for giving him that much of himself back.”

“I'm not even his type,” Erin blurted. “He told me so himself.” She shut up, shifted her gaze ahead, seeing nothing, feeling far too much. She was going to tape her mouth shut, that's what she was going to do.

Daisy froze in the act of stepping back up on the curb, then turned back to Erin. “Dylan had that all sorted out in his head before, you know. And it didn't serve him too well.”

Erin glanced up at Daisy, surprised.

“He thinks we all believe his marriage to Maribel was a match made in heaven. And it's true, the villagers like to think of it as a fairy tale. It plays better, makes them feel good. But his brothers know there was trouble in paradise, or certainly suspected it. They suspected his reasons for staying on were more complicated than he let on. As I said, once a Chisholm is dedicated to something, there's never a more loyal man. Dylan's come home. And he's not the same man he once was. So why he thinks his tastes are the same, I have no idea. If you say he's interested, even thinking you're not his type, then maybe he's finally operating from the heart. I'm sure it's as much a surprise to him as it is to anyone. Don't give up on him just because he might not be clear on what he wants.”

Erin snorted before she could stop herself, then groaned inwardly at Daisy's increased interest. “If I get him to sign on with the show, he'll have the chance to meet a variety of potential Ms. Rights. At the very least he'll put himself back out there, give himself a chance to figure out what he does want.” She dared to look at Daisy again. “I don't think it can be me. I…my life isn't here.”

Daisy studied her for a moment, then a hint of a smile crossed her face. “But you've thought about it, haven't you?” She pushed the car door shut, and tapped the roof. “That's why you asked me, isn't it? So, think about it some more. A man like him doesn't come along twice in a lifetime.” Her grin spread. “Trust me, I know whereof I speak. Give him a chance, Erin. Or maybe it's more about giving yourself one.”

With a wave she walked away, back toward the village square, leaving Erin to pull out of the lot and head toward Glenshire, a hell of a lot more confused than ever.

D
ylan clicked open another window on his computer screen and shuffled through the folders on his desk, all the while keeping the phone pinned between his shoulder and his ear. He punched the intercom button and laid the phone down. “Go ahead and sell that block, Ian,” he instructed. “But hold on the other two until I get back to you.”

“Are you sure you want to do that, mate? I'm telling you, it's going down and you should strike now—”

“Too risky for my blood at the moment. I'll be in touch next week.”

There was a short sigh. “You're no fun, you know that.”

Dylan smiled. “I can't afford to be fun.” He clicked off and was closing folders when a tap came at the door. Now it was his turn to sigh. He'd been home a few hours and for one reason or another, a production staffer of some rank or position found a reason to intrude on his privacy every other minute. “You say you want me out of sight, then don't keep sending people up here to annoy me.”

“Dylan?”

His head shot up, and a grin immediately creased his face. “Erin.”

“I'm interrupting.” She nodded toward the clutter on his desk as she walked closer.

“No, I'm finished. Just some portfolio business to tend to before heading out.” He flipped several folders shut, switched off his monitor, then pushed his chair back and stood. “I'm all yours.”

He could see immediately from the set of her shoulders, and her jaw, that she'd spent their time apart girding her defenses yet again, instead of letting them down any further. And he tried not to be discouraged. Or scared. Or both.

He knew he was asking a great deal of her and that her default position was to protect rather than risk. So, rather than give her an opening, he made a preemptive strike. He surprised a squeal out of her by scooping her up in his arms and striding across the rooms of his upper floor apartment. There was the study, which doubled as his office, a living room area, and his bedroom. The latter was his intended destination.

“Dylan, what are you doing?”

“Fulfilling a particular fantasy of mine. One in which you have a recurring starring role. Nightly, in fact.”

“What?” She didn't struggle, but she did squirm. “Wait!”

“Keep wriggling like that and our trip might be further delayed,” he warned. Any response she might have made went out on a gasp when he landed them both across his massive, centuries old four-poster bed.

He rolled so she was pinned, breathless, half beneath him.

“You know, we can't keep jumping into bed every time we spend five seconds together,” she told him, looking more disconcerted than he'd like. Actually, she looked almost…scared.

His heart started to pound then, but he shoved away the insecurities rearing their ugly heads. “Ah, but we haven't,” he said, fighting to keep the teasing tone to his voice. “In fact, a bed has rarely been involved. I thought to remedy that. I've been sitting there, laboring at my desk, sorely preoccupied by this image I have of you, sprawled here, amongst my linens, in my bed. Lord only knows what I may have traded or bought today. You really are quite a distraction.” He brushed at the wispy hair on her forehead. “I must say, however, reality eclipses my imagination. Although I'll admit you were wearing far less the way I pictured it.” He plucked at the buttons on her blouse.

She pushed at his hands. “Wait a minute. Dylan. Stop.”

He stopped, but left his hand where it rested. He could see she was struggling, and though his instincts told him to keep pushing, not to allow her to hide behind her well structured defenses, he found he couldn't force his attentions on her. Though he wanted to. Badly. It was the only time she seemed to go with her heart and not with her head.

He wanted to do whatever it took to batter down those walls once and for all. But he couldn't if she didn't give him a fighting chance. “Erin, I know this is a lot. And I know it's fast. But I dinna have the luxury of time. I want to make every second count.”

Her lips quirked, despite the fact that he saw how hard she was struggling to regain control of the situation. “And that means getting me naked for most of them?”

His own lips curved even as his heart continued to race. “Aye, it did seem a point in both our favors.”

She held his gaze, and what he saw there both heartened and scared him. Desire, yes. But also pain. And confusion.

“I need to talk to you,” she said quietly. “Only, not like this.”

So perhaps he wasn't entirely willing not to use every advantage. He was fighting for his life here. Their potential life. He lowered his mouth to hers. “We'll have hours on the road to Inverness to do nothing but talk, and I promise to be all ears,” he murmured. “But perhaps we shouldn't waste such a promising opportunity. We've a little time, surely.” He kissed her, half afraid she'd turn her head away. She didn't.

She held still for all of a second, then she sighed, heavily, as if defeated, and all the stiffness went out of her. He pressed the advantage, even though all the warning bells were ringing. She went pliant beneath him, her mouth softening, opening to him, her body accepting the weight of his as he pulled her more fully beneath him.

And damn him for using her helpless attraction to him to his advantage, but if that was his only way to get past her defenses, then it was an advantage he'd press without apology.

“I have pictured you here,” he whispered against her lips. “Wanted the scent of you on my pillow, the weight of you on my sheets, pressing against me.” He pushed between her legs and she instinctively arched up to meet him. He cursed the barrier of their clothing, but didn't try to undress her again. It was enough, at the moment, that she was willing to admit to herself and him that she wanted him, at least in this way, as desperately as he wanted her.

Her nails dug into his back as she slipped her ankles around his legs and pressed tightly up to meet his slow thrusts. They were both moaning, electrified by the renewed intimate contact, and frustrated at the lack of fulfillment. “I do want you, Erin.” He forced himself to lift his head, to meet her gaze, despite knowing it would give her a chance to rally her forces. “But no' just like this. I want the chance to know all of you this intimately. To understand who you are, why you came to be the woman you are, what drives you, what motivates you.”

She gazed back into his eyes, taking in his words, offering nothing of her own. For once silent, when he least wanted her to be.

“I know I'm in no position to offer much flexibility in return. But we'll find someone in Inverness this weekend who'll make Tommy happy, give us that extra time, at least, to explore this a bit more. All I'm asking is that you give us that much of a chance.”

And, like that, her gaze shuttered. She slipped her legs from his and pushed him, gently, but firmly off her, then quickly rolled to a sitting position, sliding her legs off the side of the bed, keeping her back to him.

He rolled to his side, propped his head on one hand, and waited for her to talk. He'd said enough. Possibly far too much. He wanted what he wanted. Perhaps he should have tempered his pursuit a wee bit, but he hadn't known what else to do. Whatever the case, it was too late now.

“I…uh…” She paused, cleared her throat. But her voice was still a bit on the raspy side when she finally continued. “I didn't mean to let things go in this direction. I have no defense for that and it was wrong of me. I'm sorry. I just…you…” She stopped, shook her head, and he thought he saw her shoulders tremble a bit when she took a deep breath. “It's not easy with you, or maybe it's that it's too easy. I should have been stronger. But I'm not yet.”

Yet.
Dylan's heart squeezed, but he schooled himself to remain just where he was. To allow her to conduct herself without his interference this time. It was, perhaps, the hardest thing he'd ever done.

“I—you—” She broke off, shook her head, dipped her chin, but kept her back squarely to him. “I've never met anyone like you. I'm not exactly sure what to do in this kind of situation. I can't seem to control things like I usually do. And I…” She shook her head again, her shoulders lifting and falling, as if she felt somewhat helpless to explain.

He curled his fingers inward against the need to reach for her, to touch her, hold her, support her while she found her words. But he suspected they weren't words he was going to want to hear. And making her endure his touch wouldn't perhaps bring her the solace he intended them to bring, but instead make the burden she seemed to be bearing that much harder to contend with.

In that moment, he came to realize that he truly was falling in love. Because, in the end, rather than press his own case, forge ahead with his own demands, so certain it was what was best for them both…he was willing to completely abdicate that position and allow her to have whatever it was that would make her feel settled, secure. Happy. Even if it came at the expense of losing his own happiness.

“I honestly don't know what to do about it. I tried just ignoring my concerns, going with the flow, as it were. Have my little highland fling. You make that very easy. It's easy when we're all caught up in it to pretend there aren't complicating factors, like that we're people with real emotions, emotions that grow and get inevitably tangled and messy. To ignore the reality that the more time I let myself spend with you, the harder it's going to be to go back to my world and let this one become a mere memory. A fond one, perhaps. But maybe a painful one, too.” She lifted a shoulder, let it drop. A soft sigh escaped her. “I asked myself if it was worth it, risking the pain or heartache, to have this…have you, for whatever time I'm allowed.” She finally glanced back at him over her shoulder. “And to be honest with you, I'm already feeling that pain, that heartache, just thinking about the end. And I don't know how to handle that. It's not a choice I've ever had to make.”

Dylan slowly sat up and shifted so his back rested amongst the pile of pillows stacked against the head board. He held her gaze, then simply held his hand out to hers. “Come here. Just…for now. Please.”

Erin's chin quivered, but she finally shifted her weight, reached her hand to his. It was all he could do not to yank her against him, to take her to places he knew only the two of them could reach. Instead, he corralled all of his strength, all of his control, and merely tugged her next to him, tucking her close, her cheek to his chest, and held her there, feeling her pressed against his heartbeat, and wondering just when his entire world had started to collapse.

He held her, stroked her hair, stroked her back, and forced the words he wanted to say to remain unspoken. He'd said too much already and placed an apparent burden on her she was unprepared to carry.

At length, she spoke again. “I came up here today, to tell you I was going to Inverness by myself. And…and to take you up on your offer.”

His hand stilled on her back. “Which offer was that?”

He felt her hold her breath, her body tensing beneath his touch. “The offer to be our next Prince Charming.”

He stilled completely, didn't dare breathe, didn't dare speak.

“I've done nothing but think about this…us. And I think it's for the best.”

“For the best?” he ground out, suddenly ferociously angry, but somehow managing to keep that at bay.

“I don't think I can do this, get any more involved with you. I wanted this weekend, that time, away. To think, to get my head back on straight. To refocus on my job, my future path. And…though I know you won't want to see it that way—putting yourself out there could be the best thing that's ever happened to you. Even if you don't find the perfect person, at least you'll be back in the mix and maybe realize what it is you truly do want.”

His control snapped. He tipped her chin up to his, knowing from the alarm that immediately crossed her face that his own expression was likely not a beautiful thing to behold at the moment. “Got it all neatly planned out, have you? You seem to have overlooked one very important, pertinent fact.” He lowered his face to hers. “I already know what I truly want.” And before he did something truly foolish, he stuck to his vow to give her whatever it was she wanted, released her, and got off the bed.

He stalked from the room, pacing the length of the living room, not daring to look back through the open doorway. He didn't need that particular image burned forever in his brain. Erin sprawled in his bed, her expression one of pain and apology.

He grabbed the duffel he'd packed earlier from its place on the floor. “Have the papers sent over. I'll sign whatever you want. I'll be out at Tristan's for the foreseeable future, so your filming can commence without me underfoot. Have a nice time in Inverness.” He did pause then, and he did look back. Erin was standing in the doorway to his bedroom. Perhaps not as painful an image as the one he'd been avoiding, but somehow it packed an equally powerful punch. Her face was pale, and all the life and effervescence he so naturally equated with her was nowhere to be seen. He refused to feel bad for being any part of that. They both had their own realities—and pain—to deal with.