The Ruby Brooch (The Celtic Brooch Trilogy) (49 page)

“You should spend more time in the ICU. You get a break,” Kevin said, chuckling.

The laugh didn’t amuse Elliott. Although he was a large animal vet and had spent more hours than he could remember in animal hospitals, he hated people hospitals. The nauseous ICU smells stayed in his nostrils, and he couldn’t rid himself of the fear of a tube stuck in his dick. He rubbed his crotch, then booted up his laptop.

HOURS LATER, AS the aircraft neared Edinburgh, Kevin interrupted him. “We’re forty-five minutes from landing. Can I get you anything?”

“A shot,” Elliott said.

“Pull your pants down,” A needle filled with pain medication magically appeared in Kevin’s hand.

Elliott grimaced as the needle punctured his skin. “How do you always know what I need?”

“You pay me to know.” Kevin disposed of the needle. “You’ve got just enough time to wash up. I put your shaving kit and a change of clothes in the lavatory, and a shower sleeve for your leg is hanging on a hook by the door.”

Elliott scratched his whiskers. “I definitely need a shave.”

“Buzz me if you need anything else.”

He hobbled to the lavatory at the rear of the plane for a hot shower and shave, and thirty minutes later, he slipped into pressed khakis and navy polo shirt. As he secured his phone’s holster to his belt, he noticed an addition to the photomontage hanging on the wall—a glossy eight-by-ten of Wynonna Judd and his goddaughter, Kit MacKlenna. The photographer had snapped the picture during last year’s Kentucky Derby breakfast held at the mansion. The day had been stellar, especially the eleventh race when the farm’s three-year-old, Regal Now, won the first jewel of the Triple Crown.

God, he missed all of them—Kit, her parents Sean and Mary, and his father. He blew out a long breath, his shoulders sagged a little, and then he stiffened.
Seasons of grief don’t conform to expectations and automatically end after a certain length of time.
How many times had he heard his father say something similar? Too many to count.

“Can I bring you a cocktail?” Kevin asked as Elliott exited the lavatory.

“No. But would you put a bottle of the Bussiador in my suitcase for Louise?”

Kevin lifted an easy eyebrow. “She loves that chardonnay. If she ever decides to branch out, I’d recommend a Montgomery wine from the Napa Valley or a Barolo wine from Northern Italy.”

Elliott licked his lips in anticipation of tasting the forty-year-old Balvenie waiting for him in Louise’s library. “She’ll never understand scotch, not wine, is created by God’s kiss.”

“That’s an argument you’ll never win with her.”

“Hell Kev, I’ve never won that argument with any woman.” Elliott laughed. “If I ever find one who loves Scotland, horses, and scotch, I’ll rearrange a little corner of my life and squeeze her in.” His phone rang, wiping the anticipated taste of scotch from his lips. “Fraser.”

“It’s Allie.”

He heard a smile in his executive assistant’s voice, and he breathed easy.

“Galahad’s at the quarantine facility at LAX. Doc talked to the groom who traveled with him. He said Galahad passed manure and drank plenty of water during the flight, and he appeared fine when he got off the plane.”

Relief welled inside of Elliott. “Thanks. I’ll send Doc an email. Now, would you call Tex’s Charters to transport Galahad to Kentucky when he’s released?”

“That’s my next call, boss. I’ll let you know as soon as he’s home.”

Elliott disconnected the call and stared out into the clear night sky. Miles of scattered lights twinkled on the ground. The familiar punch of excitement hit him low and deep. His heather-covered Highland hills beckoned him home with an offer of sweet refreshment. Now that his horse was safe, he could put the stress of high-stakes Thoroughbred breeding and racing aside for a few days.

The aircraft shuddered as the pilot extended the landing gear and it locked in place.

“When are you driving up to Fraser House?” Elliott asked.

“Since you don’t need me tonight, I’ll stay at the hotel with the rest of the crew and drive up early tomorrow. But I’d like to come back for some of the Hogmanay events.”

“That’s a New Year’s Eve celebration you don’t want to miss. We’ll work it out.”

The wheels bumped against the runway. The engines roared as the captain reversed thrust and applied the brakes, slowing the plane. The pilot then taxied the aircraft to its private hangar and parked.

Kevin gazed out the window. “There’s David’s limo. Looks like he’s got someone with him.”

Elliott holstered his cell phone. “His sister?”

“I’ve never met his sisters,” Kevin said with a little note of disappointment in his voice. “I heard what David did in Afghanistan. He’s some kind of hero.”

“Yeah, but don’t tell him.” Elliott unbuckled his seatbelt and glanced out the window. “That’s the customs officer in the car.” Elliott stuck his head into the cockpit as he prepared to deplane. “Merry Christmas, lads.”

“Merry Christmas, Dr. Fraser,” the captain said. “The cockpit crew is staying in Edinburgh. We can leave within an hour or two if you need to change your plans.”

“Let’s hope there’s no emergency. I’ll see you on the first.”

Elliott cleared customs and thirty minutes later, David drove the limo under the porte-cochere of Louise’s B&B. Elliott smiled when he spotted her at the door. “Did you call Lou to let her know the plane landed? She’s usually not up this late.”

“She asked me to let her know,” David said.

Elliott crossed the cobbled drive, gritting his teeth with each swing of the crutches. He tightened his grip as he approached the three steps leading to the door. Thank God the house had a lift inside, or he’d never make it to his suite on the second floor.

Louise welcomed him with a big smile and a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a handsome devil, Elliott Fraser. You look better than you did when I met you way back in college.”

“What? I thought twenty was my best year.”

David entered the house with luggage under each arm. “You got him in the same room, Miss Louise?”

“Yes, and I left the door unlocked.” She glanced outside. “Where’s Kevin?”

“He’s staying with the crew. I think they had late night plans,” Elliott said.

David disappeared up the wide, sweeping stairs instead of taking the elevator and returned a couple of minutes later. “If you need me, send a text. I’m staying at my sister’s house.”

“You’ve got one in every city in Scotland.”

“All but a few.” David grinned. “Is Kevin renting a car to drive to Inverness tomorrow?”

“He wants to do some sightseeing. You’d think he’d never been here before.”

David’s square-jawed face tightened; a telling gesture from a man who rarely gave away anything. “I know exactly what the lad’s up to. He met a graduate student at the University of Edinburgh last time he was in town.”

“Keep him out of trouble, will you?” Elliott said.

“I’d have to lock him up.” David tipped his cap to Louise and left the B&B.

“Come into the library,” she said. “The fire’s blazing, your scotch is waiting, and Handel is playing on our new home theater system.”

Elliot arched his brow. “You weren’t supposed to open my present until Christmas.”

“Have you ever known me to wait?”

“Never. I hope you like it.”

“Are you kidding? We love it.”

They entered a room lined with bookshelves crammed with leather-bound classics. “You painted the shelves. I like the white woodwork.”

“Evelyn insisted.”

He noticed the placement of the speakers: center, right, and left, and each produced sharp, clear sounds. “Your installer has a good ear.”

“And look,” she patted her hand against the tufted detail on the back of a brown bonded-leather chair. “I got it just for you.”

“But I liked the old one,” he grumbled, but when he sank into the cushions and rested his legs on a matching ottoman, he closed his eyes and let his breath go in a long sigh. The music and memories ensnared him. In this room, he would always hear the echo of his father and Sean MacKlenna’s voices rising to a clamor over the merits of beautiful horses and fast women—bloodlines and lovers. Although as volatile as the other two, Elliott rarely joined the ruffle. He much preferred to sit back and toss kindling onto their disagreements, which would continue until they drained a bottle or two of scotch and their cigars died in peace.

Louise held out a drink for him and gave him a pointed look. “Don’t get maudlin on me.”

Elliott took the glass and stared at the golden-hued liquid, praying it would placate the pain. “This is the Balvenie, isn’t it?”

She gave him a one-sided smile. “Would I give you anything else?”

He covered the top of the glass with his hand and swirled the liquid, agitating the rich mahogany to release more of the maple-and-toffee scent. Then he brought the crystal to his lips and kissed the scotch. “Ah.” His tongue picked up the honeyed taste, and he sighed again.
“Slainte mhath.”

The rocking chair creaked as Louise nestled into the deep-seat next to him and raised her glass. “
Slainte mhath.”
She sipped her wine. “Speaking of health, what’d your doctor say? Is this the last surgery?”

“The surgeon who did the implant and graft is tops in his field, so we’ll see.”

“If you’d listen to your medical team and go to counseling, you might heal this time.”

He pointed his glass at her. “Don’t start on me, Lou.”

She narrowed her eyes and tapped her fingers against the crystal goblet. “It’s been five years since your leg was butchered.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He gulped his drink, then said, “So tell me about Evelyn?”

Her eyes widened immediately, and the same girlish smile he’d first noticed so many years earlier eased across her face. “We just celebrated twenty-five years together.”

He grinned. “And you thought it wouldn’t last.”

“I wish you’d find someone you could be happy with for longer than six weeks. You’re not getting any younger.”

“That’s your second reference to my age and I’ve only been here—” he glanced at his watch— “fifteen minutes.”

“I worry about you, especially now that the MacKlennas and your father are gone. I don’t want you growing old alone.”

Elliott sipped the scotch. The liquid slid down his throat, warming him like a twill-weave plaid of fire. “I’ve got close to a hundred people on the farm. I’m never alone.”

“And those people hustle home at the end of the day to their families.” She cocked her head and studied him with troubled eyes. “Who’s at MacKlenna Mansion waiting for you?”

He gave a tight shrug or was it a flinch? “Tate and Tabor.”

She set her glass down and folded her arms across her chest. “They’re wonderful pets and very devoted. But I’m talking about a companion you can have a conversation with, not a golden retriever and a Maine Coon cat.” Her concerned gaze spilled over him, and he glanced away. “Sean found a wife who understood the farm and its demands. So can you.”

“He was a young man when he met Mary.”

“You need to be open to love. I’m not sure you are.”

“Shush.”

“Don’t you shush me, Elliott Fraser.” She cupped her cheek in her hand. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you? I’m talking about love, not sex, and not one of your Thursday or Saturday night dates either. Someone who isn’t an option but a priority in your life.”

“You’re being a wee grippie tonight. Go to bed.”

“The truth hurts, doesn’t it? You’re just too self-oriented, but I love you anyway. ”

“Are you taking a psychology course now? Crap, Louise. Go back to astrology.” The stereo remote sat on the table between them. He pushed the up arrow on the volume, filling the room with the sounds of a string quartet now playing a Haydn composition. He didn’t know which one and didn’t really care.

Louise turned the volume down and moved the remote out of his reach. “It’s going to be a quiet holiday. I only have one guest staying through the Hogmanay—a woman from America.”

He finished his drink and frowned at the empty glass, but he was relieved she’d changed the subject. “Must have family here?”

“The travel agent who booked the room said she was coming to do genealogy research.”

“I bet she’s wears granny shoes, has gray helmet-hair, a face full of wrinkles with large cheeks, and a bit of wobbly skin below her chin.”

“You’re incorrigible. Please be nice to my guest?”

He shrugged. “I’ll be gone by the time she gets here.”

Louise glanced at the clock on the chimneypiece. “Not unless you’re leaving within the hour.”

“C’est la vie.”

“You could go to the archives with her and solve that 18
th
century Fraser mystery your grandfather always talked about.”

“Which one? The son born on the wrong side of the sheets?”

Louise nodded.

“If I wasn’t leaving Edinburgh tomorrow, I’d tag along.” He scrunched his brow. “I wonder why she’s traveling alone. Holidays are for families.”

Louise nearly choked on her drink.

He rubbed her back as she coughed and watched her closely until the high color faded from her face. “Are you okay?”

“Did you hear what you just said?”

“What? That holidays are for families?”

“And that’s why you’re going to Fraser House, so you can celebrate by yourself?”

“Hell, Lou. I wasn’t talking about me.” He withdrew his hand from her back but gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Oh.
So you don’t deserve to be with people you love and who love you.”

He said nothing, letting the moment slip by with only the sound of the snapping logs. Finally, he said, “It’s too late for me. I’m an old—”

She slapped her hand over his mouth. “Stop talking about age.”

“Then get me another drink. I’ll need it—” Her hand muffled his voice. “—if I’m going to be nice to your granny-shoe-wearing guest.”

MEREDITH LANDED AT Edinburgh airport close to midnight. Shortly before 1:00, her driver pulled under the porte-cochere at Louise’s B&B on Great King Street in the city’s New Town section. She stifled a yawn as she crossed the cobbled drive, hoping for a well-kept establishment, a quick welcome, and the key to her room. That all changed when she entered through the front door and draped her coat across the arm of a Chippendale claw-and-ball settee.