The Great Scot (30 page)

She wanted to be back in Glenshire. With Dylan.

Only what in the hell would she do there?

She hadn't dared even let herself think about that when she had the chance.
Because you wanted it too damn bad.
Now? Now she couldn't stop thinking about it, about how she might have made it work if only she'd let herself even contemplate such a thing. Now that she'd gone and destroyed any chance she had even to try. But what would she have done if she'd stayed in Glenbuie? Seeing Dylan wasn't a full time job. She'd have gone crazy from boredom. It couldn't possibly have worked.

And yet the more she tried to convince herself of that, the more her brain kept circling around the puzzle, picking at it, refusing to let it go. Which was making her crazy since she couldn't damn well do anything about it now anyway. Even if she had a solution. Which she didn't. So why in the bloody hell couldn't she stop thinking about it and concentrate on her goddamn job instead?

She should be going over her location list, feeling the rush of being at a new site, getting to explore a part of the world she'd never seen before. Getting revved up over the thrill of the hunt for the perfect site—and then she went perfectly still as an idea popped into her mind. The conversation she'd had with Daisy played back through her mind, specifically the first part. God, had that only been yesterday?

Her mind was spinning now, and once hatched, the idea quickly took on a life of its own until she was digging through her satchel for a pen and paper to start taking down notes. Not that it mattered of course. She'd already blown it. But she couldn't seem to stop writing. In fact, it was only when the phone buzzed alerting her to the fact that her driver was there to take her to the
Anastasia
that she realized how much time had passed. She'd never even gotten a shower, much less changed her clothes. Or looked over her notes on the Proussalidis.

She looked down at the notes she had made…reams of them, in fact. And not one of them was about her meeting with Andrae Proussalidi. Not one of them about her job. Her current job, anyway.

She was torturing herself, doing this. But tell that to the excitement presently coursing through her. Along with a very healthy dose of solid fear. But fear meant she was rational, right? Fear meant she was actually thinking this through clearly. Only an idiot wouldn't be terrified out of her mind, considering the leap she was contemplating making.

The room phone buzzed again. The desk with another reminder. The Proussalidi driver was waiting.

She shoved her notes in her satchel and got up to look at herself in the mirror. She half-heartedly pushed at the matted wisps that passed for her current jet-lagged hairstyle, then shrugged. “Well, perhaps I won't have to work up the nerve to quit. Andrae will take one look at me and run screaming, then Tommy will fire me instead.”

She flipped open her suitcase, her heart threatening to pound straight through her chest wall, but not at the prospect of insulting the Proussalidi family with her less than professional appearance.
Was she really thinking of doing what she was thinking of doing?

And what if Dylan rejected her out of hand? She could hardly blame him. She'd been nothing if not completely inconsistent with him, and topped it off by insulting his sincerely expressed commitment to wanting a relationship with her by asking him to throw himself at twelve other women. “Could you be any more of a complete idiot?”

She swore as she frantically dug through her suitcase, but everything in it was more horribly wrinkled than the trousers and cotton shirt she was already wearing and there was no time to fire up the iron. She made a half-assed attempt to fluff her hair, dabbed at the smudges beneath her eyes from total lack of sleep since leaving Glenbuie, then hastily grabbed some shorts and a T-shirt from her suitcase and stuffed them in her satchel. She could beg a delayed flight and appeal to the generosity of her host and perhaps he'd allow her to change clothes and freshen up on board. It was the best game plan she could come up with and she let herself out of the room before she could second guess herself any further.

If only she'd shown a fraction of that courage with Dylan. But the more she thought about her plan, her germ of an idea, the harder her heart pounded. Not only in fear. Yes, he could totally throw her offer straight back in her face. But now, now she had to try. “Nothing like making it as hard on yourself as possible,” she muttered. So what else was new? But maybe she'd had to leave him to realize what she was giving up. And hell, she hadn't even lasted a day before she was scrambling for some way, any way, to make things work so she could go back, so she could stay. That had to count for something, right?

Maybe he'd understand that she just had to figure things out in her own screwed up way, but that now she knew. Now she understood what he meant about regretting not trying more than regretting failing. She already didn't have him. So what did she have to lose now? Her heart dropped further and she forced herself not to think that way, not to get discouraged. He had to give her another chance. Didn't he?

Sorely distracted by her internal debate, she barely nodded at the driver the hotel concierge pointed out to her, and climbed in the back of the sleek black limo that sat idling curbside, waiting for her. She thought it was a shame that she couldn't really enjoy the luxury, and absently wished she'd been able to send Dana in her place. She smiled a little at that. Dana said she wanted to be Erin when she grew up? Well, she was going to get her chance sooner than she thought.

Mind still reeling with a jumble of thoughts, ideas, and plans, she dug through her bag for her pad and pen and continued to jot down notes. It was only when the limo took a rather steep turn that she glanced up from her plotting…and noticed they were not heading toward the water. In fact, when she swiveled around, she couldn't see the water at all. She leaned forward and rapped on the glass partition. “Shouldn't we be heading toward the sea?” she shouted, looking around for the button that would lower the privacy screen.

Her driver didn't turn around, but a speaker crackled to life and a deep voice filled the back seat area. “Relax, mum. We'll arrive at our destination shortly.”

Well, she thought, settling back in her seat, her attention already drawn half back to her notes. Maybe they had to go down the coast a bit to the Proussalidis' yacht club or something. She really hadn't thought to ask exactly where the
Anastasia
was moored, and given the number of boats she'd seen dotting the Aegean Sea, it could be miles from the hotel.

She'd picked up her pen and was tapping it on the pad of paper, when the driver's words echoed in her mind.
Mum?

Her gaze flew to the privacy screen, but all she could see were a pair of broad shoulders and the back of a dark driver's cap. She supposed it wasn't unheard of that her driver could be British. Actually, he'd sounded like a Scot.

Erin sighed and pressed a hand against her stomach. She was obviously just projecting her terror over what might happen when she went back. Her stomach was in knots, just thinking about what she would say to him. She forced her attention back to her note pad and turned to a clean sheet. She still had a job to do, and she needed to formulate a plan of attack for the afternoon. She'd never been so unprepared.

Tapping her pen on the paper, she had the oddest urge to tap on the glass partition again. She just wanted to hear him speak. It made no sense, but it was like she needed to hear that familiar accent. It grounded her in a way, reminded her of…She cut off that thought. Of course it reminded her of Dylan, but the first word that had come to mind was home. She missed him, but she missed Glenbuie, too. She missed the village, the people she'd come to know. She'd never felt so embraced before and now, being back out here on her own again, it made her feel a little more…bereft.

She flipped the pages back, skimmed over the notes upon notes she'd made, and her adrenaline punched in again. Could she really do this? What would Daisy think? And what about Dylan? Would he be able to trust her? Trust that she wouldn't change her mind, that once decided on a course of action, she was as committed as he was?

A million thoughts were still running through her mind and she'd yet to make one note about her meeting with Andrae, when the limo turned up a wide, curving driveway. Erin looked out the window. They were up in the hills now. If she looked out the back window, she could see through the trees and buildings scattered in staggered relief below to a hint of the sparkling sea beyond. But unless the Proussalidis had a really, really big backyard pool, they were definitely nowhere near a yacht club, much less a yacht.

The house that came into view was stunning, but more villa than mansion. Small and tasteful, and very private. Tommy had said Andrae was a renowned playboy. Perhaps he'd thought to entertain Erin in a more intimate setting? She sighed and slumped back a little in her seat, suddenly a bit more content with the fact that she hadn't wasted time figuring out how she was going to impress the young billionaire-to-be. If this was what she thought it was, he'd be lucky to escape without a knee to the groin. She only hoped Tommy wouldn't lose his job, too. If he thought that just because she'd developed a close relationship with Dylan, that she had a different set of standards when it came to being “convincing,” well then Andrae and Tommy were about to get a whole new understanding of Erin's personal code of conduct.

Getting more incensed by the minute, she shoved her notepad back in her bag, took a deep breath, and set her shoulders squarely. She always went into these things prepared for battle. Just not of this particular kind. “Ah well, what a way to go out, huh?” she murmured, and reached for the door before the driver could come around. He looked to be a big guy, she thought, tugging on the handle, maybe she should ask him to accompany her inside. Just in case.

The door opened from the outside and she climbed out, only to have the driver block her from moving forward. She stepped to the side, but he didn't move so she was forced to shade her eyes against the sun and look up into his face. “Excuse me, but—”

He pulled off his hat. “Hullo, Erin.”

Erin blinked against the sun spots that had obviously impaired her vision. Either that or it was true that if you wished for something badly enough, you really could make it appear in front of you. “Dylan?”

“A
ye. Dinnae be angry with me, but I—”

“Angry? What are you doing here? You're in Greece.”

He'd never been more terrified in his life, and yet she managed to make his lips twitch. “Aye, I still recall the flight. That last leg was a wee bit bumpy for my tastes, but then I'm no' much of a flyer.”

“But…how?”

“I booked a ticket, just like everyone else.”

“Dylan—”

He took a deep breath and began the hardest conversation of his life. “I went to Inverness. Just missed you.” Och, but he missed her. It hadn't even been much more than twenty-four hours and it felt like a bleedin' lifetime. But then he hadn't known if or when he'd ever see her again.

“So…you followed me all the way to Greece? And what's with the driver's uniform? Why didn't you just contact me at the hotel?”

“It was sort of a last minute inspiration,” he said, his cheeks warming. He still didn't know quite what had come over him. “I—I got your itinerary and made it to the hotel—”

“Wait, got my itinerary from…?”

He ducked his chin. “I'd rather not put anyone else on your hunting list. Suffice to say, they only had your best interests—”

“
They?
”

He was handling this quite badly. But then, he'd never been compelled to fly halfway across Europe after the woman of his heart. “I made it to your hotel and was planning to ring you, then I saw the Proussalidis' driver, and—”

“Wait, so you're not driving for them? What am I saying, of course you're not.” She looked past him at the villa. “So whose…?” She waved her hand in the general direction of the house.

“I saw the driver, realized you were on your way out to the yacht, and I…well, I guess I kind of panicked.” He half laughed, though it came out as more of a gargle. Why in bloody hell had he talked himself into doing such a crazed stunt as this? She had to think he was daft. Hell,
he
thought he was daft.

“You. Panicked,” she said, deadpan, or in complete disbelief.

He crushed the driver's cap in his hands. “I—I sort of pretended to be your assistant and told him you'd come down with a dreadful stomach ailment on the flight over. I suspect you'll return to your hotel later to find a very expensive floral bouquet or perhaps a gift basket, or both. I told them you'd be in touch as soon as you were feeling better.”

“Wait, you sabotaged my meeting with Andrae?”

He felt a little tic pulse in his temple, just hearing her say his name. He'd never once in his life, not ever, felt so much as a twinge of jealousy. But the very idea of her jet-setting off with another man, not to mention one due to inherit billions, even if it was work related…“Let's say I just…delayed it. Slightly.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I should add, you might want to do a bit of research on the chap. I think perhaps he tries a bit too hard to establish himself as a fan of the lassies, if you know what I mean. I believe his interest in appearing on your program is so he can convince dear old dad of his, shall we say, viability.”

“Are you saying Andrae Proussalidi is—?” She waved a hand. “Never mind. I don't care about him at the moment. At the moment I want to know why you followed me all the way to Greece. And where did you get the uniform? And the car for that matter? Are you even licensed to drive here? You're supposed to be in Scotland.”

She was babbling. She never babbled. It gave him the first toehold on a ladder of hope.

“Fear is a great motivator,” he said, in way of explaining his brief change in occupation. “As to the mother land, I'm no' umbilically attached, you know. I am allowed to leave the place. Long as I head back in due time. At the moment, I am quite free of it, as a band of very loud, very, shall we say, determined ladies have invaded my home.”

“But the expense of flying, Glenshire, you should—”

“Sometimes the risky investment is recommended. I considered this an investment in hope. Something I thought I could stand to put a wee bit more faith in myself.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She didn't look exactly angry, nor did she appear overjoyed to see him, mostly she appeared stunned. He could have told her it was a feeling he shared. No one was more surprised than he to be standing in this exact spot, dressed as he was. Hoping with all his heart it was worth the potential humiliation, already knowing he'd have done far more if it meant getting her to listen to him one last time. Tristan was right. Pride was the first thing you swallow.

“So…the villa? I'm guessing not the Proussalidis' either? Are we trespassing? Why not just talk to me?”

“Well, there is investing in hope, and there is banking the odds in your favor. I wasn't planning on any of it. Except the villa. That I did plan. As a back up. Of sorts. I wanted—needed…I didn't want you on Tommy's or your network's ground, so to speak. I wanted someplace neutral.”

“There are other hotels in Mykonos.”

“I know. My brother, Tristan, is engaged to—”

“Bree Sullivan, the famous author, I know.” Her eyes widened. “This is hers?”

“No, but a friend of a friend. She thought it might—”

“Wait.” Erin put up her hand. “Bree knows you're here? Someone else gave you my itinerary. Not Dana, because she didn't know until a few hours ago, so—” She must have spied something in his expression. “Dana?”

“No' about Greece, but Inverness…I do confess.”

“And Tristan. And…who else?”

“Pretty much the entire village,” he said, and surprised himself by the pride he took in saying so. “They want what's best for me, and I think they agree what's best for me is you. I've come to realize how fortunate I truly am to have so many people around with my best interests at heart. I'm more blessed than I ever allowed myself to believe.” He dared step a bit closer. “They've come to care for ye, too, Erin. The lot of them. You've made quite the impact on the folk of Glenbuie. But none so much as myself.”

He finally put the twisted drivers' cap out of its misery and tossed it on the roof of the car so he could reach for her. He tentatively took hold of her arms and slid down to join his hands with hers. “When word came that I was released from my promise to you, about appearing on the program, and I knew you'd well and truly be leaving me, leaving Scotland, for good…I was already on my way to Inverness. I couldnae let you go without taking one last chance to talk to you, to see if there was a way, any way, to convince you to give us, give me, a chance.” He drew their joined hands up between them. “I kept thinking of the way you looked at me. It's no' only a physical thing with us. You have to know that, too. And I'm well aware what it is I'm asking. And that despite the villa and my jet setting off after you, I am a man of modest means, saddled with enormous responsibility, and tied irrevocably to my homeland and my people. I canno' compete with the life of adventure you lead. But…I'd humbly like to say that—”

She interrupted his stumbling speech by placing her fingers across his lips. He had to fight the urge to grab hold of them, press them against his lips, and keep them there.

“Dylan…” she started, then stopped. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again, and he could scarcely believe what he thought he saw in their sparkling green depths. Fear, yes. Desire, certainly. And, if he was perhaps the luckiest man alive, that elusive spark of hope. “I haven't stopped thinking about you from the moment I drove away from Glenshire. I've rejected, out of hand, and out of fear, perhaps one of the best things that's ever happened to me. It's…it's hard not to cling to what I know, to what I've built for myself. Only I realized, with perhaps the help of people who do care about me, that maybe I've done that at the expense of allowing myself any real freedom. For someone who considers the world her oyster, I'm somewhat trapped by my own circumstance, in a life that must be lived solo.

“I've been solo pretty much since day one. So I clung to a life that suited that, where I'd never have to trust in someone else not to abandon me, or the world we created together. It's why I never allowed myself to be adopted. Better to be self-reliant, then you always know where you stand. And I like this life, yes. I'm lucky, very lucky, to have had the chance to see the world, to do what I do. But I've never really let myself think about what I might want beyond that life. A life lived exclusively for work, devoid of putting down any real kind of roots. Where you have to learn to trust, both in those around you, to want to keep you there…and in your own ability to want it badly enough to stay. Long term. Forever, even. It's not that I have to travel, it's merely the thing I do. I know there's more to the world than traveling through it. And…and…” Her voice was a little shaky at that point, and her eyes grew a bit glassy.

Dylan was fairly certain his heart had stopped somewhere during her little speech. Was she truly working up to saying what he, in his wildest hopes, hadn't dared to allow himself to believe she might say? “Erin, I'll ask no promises of ye. I know it would mean an absence from your work, and I'm no' certain what that would mean, in your ability to go back to it at some later time, but—”

“I—I spent most of my trip here, and all of the afternoon, working on a plan. It's why I looked like I just rolled out of my suitcase. I was supposed to be researching Andrae.” She paused. “Is he really…you know?”

Dylan lifted a shoulder. He shouldn't have stooped so low, but he was a desperate man. “A plan?” he prompted.

“Yes, a plan. For me. I—I needed to know, to have some kind of idea, of what I would do, you know…were I to stay and…see.”

“And see.”

She nodded, then swallowed hard. “Yes,” she said, lifting her gaze to his. “And see. I know I'd need a purpose, beyond just discovering what I might have with…with you.”

Suddenly his heart, which couldn't have been beating at all, thundered to life. He had to work very hard not to squeeze the life out of her hands, still held in his own. “And…?” he choked out.

“Daisy was the one, actually, who gave me the seed of an idea.”

“Daisy?”

Erin nodded. “I think she'll support it. She…she wants you to be happy, and I think if she thinks I might be a part of that, she'd help me—”

“I'm certain she will,” he said, believing it, even though he had no idea what she was talking about.

“I thought maybe I'd put my talents to use as an excursion coordinator. For the bed and breakfast mainly, but maybe also set up shop in the village. A tourist center and day trip sort of thing. The show will bring people to the village, and if Daisy and I promote it properly, I think I can turn it into a business. I know I can boost the revenue for Glenshire at the very least, and—”

“So…are ye comin' back wi' me, then?” he blurted, unable to hold his tongue another second. “My heart's about to pound out of my chest and—”

Her smile was slow, but certain. Her shining eyes held his as she blinked away a bit of sheen glossing them over. And then she nodded. “Aye. That was my plan. As soon as I took care of business here, I was going to come back. If you'll have me. I'm not an easy woman, Dylan. And I have no idea how I'll handle—”

The rest was cut off with a fierce hug.

He spun her around and around, making her squeal, then scooped her up in his arms as they both laughed like loons and turned blindly toward the villa. “If we're going to start something, we're going tae start it properly,” he said, groping above the ledge of the door for the key and finding it where it was promised to be.

“I can walk,” she started.

“Aye, but ye feel too damn good in my arms.” He pushed the door open and had a brief vision of a sunshine-filled room accented in lemon yellow and navy blue tile, and filled with white furniture. At the moment, nothing could compete with the vision in his arms. “Indulge me,” he told her, as he strode through the small villa, finding the stairs, and climbing upward to where he'd been told the master suite awaited.

She looped her arms around his neck. “I'm noticing a pattern.”

“Complaining?”

She pressed her lips against the side of his neck. “No,” she said with a deep, heartfelt sigh, punctuating the word with another kiss. “Not at all.” She teased her way along his jaw until he thought he'd go mad not to have her mouth under his.

Two doors he tried, then three. Discovering a closet, an office and a bathroom. “Dammit, where is the bloody bedroom?”

Erin was taking full advantage of his fruitless search. She ran her fingertips up the back of his neck, toyed with his hair, and bit his chin. “Dylan,” she murmured against his ear.

And just like that he turned her toward the nearest stretch of wall and pinned her tightly between it and his body. She wrapped her legs around his hips and he buried himself fully there, making them both gasp in pleasure as he captured her mouth and plundered it deeply.