HighlandHeat

by Tilly Greene

  Silence followed Hamish’s request. It was difficult for Alain to agree with his cousin. Everyone, including himself, knew he was usually the voice of reason between the two of them and there was nothing rational coming from the other man. Right now, his cousin was all raw emotions. The man was like a hot-blooded ram and not everyone could handle something so far removed from reality.

  However, at this point in time there was only one thing that was important. Through all the upheaval and emotional turmoil was the fact that he loved his cousin and wanted nothing but the best for him. He’d do anything to bring this chance of happiness to him, including helping him in any way he could with this blonde.

  “Of course, I’m right beside you, Hamish. Whatever you need.” They raised their pints in the age-old manner of gentlemanly camaraderie. “You’re never alone.”

  “Neither are you, Alain. No Buchanan will ever be alone.”

  Chapter Three

  They shared another pint before calling it a night and Hamish made his way home. Using the Underground wasn’t difficult, but if given the choice, he preferred traveling above ground. It wasn’t that he was claustrophobic, because he wasn’t. He simply preferred fresh air and the open sky above to racing around in the stifling darkness below.

  The concierge at the club arranged for a black cab and he enjoyed the quiet ride home. The driver didn’t chat at all, which was good because he wasn’t in the mood for talking. He played some jazz that suited him perfectly. After going through it all with his cousin, he’d calmed somewhat. Now he felt contemplative. He tried to get comfortable with the new sensuality making its way through him. While he wished he could go out and find her, settle things immediately, it wasn’t going to happen.

  What he had to do was get a grip on his patience and keep it in check. The state he was currently in, close to the boiling point, there was no way he’d be able to handle simply speaking with her. The effort had to be made to keep the emotions in control. Too much was at stake not to.

  Because it was so late, there was little hassle as the cab moved through some of the busiest areas of the city. They made good time on their way through the roundabouts marking Mayfair and Hyde Park Corner, along Park Lane with the grand open space of Hyde Park lost in darkness on one side and the wild and bright West End on the other. Within fifteen minutes, they drove around the Marble Arch roundabout and into a peaceful neighborhood in the bustling city. He owned a place here in London. With all the business he handled here and the fact that he periodically sported horns, it meant he didn’t fit well into the hotel lifestyle.

  It was well past midnight by the time Hamish made it home, and he was too wound up to sleep, or maybe he didn’t want to. There was so much going on in his life to simply close his eyes and think everything would be settled in the morning. Instead, he sat in his living room staring at the flames flickering in the fireplace, without really seeing them. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about her, Grace. She was the woman who seemed to have the ability to consume his mind and body. Actually, he didn’t want to push thoughts of her away, he liked how she fit inside him.

  Duncan hadn’t called yet with any details. Maybe it had been too much to ask of him this late. Honestly it didn’t matter, he was too eager to know what he could about her, so he waited. He had to remember to keep in mind that no matter what else he learned, he still had to apologize for being such a rude idiot at the party. There were no excuses for how he’d acted, although Hamish hoped she wasn’t really interested in the money over the person.

  Or a lesbian. If she was, then he’d have no chance with her and he wanted one.

  Walking over to the side bar, he poured a splash of whisky to sip while he waited. Lifting the glass, he smelled dark fruits, spices, oak and other aromas he found relaxing. The scent of fine old whisky never failed to remind him of home where he liked to spend time in his study, unwinding at the end of the day with a glass of the golden beverage. Before he could take a drink, he felt his pocket vibrate. Putting the glass down on the bar, he quickly pulled his mobile out and answered it without checking the screen to see who it was. It simply had to be his nephew.

  “What do you have for me, Duncan?”

  “Plenty. You ready?”

  “Yes.” Looking to be comfortable for this conversation, he picked up his whisky and went to sit on the couch. With his feet on the table, he took a drink and as the burn raced down to his stomach, he listened to the basic information of numbers, addresses and more before he made it to the part he’d truly been waiting to hear.

  “I’ve already emailed all that information to you. Now, because of the time, I was only able to gather some basic fundamentals on the lady you asked about, but not much else. Her full name is Grace Ann Strachan. She was born in Edinburgh and is twenty-eight years old. Her parents died when she was thirteen, and without any other relatives stepping forward to help, she became a foster child. The family she was placed with brought her to live in Balmedie, a village north of Aberdeen. While there, she was a star student and took a variety of art courses along with English and history. The records show she received funding to attend Royal College of Art. It looks like she worked the same two jobs throughout her advanced education. One was in a boutique and the other a pub.”

  Hamish closed his eyes and tried to picture the woman he’d seen earlier as a student. He could imagine the fire for learning filling her eyes. She must’ve been full of energy, eager to embark on her chosen path and start fulfilling her goals. While lost in this picture, he murmured the first question that came to mind.

  “What did she graduate with?”

  “A first with honors.”

  He smiled, that’s what he’d expected. The silence on the line finally caught up with him and he had a good idea why.

  “Did you find any photos of her?”

  “Yes, and she’s stunning. Those eyes are—”

  “I know. Where are the pictures from?”

  “Graduation, and then there are a handful of others from a few years later. Those show her dressed up at various events and ceremonies she attended.”

  “What happened after college?”

  “She went on to apply for and was awarded a grant from the Prince’s Fund. At first it was to start a business making hats for the charity that maintains many of the estates and gardens throughout the UK. After a year and a half, she went back to the board and was given approval to cut her contract short in order to open her own store. It’s called Frivolity and the flagship shop is in a great position on Old Bond Street. Since then, I found she won the Accessory Designer of the Year award three times. Besides London, she owns shops in Leeds and Edinburgh, all of which are thriving.”

  The lady he’d cornered at the event earlier mentioned a few of these things, but this time he heard it with a more open mind. She hadn’t been after anything from him or any other man. Grace Strachan was in charge of her own life. She’d worked hard for what she had and was successful. It also seemed like she had the support and respect of those in her field as well. This was a big deal and he couldn’t help but feel proud of all she’d accomplished.

  “Some of the most popular designers in the world are using her hats in their shows and advertisements. And not only does she have ladies who are known for their good taste as dedicated clients, in a few months time, she’s going to receive a royal warrant from the Prince of Wales’ second wife. Trust me when I tell you this award will thrust her into an entirely different bracket.”

  “I didn’t know you were so into fashion.”

  “I’m not, Sara is. My girlfriend talks about nothing other than wearing a Frivolity hat to her best friend’s wedding in the spring. I’m telling you, Hamish, this Grace Strachan is hot.”

  “Hmmm.” That was something they agreed on, although maybe not for the same reasons.

  “Now, fiscally she’s—”

  “Stop, stop. I don’t want that information.” He spoke loudly to cover his nephew’s next comme
nts.

  “What? But—”

  “No more, Duncan. I know you went all out to gather all this information for me, and I appreciate it. However, I’ve heard enough.”

  “Fine, it’s my turn then. You said later, and it’s later. Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

  “No, because Grace Ann Strachan is personal.”

  “What? Hamish, you can’t do this to me. I’ve worked the phone and computer for a couple of hours looking into this lady’s life. I feel like I now have a vested interest in her. You can’t cut me off like that.”

  “Yes, I can and I am.”

  “Fine, but will you at least tell me if she’s you personal or work personal?”

  While earlier he may have spoken freely to Alain about what he wanted with her, telling Duncan didn’t feel right. But neither could he lie to the other man. He was family. He’d brought the young man on board as his assistant so he could learn the business, be his left hand where Alain was on his right. Already the kid knew quite a bit about how he worked, he didn’t need to know this and the reason was simple. It was too new to share with anyone.

  “All I’m going to say is that I’d like you to destroy everything you found and keep your search for information about her between us. No calling Gran or hassling Alain for more details. Got it?”

  “Okay. Whenever you’re ready, I’d like to know what’s between you two.”

  “Fair enough. Thanks, Duncan, appreciate your keeping the late hours and working so fast on this for me.”

  “You’re the man, Hamish.”

  He hung up with the first laugh of the night ringing out and filling the living room. His nephew’s easy attitude was definitely what he’d needed to hear. Any lingering doubts he had about going forward with his plan to bring Grace to him had been lifted. She was the perfect woman for him. Now he just had to make her see this as well.

  * * * * *

  How was it possible that the man from last night was still on her mind, haunting her every thought?

  He’d been there all night, keeping her up while he strutted through her dreams, alternating between pissing her off and turning her on. Damn that man. Grace stamped her foot in frustration and flopped into her chair with disgust. She decided to stop fighting it and let him wash through her mind and body. Then she’d be done with him for good.

  The stunning man’s commanding presence was still very much on her mind and kept her turned on. Somehow he’d managed to take control of her passionate soul, even though she hadn’t given him permission. It was interesting because this was all new for her. Not the handing over control to a lover, but the blind consent bit, even if it had all taken place in her mind. She had to figure with distance from their brief interlude came more curiosity. She wanted to seek out his power again and test its boundaries.

  What happened to her last night?

  What did he do in just a few seconds to so thoroughly captivate and entrap her?

  Sitting behind her desk at the back of Frivolity, she sipped a freshly brewed cup of chamomile tea. She glanced at her current design board and saw none of it. Not the rough sketches, color palette or words of inspiration to bring to life another season of hats. Instead, her exhausted mind took over and freely traveled where it wanted and that was to the man haunting her.

  Had the months, okay, almost two years of celibacy turned her into a sex maniac? Her body seemed to think it had, at least as far as this particular man was concerned. It didn’t matter that her brain classified him a jerk, her body still knew it wanted him to physically possess her, master her. Take her places she was sure her lust had never been before, but where it would flourish. It was hard to argue with the kind of desire currently ruling her.

  Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes and tried again to lighten up so she could find a way to come to terms with her mystery man. Apparently this was the only way she’d get through this day.

  Sexually, she preferred being submissive. Grace knew what she was, what she enjoyed and was comfortable with her choices. She liked being led down the twisted path of pleasure domination offered.

  She sighed with relief for finding a way to let this all float freely around her mind, without any restrictions.

  Outside of his controlling demeanor and the resulting need for sex he’d given her, what was it about this stranger that continued to hold her attention? How, after he’d been so rude and insulted her integrity, was he still able to intrigue her?

  Why him? Shoot, that was the real question, why him? What was so special about the Scotsman? Maybe it would help lessen this man's hold on her if she thought about the last man she dated. Was she immediately attracted to him? Where did she meet him? What did he say that made her think he was someone special enough to spend more time with him? Did he make her smile or turn her on?

  Think, Grace, think.

  All sorts of questions raced around her head and all of them remained unanswered. This wasn’t working. She needed to push them away, him as well. Sitting up, she took another sip of tea. Work was soon going to be more hectic than she’d ever experienced before and in a good way. She must be prepared for anything to happen, especially the unexpected. Today her plan had been to take it easy, play around the shop with the ladies who worked for her, get back into the creative groove before complete confusion took over and reigned.

  Despite the stranger hijacking her thoughts, Grace felt pleased and confident with her life. It was headed exactly where she wanted it to go, in the way she wanted it to, and today was no different. She’d dressed in her normal sedate manner, elegant with a bit of whimsy. The classic black stilettos, an ankle-length black pencil-slim skirt with a kick pleat in the back and a simple, beautiful white organza blouse were merely the canvas. Subtle pearl earrings and a bracelet were the only pieces of jewelry she wore and waiting on her desk was the piece de resistance, a wonderful black straw and red ribbon confection for her head. The minute she put the hat on, she’d be ready for customers.

  She took a deep breath and contemplated her future. In a few months’ time she’d stand outside on Old Bond Street where the Duchess of Cornwall would grant her a warrant for her patronage. Just thinking about having a royal seal placed on her shopfront still surprised her. It was an honor and would help remind her of the distance she’d travelled through hard work and dedication.

  It began almost two years ago with two stores opened and doing well when a well-known stylist she knew by reputation alone phoned and asked her out for lunch. While they ate, she’d been given a few brief details about his female client of a certain age who was about to marry for the second time and wanted to change her public image. She’d offered options and ideas suitable for a soon-to-be wife who would be in the public’s eye. It had been an interesting discussion that later became a request for a personal meeting with the woman in question. It wasn’t until she’d been invited to the stylist’s home that she discovered the client was actually a lady who was about to become a member of the royal family. Not that her opinions or ideas had changed afterward, she stayed true to what she thought was the right direction for this woman to take.

  That had been a big day for Grace. The Duchess had been very nice and adventurous, willing and ready to step out of the traditional box when it came to her hats. They had tea and talked about colors, shapes and her desire for the wow factor. Grace thought it couldn’t get any better and yet it did. They had started that day with something for the Duchess to wear for the engagement announcement and hadn’t looked back since. Despite the fun they’d had creating the ultimate accessory for the older woman to wear, she’d still been surprised when the telephone call came, notifying her about the honor soon to be granted to her and her shop.

  Once she’d been informed about the granting of this tribute, people from the warrant office had met with her personally. They told her what was about to come her way. She was to expect and prepare for the media to contact her requesting details about the duchess, her purch
ases and pictures of her in them, as well as firsthand accounts of their meetings. They also said she should anticipate an increase in both foot-traffic and purchases at all her stores, although at first the London store would most likely be the focus.

  She was ready for it all, which, unfortunately, now left her with time to contemplate the gorgeous man who’d made a place for himself in her mind. Whoever he might be, he held her undivided attention. With a few sentences, an insult and one seriously sexy body, he’d managed to shake her equilibrium like no one had ever done before.

  Slumping over her desk, Grace felt frustration filling her from the toes up. Maybe she should try to focus her thoughts of him on less seductive areas. There was one thing she kept glossing over and it might help things if she figured it out. There was something oddly familiar about him. She couldn’t put her finger on it and hadn’t heard his name, but maybe she knew him. It also appeared he had a twin or sibling there with him.

  Grace knew her faults and memory, or lack of one, resided at the top of the list. This man was so very good-looking she didn’t think it possible anyone could forget meeting him. Twins, for that matter, were usually quite memorable. Maybe she wasn’t remembering what he looked like correctly. She had been fuming at the time, so it was likely a few details had been skipped over or embellished.

  Then again, there was no proof the two men in kilts were related at all. They’d looked similar, but the hair was very different. Though superficial, she had a feeling the wild tresses said much about him and encouraged her fantasies to add an untamed element.

  Damn it! It didn’t matter how good-looking he was or if he had a hundred relatives, she still couldn’t put a finger on why she thought she knew him.

  Having no luck in that direction, she tried again to change the focus of her wayward mind. Beyond his appearance, what he’d said was another oddity that stood out in her mind. She didn’t want to make excuses for him, though maybe he deserved the benefit of the doubt for at least one thing. After having spent most of the night thinking about their encounter, Grace had reached at least one conclusion. The hurtful words he’d thrown at her had not been thought out. Instead, she believed he’d said them to get a reaction from her. Well, he definitely had and much more than she was sure he’d expected to receive.