The Great Scot (29 page)

Fantasy time was over.

“I'm sorry,” she managed.

“Aye, we're both a sorry lot, aren't we?” And with that he strode out.

 

“I really dinna want to talk of it, Tris,” Dylan informed his youngest brother, who, despite his ready hospitality, was already getting on his last nerve. Perhaps he should have thought twice before deciding to hide out in the midst of his brother's besotted bliss with Bree Sullivan, the absolute love of his life. “I appreciate the use of the room. I think I'll take Jinty here and head out for a walk. Any strays need rounding up?”

Tristan cocked his head. “You, go for a walk?”

Dylan gave the look right back to him. “I've been known to do that on occasion.” He shoved out of the kitchen chair and rinsed out the tankard of ale he'd been brooding over for the past half hour.

Tristan's smile was as unabashed as any of his brothers' would be. Clearly they weren't nearly intimidated enough by the fact that he was the eldest and de facto clan chief. Privately, he realized he didn't mind so much. It was far, far better than the eggshells everyone had been tiptoeing on when he'd first arrived back on clan soil.

“I believe ye were about sixteen the last time ye went herding,” Tristan recalled. “Annoyed as all hell when Grandpa Finny made ye take me along.”

“You always were one for the hillocks. You and your sketch pad and your dreamy vacancy. Couldn't even muster up a decent conversation.”

“Well, in my defense, I was, what, eight? I don't believe I got into deep philosophy until at least reaching my prime at ten or eleven.”

Dylan found himself fighting a smile. He shoved the chair back and slapped his thigh, calling Tristan's sheepdog to his side. He didn't want to smile, didn't want to feel warmth. He needed the cold, sobering chill of silence right now. “Come on, Jint. Let's get out of here for a bit.” He was at the door, looking forward to sorting through his thoughts with nothing but green hills and cloudy skies to contend with, but found himself turning back, and putting to voice the question that had been nagging at him since his arrival. “How did you know?” he asked.

“Know what?”

“About Bree. It was sudden for you.”

If Tristan was surprised by the question, he didn't show it. Nor did he look smug at the apparent capitulation. “It was rather sudden for Reese, too, and Daisy—”

Dylan waved a hand. “Daisy might be a transplanted Yank, but she hadn't been here six months before making a bigger mark on this village than her great-aunt did in six decades. Besides, she was here to stay when they met. And Brodie has known Kat his whole life. But you…Bree landed here by accident.”

Tristan grinned. “Literally, I know.” Then his grin tempered a bit, but he asked his question anyway. “How did you know with Maribel? It was a short engagement.”

For all he'd proclaimed to be thankful no one dredged up his past, he discovered he was relieved, to some degree, that Tristan felt they'd all come far enough so that he could talk about his past marriage without fear of treading on painful ground. “I was a lad, with foolish ideals, so certain what it was I wanted. I don't think I'll ever know if I fell in love with Maribel for Maribel herself, or for all she represented. So, I ask again, how did you know? She wasn't from here, was likely not to stay here.”

Tristan propped his hip against the kitchen table and rolled his tankard of ale between his palms. “You just know. And it didn't matter what her plans were, or mine. It wasn't a planned reaction, neither of us were looking, or even thinking about such a thing. I guess what it came down to was knowing that, after having her here, under my roof for such a short time, I already couldn't imagine the house without her in it.” He took a sip, considered for a moment, then caught Dylan's gaze squarely. “Is that how it is with your Yank?”

Caught dead to rights, and considering his own probing, he couldn't dodge the question this time. He let out a short sigh. “Aye. I believe so.”

Tristan's grin was instant and quite exultant. “Well, what in the hell are ye doin' out here, man? Go and get her!”

Dylan swore under his breath. “Dinna ye think I'd be doing just that if I thought she'd have me?”

“Turned ye down flat, did she? Perhaps I'll have to find my way into the village after all. Meet this paragon of virtue who can resist the Great Scot.”

Dylan swore. “Stop that, will ye?”

“You undersell yourself.” Then Tristan turned serious. “So why is it, ye think, that she's no' interested? Is it the complication of having a job and a life an ocean away? Or is it your grumpy and dour demeanor?”

Dylan just shot him a look. “Glad you find this all so very amusing.” But his shoulders slumped as he sank against the door frame. Jinty, taking the cue, sighed and settled herself at Dylan's feet. “I canno' believe she doesnae feel what I do. It's there in her eyes, Tris. And she's all but admitted her feelings run strong. But, aye, her life and her path take her elsewhere. And I'm committed here, with no plans to go running off again. Not even for this.”

Tristan's eyes widened at that last part. “But you say if it weren't for that, ye might?”

“Dinna ye worry, I'm done with my selfish pursuit of—”

He waved his hand. “No, no, I know that. I was gauging your feelings, is all. And given your dedication to Glenshire, to all the village, that's saying something.” He put his ale down and stepped closer. “So what can we do to help?”

“We?”

Tristan nodded. “Me, Bree, all of us. We're family, Dylan. We'll do whatever—”

He shook his head. “I appreciate the offer. I do.” And he found he meant it. Instead of being alarmed or annoyed at the proposed interference, as he typically would have been, he was truly touched. Not that he'd ever doubted his family's loyalty. They'd always been there for each other, but this was immediate and un-questioning, and that meant something to him. “It's no' something I can change, I'm afraid. I canno' make her want me enough to take such a leap of faith.”

“Life offers no promises, but there is always the promise of hope.”

Dylan smiled faintly. “No one knows that better than she does. Life hasn't handed her too many promises. She's made her own way and she's attached to the security of her independence. I can't promise her anything better.”

“Aye, but you can. You're a loyal man, dedicated. Surely she sees that. She'd be gaining so much and giving up so little, to my way of thinking.”

“I'm no' so sure of that. If we were to pursue this and fail, for me, life would continue on much as before, albeit a great deal more dimly. For her, there would be no going back to what was, but having to forge something all new, all over again. I'd never forgive myself if she'd felt coerced into being with me in the first place. I canno' fight against her unwillingness to take the risk, as I appreciate and understand it. Especially as I canno' make the same sacrifice for her.”

Tristan sighed deeply as well. “'Tis a fair shame then. I've no' heard you speak with such passion since…well, to be honest, since you left here and headed off to university. And I was a wee lad then. Perhaps then you were runnin' away as much as runnin' toward something, and that passion was bound in the thrill of the unknown. So it speaks doubly that you sound as you do, a man full grown, with the lessons of life having left their mark upon you.”

Dylan did smile then. “You might have been a late bloomer, Tris, but ye've got the philosophic bent now, that ye do.”

Tristan smiled as well, and a handsome color flushed his cheeks at his brother's teasing praise. “I'm just a fool in love and I want everyone to be as ridiculously foolish so I feel less conspicuous with it.” He sobered a bit, and added. “And I hate to see you sit idly by with no way to fight for what ye want.”

“I tried all I knew to do. I don't know what else there is but to let her have her way. I've put on more pressure than I should have, in hopes of wearing down her defenses. Instead, I think I only pushed her to reinforce them as rapidly as she could.”

“How much longer is she here?”

“She's off to Inverness for the weekend. We were to go together, but—”

“So go, anyway.”

“No, she specifically asked that I not. She wanted the time apart.”

“That she needed the time away from you in order to garner her defenses against what she feels for you is proof that she's not at ease with her decision, either.”

“Perhaps. But it's all for naught anyway. I've given her my word on another matter that more or less puts a stop to things all together.”

“What matter?”

“They're looking to set their next season here in Scotland as well, and—”

“So she'll be staying on, then? Brilliant! You'll have more time with—”

Dylan shook his head. “No, ye see, her boss is pushing her for a specific site and person to fill the role, and her job more or less depended on it. She was going to Inverness initially to find a location for this current season, and to find a leading man for the next. Only now she won't have to.”

Tristan looked confused for a second, then the light dawned and he groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “Tell me ye didna do what I think ye did?”

Dylan couldn't even hold his gaze. He'd be a laughingstock with his brothers at the very least. Och, well, there was naught to be done for it now. “Aye, but I did. I thought to force her hand, make her realize that perhaps there was more between us than she'd allow herself to admit. I delivered an ultimatum of sorts.”

Tristan swore. “What the hell is wrong wi' ye?” He dropped down into the kitchen chair and kicked his legs out in front of him, appearing to be torn between swearing…and laughing. “Och, you're well and truly in the deep end of it now. But in case ye were still wonderin', to go and do something like that is proof positive your heart is no longer your own.”

Dylan trudged across the room and dropped heavily back into his chair, downing the dregs of his brother's ale in one swallow. “I have no earthly idea what I was thinking. I should have just shut the door in her face the day we first met.”

“Dylan Chisholm, the next American heartthrob.” A snicker finally escaped him.

Dylan scowled at him. “Don't start.”

“Reese and Brodie—”

“I said, don't start.”

But it was simply too delicious a topic. “The villagers, however, will probably throw you a feast and a parade. Will they cast any Scottish women, or all Americans?”

“I haven't a clue, nor do I care,” Dylan stated flatly. “That's the least of my concerns at the moment.”

Tristan's shoulders shook and he finally dipped his chin and waved his hand apologetically. “I'm sorry, but I simply have to get it out of my system. I canno' see you doing it.”

“I gave my word.”

Perhaps it was the bit of despair he detected even in his own words that had Tristan lifting his gaze. “You haven't signed anything yet, have you?”

“No, but I promised.”

“I'm no' saying you should go back on your word. I'm just saying all is not lost as yet. Do you know where she went in Inverness? Where she's staying?”

He shook his head. “What of it, Tristan? I willnae continue to force my attentions where they aren't wanted.”

“Sounds like they're wanted almost too much if she has to run away from ye to keep from submitting to them. There must be someone who would know where she is.”

“Her assistant, Dana, likely knows, but you're not hearing me—”

“No, it's you who does not listen to me.” Tristan leaned across the table. “You've got years of life on me, and not all of them treated you kindly. All I know is that I'd do anything to keep what I have with Bree. It's worth that much. Erin's stay here on our bonny shores is brief, but she's no' gone yet. Dinnae waste that precious time. Fight for what you want, for what you think is possible. I mean, come on man, what have ye got to lose?”

Dylan laughed without humor. “To be rejected time and again by the same woman? I have been fighting. I do have some pride, ye know. I'd like to keep at least a wee bit of it intact.”

“Och, then ye can't be truly in love after all. Don't ye know pride is the first thing ye must swallow?”

“I think I've swallowed my fair share.” Dylan pushed back from the table and stood once again. Jinty lifted her head with renewed hope and let out a little whine.

“He won't be going for a walk with ye today, my faithful,” Tristan informed his four-legged companion. He stood as well and looked Dylan once more in the eye. “He has a drive to make.”

“Leave it be, Tristan,” Dylan told him.

But when he walked through the door, he didn't take the dog with him.

“Y
ou're in
Greece?
”

Erin held the phone away from her ear at Dana's shriek. “Yes, I am.”

“But you can't be in Greece,” she flatly insisted. “You have to be in Inverness.”

“I have to be where Tommy sends me. I'm guessing you haven't heard the latest.”

“I'm in Barbie Hell at the moment. I'm supposed to be an assistant to the location coordinator, but I'm spending all my time and considerable talents keeping this season's contestants from jumping the locals. You'd think these women had never heard an accent before.”

“Oh, like you didn't enjoy your Frenchman?”

“Fine, fine, but I was in Paris
working
. I wasn't there as a contestant hopeful to hook up with Prince Charming. I was a free agent. Or at the very least a reasonable one,” she added dryly. “But we're not talking about me. What's going on?”

“Short version is Tommy apparently pitched Dylan as our next Prince Charming to the network suits a few days ago—”

“Before he agreed to sign?”

“Tommy has faith, what can I say.”

“What if you'd gone through on the original plan to find a replacement and the suits were all gaga over Dylan?”

“I didn't know he was pitching him already. But it doesn't matter.”

“It matters to Dylan, I'm sure.”

Dana seemed rather incensed about the whole thing. More than Erin would have thought. “It's all moot, because the suits didn't go for him. Well, not Dylan per se, but the idea of shooting back-to-back episodes in Scotland didn't go over well, especially since this one hasn't even filmed yet, and apparently reports are leaking out about the wayward behavior of some of our ladies, and I use that term very loosely.”

“Loose is closer to being the key word there,” Dana said dryly. “I don't know what casting was snorting when they made this season's selections. Anyway, go on, go on.”

“So, a bit of panic apparently set in and they decided to play it safe rather than wait on how this season would pan out, then be stuck here if things didn't go as well as initially hoped for. Tommy left a message for me when I arrived in Inverness telling me he wanted me to let Dylan out of the agreement and grab a flight to Greece.”

“Why Greece? Or does that even matter, at this point?”

“It seems that one of the network execs has this contact via his wife's family or something, with some Greek shipping tycoon. Said tycoon has a very single son and heir who is apparently a big playboy—”

“Just what we need, a man who won't commit.”

“I have no idea what's what at this point, other than I'm supposed to meet him and see if we can get him interested. His mother is a big fan of the show or something. I don't know.”

“Since when did you become talent scout instead of location scout?”

“I'll be doing plenty of both, trust me. Who knows, I guess the work I did in getting Dylan and Glenshire upped my street cred or something.”

“So when did you leave Inverness?”

“I didn't even finish unpacking. I went straight to the airport. I got into Mykonos about an hour ago. I'm sorry I didn't have time to call you sooner. I figured someone had filled you in.”

“No, no. No one filled me in,” she said, her tone rather subdued now. “Although I really wish someone had.”

“Don't worry. I have all the contact information for Inverness. I was supposed to meet with the events coordinator at the hotel I checked into. It's perfect, trust me. It would be better to go there in person, but no way is Tommy sparing you now, so you'll have to do it via phone. I trust you.”

“No, it's not that. I mean, thanks, yes, I'll take care of it, it's…what did you tell Dylan?”

“I couldn't get ahold of him, so I—I left him a message. Don't worry, he really didn't want to sign on. He only did it because—never mind. Trust me, I'm sure he was relieved to hear his services won't be needed.”

“You just left a message? You didn't talk to him?”

Erin stared out of her hotel room at the stunning coastline of Mykonos and the white yachts bobbing in gorgeous blue water below. It was one of the most beautiful places she'd ever seen. And later today, she'd be out there on the water, in one of those yachts. Probably the biggest one.

So it made no sense, this feeling of abject loneliness that had dogged her since she'd gotten on the flight in Scotland. Normally she'd be thrilled to be away from the craziness of production getting under way, mercifully cast back out into the world to do what she did best.

“Erin?”

She dragged her attention back to the present. “It was probably for the best. We'd already said our goodbyes.” So to speak. Erin pressed her forehead against the warm glass. The sun felt good. It was the only thing that felt good at the moment.

“That's what you think,” Dana muttered.

At least that's what Erin thought she'd said. “Why are you suddenly so worried about Dylan?” Her conversation with Daisy came to mind, as it had during her entire drive to Inverness and the two flights it had taken to get to the island. Now Dana was being morose. “What was between us is done and now we'll move on. I mean, we already have. He was going to be our Prince Charming, for god's sake. That should tell you something.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone.

Erin straightened away from the window and turned her back on the dazzling scenery. She gripped the phone a little more tightly. “Is there something you're not telling me?”

“That he was willing to do that for you when he didn't want to should have told you all you needed to know.”

“What, that he was willing to force himself to submit to the very willing attentions of a dozen beautiful women? Please!”

“Come on, Erin. It's me, Dana, you're talking to. You know as well as I do that if such a private person as he was willing to go on national television with cameras following his every move and do anything with anyone, when the only person he really wants to be with—” She broke off and, for once, held her tongue.

“Dana,” Erin started, then paused, and finally blew out a long sigh. Dana was right, she wasn't used to having people care about her, and it was clear Dana was just trying to be a good friend. “And here I thought I was the closet romantic. The closet is getting pretty damn crowded.” She tried for dry amusement, but her suddenly tight throat betrayed her.

“I guess I thought…if you could have seen…he's just so…”

“Dana, I know you just want the perfect happy ending for me. But we're on two totally different paths. He's committed to his life in Glenbuie and my job takes me all over the place. I mean, yesterday I was in Scotland, today I'm standing in a hotel room on Mykonos.”

“But that's just it. It's just a job, Erin.”

Her eyes widened at that. “It's my life.”

“And what's wrong with that statement? I know you're very good at what you do, hell, I want to
be
you when I grow up. Only I plan on having a life along with my job.”

“Good luck with that in this business. And you know damn well why we do this. We get to see the world, do things that most people would kill to get to see or do.”

“We also get to work insane hours, get bitched at on a routine basis, and get jerked all over the globe on a moment's notice. It's exciting, sure, for a while. But then what? You want to be doing this when you're sixty? What about friends, family, falling in love?”

“My family is you guys.”

“I rest my case.” She tried for the joke, but given the direction of their conversation, it fell flat. “At some point don't you picture yourself more settled? Married? Or at least sharing your life with someone? When does that happen? I'm not saying you should be worried about it, you're young, but when something does come along like this, doesn't it at least make you think about your future?”

Erin didn't answer right away, so Dana plunged ahead.

“Your job is great, why do you think I want it? But, ultimately, it is what it is, it's not a springboard to something else. Once I'm you, that's it. It's such a great opportunity and now is the time for me to be footloose and fancy free, but eventually I'm going to want more from the life part of my life. I love the job, but I don't plan on doing it forever. I can't do it forever and have what I ultimately want, which isn't to grow old alone. Haven't you thought about that?”

No, Erin very purposely hadn't. And Dana was right, there was nowhere to go from her position, unless she wanted to shift gears completely and get into a different phase of production. But it was specifically the crazy hours, the constant change of scenery, the constant demands of her job, that she loved most. It kept her…occupied. And needed. But let her retain her precious independence.

“Dana, I appreciate that you care. I do,” she said, meaning it more than Dana could possibly know. “But I've got to get off here and do some research about this guy before I meet him later.

“Erin, there's something you need to know about—”

There was a knock at her hotel door. “Listen, I gotta run, someone's at the door. I'll send you all the contact info for the Inverness site and we'll catch up later, I promise.” She hung up and crossed the room, knowing she should feel guilty for putting Dana off, but she was in self-preservation mode at the moment. She would make it up to Dana later.

She opened the door to find a young, good-looking Greek hotel employee smiling at her with impossibly white teeth.

“
Kalimera
, Miss MacGregor. Message for you.” He proffered a creamy white envelope sporting a gold hotel seal.

Quite a change from the Glenbuie hotel, she thought, thanking him as she took the message. Very five star. But then the network was trying to impress a billionaire's son. And there was some matter of the wife of the executive also owning stock in this hotel. Bottom line, Erin was being put up in very posh digs for the duration of her stay, where she could wine and dine if necessary.

Tommy had even hinted that the Proussalidis might invite her to be a guest on their yacht for her stay in Greece, as well. Hard to complain about the working conditions when you were sitting on a multi-million dollar boat. She fished in her pocket and came up with a few euros and offered them to the bellman. “
Efharisto
,” she told him, using her entire knowledge of the Greek language, obtained on the way in from the airport from her driver.

“No problem,” he assured in heavily accented English.

This should have made her smile, she thought as she closed the door behind him. Instead, she couldn't help but think how much more she'd enjoyed the homey atmosphere at the hotel in Glenbuie. With Amelia and the cheerful skip in her step, almost admonishing Erin for wanting to tip her. Which reminded her, she had to contact the hotel and touch base with the manager and make sure she praised Amelia's job performance. She owed her that at the very least.

Erin wandered over to the low round table and fat, cushioned chairs arranged in front of the amazing floor-to-ceiling windows of her top floor suite, and sank into the nearest one as she flipped the envelope open. She scanned the short note. A driver from the Proussalidi family would be picking her up at five o'clock and she'd be dining aboard the
Anastasia
this evening.

She tossed the note down and leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
Who wouldn't love this job
? she asked herself. Dining with billionaires, staying in all the finest hotels. She was lucky. So very lucky.

“So why aren't I happy?” she asked the room at large. Hearing the question out loud only served to underscore her discontent, not dilute it.

Because the answer was swift and undeniable. She wasn't happy because she was sitting on this fabulous island alone. She'd always done her job alone and had been quite content with that setup. Now, a couple of jaunts with Dylan later, and suddenly she felt lonely without him? She forced herself to get up and shake off the ennui that had descended over her like a heavy cloak the minute she'd driven away from Glenshire yesterday. She'd get a shower, put on something fresh, and by the time the first round of drinks were served on board the
Anastasia
, she'd be back in the zone again.

But instead of rushing off to the shower, she picked up the invitation and fingered the edge of the heavy vellum cardstock, remembering the last note that was hand-delivered to her, inviting her on a midnight adventure to a pile of ancient rocks in the middle of nowhere. Shouldn't even compete with a multi-million dollar yacht.

She sighed and tossed the note back on the table. But it trumped it. Hands down. God, she missed him. She didn't want to be in stupid Greece, getting ready for a stupid meeting on a stupid yacht where she'd have to be on like a game show hostess on crack if she had a prayer of closing the deal for Tommy.