by L. L. Muir
“I shall survive,” he told her. For another day, God willing. Or witch willing, he supposed. If that wee dip in the sea counted as his deed, Soni might come ‘round to collect him before he got his two full days.
And quite the opposite from the night before, he was content to spend the rest of his mortal hours, or minutes as the case might be, happily freezing his ballocks off on Stroma.
Penny didn’t know what to do. Did she thank God for sending this Scottish Superman to Stroma to save her from The Gloup? Or did she curse Fate for teasing her so mercilessly? She’d been right, in the beginning, to be glad he was disagreeable. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to keep her distance.
Even now, their chairs were far too close together.
She blamed her warm and fuzzy emotions on the lingering smell of bacon, of course. And a good deal of blame could be laid at the feet of whoever it was that invented the Great Kilt. She’d prided herself on her ability to think objectively in the presence of tartan-wrapped Scots. After all, she’d lived in the country long enough to acquire some immunity to them. But what warm-blooded female could have resisted Ethan Moodie, part-time asshat, full time Thor?
Nobody. That’s who.
And why did he have to always kiss her on her head? Was she that short? If he didn’t want to bend down to reach her lips, she’d be happy to stand on a chair if he’d only give her a little warning!
Her stomach growled and he laughed. She tried to ignore the chills that rolled through her bones in reaction to the sound. It was like a new kind of chocolate she knew she would crave as soon as he was gone.
She fumbled for the hot pad and knocked the grate closed on the front of the stove. “I’m plenty warm. How about you?”
“Auch, aye. And dry as can be. My boots are nae so lucky.” With his big, hairy feet, he nudged them closer to the stove. “I hung the wet things in the barn, until such time as ye decide whether to toss them in the drink.” He got to his feet just as she stepped in front of his chair and they collided.
She had to grab his arms to keep from falling. Even through the thick yellow cloth of his shirt, his muscles felt bare. She could almost feel the blood pumping through his veins. And embarrassed, she let go.
He grabbed her sides and held on while she caught her balance. “Easy, lass. Ye’ve nothing to fear from me. Nothing whatsoe’er.”
She knew better, but all she did was nod. “Shall I make supper, then?”
Her nod turned to a shake. “No. My turn. I just want to send an email first.”
He finally released her, but even when she was seated across the room, in front of the computer, the tension in the air didn’t let up. She kept wondering what he would have done if she’d jumped up on a chair…
She opened the laptop. It had been some time since she’d checked her email, but there was nothing waiting for her. Without giving herself time to reconsider, she clicked the “compose” button. Her fingers flew across the keys as she wrote.
Dear Beverly,
I apologize if this email comes too late, but I wondered if you might still be interested in my research regarding dog pack behaviors. I was given to understand that Tom Lloyd’s name was a requirement for us to work together, but I wondered if you might consider a partnership with me alone. I am still on Stroma, doing my work, and can send you an update as early as next week, assuming funding is possible.
She signed her name and clicked “send” before she could chicken out. Sitting back in her chair, she smiled to herself. No matter what Beverly’s response was, she felt as if she had stepped out from under Tom’s shadow, and it felt really, really good. She opened her mouth to tell Moodie about it, but her words died on her lips. He was bent forward, chasing a wayward onion escaping from the kitchen while trying to keep from stepping on his kilt.
She laughed.
He straightened and scowled, the onion forgotten.
“I told you it’s my turn to cook.”
Red-faced, he shrugged and bit his lips like a little boy caught red-handed. “I didn’t have anything else to do.”
Man was she going to miss that face.
Penny finally relented and told Ethan he could cook, and while he was busy doing who knows what in the kitchen, she went to the bedroom she used for storage and thought she’d test herself. There was something about having Ethan on the island that made her feel a little braver than usual, and she figured it was a good time to see just how “over” Tom she really was.
The box was high on a metal shelf, tucked into the shadows behind the mug Tom used to whip up his old-fashioned shaving cream when his canned stuff ran out. The guy would have thrown a fit if she’d ever suggested he go scruffy, like Ethan.
Headed back to the mainland, he probably didn’t expect to run out of canned shaving cream ever again, or he would have taken the mug with him—and noticed the Movado watch box.
She pulled the box down, took a deep breath, and opened it. The black watch looked new. Not a fingerprint to be seen. The simple face, with just a dot and two hands, looked about as inviting as a sharp knife. But Tom insisted that the Sapphire model was the only thing that would make him happy—even if he rarely took it out of the box. After all, Stroma wasn’t the kind of place to show off your good taste.
Chances were a guy like Ethan would have been happy for a piece of cake and a song, even though she was a terrible singer.
I’m such an idiot! Tom couldn’t have loved her. He’d been too busy loving himself.
The door opened behind her and she brushed a tear from her cheek before turning. Ethan stood in the doorway with his brows puckered up with worry.
“Why do ye greet, lass?” His long legs ate up the space between them and he didn’t come to a stop until they were toe to toe. His hand lifted and he brushed her face with his thumbs, pushing away other tears she hadn’t noticed.
“Just realizing how gullible I was.”
“Ye mean Tom.”
“I’m not crying over him. I’m just dealing with how big of an idiot I was to think so highly of him. But I can also see that I wasn’t the one to let him down. He disappointed me.” She shrugged. “It just took me a long time to realize it.” She smiled up into Ethan’s eyes. “Who knows how long that might have taken me, to open my eyes, if you hadn’t come along. Shaken things up.”
There. The moment was perfect. All he had to do was lean down and kiss her, and she didn’t even need a chair…
Chapter Ten
Moodie stood before his wee Elvin lass and watched her struggle with another man’s betrayal. Her expression much resembled his brother’s, that day he’d come to Culloden Moor. The lad’s body had trembled with anger and resentment, like hers trembled now…
He swallowed hard and willed the memory away. This was not about him. It was not about his betrayal or the words that had haunted him all these years.
Ye promised. Ye failed us!
“Be gone with ye,” he whispered back.
“What?”
Moodie shook his head. “Nothing, lass, nothing. I dinnae ken what it is like to be betrayed as ye’ve been by someone ye thought ye loved, but I do ken what it is like to be the betrayer. Trust me when I say, like as not, he suffers more than ye.”
Penny scoffed. “Did you see him? He’s not suffering. And why should he? Look at this place. The way he sees it, he escaped, dodged a bullet.”
“But he drudged up an excuse to call ye, and wasnae happy to find ye with another.” Moodie shook his head. “Nay. He isnae sure of his choice even now.”
The lass considered for a moment, then lifted a shoulder. “Huh, maybe. Still. I’m sure he’s happy to be back to civilization.”
Moodie looked her over. “Auch, then more the fool he. For everything about this island is beautiful.” He took in the sight of her, the thoughts churning behind those eyes, and disregarded the charms of Stroma. The beauty of the island stood but inches away.
He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers while he
gathered her into his arms. She jumped a little at first, surprised, but then she put her hands to his shoulders and kissed him back with equal tenderness.
The house seemed to quiet around them, as if watching…and approving.
After a time, he pulled back and waited for her eyes to open. The lass dropped her hands to his waist and rested them there. He was content to hold her close for a while yet. It occurred to him that he couldn’t recall the last time he’d reveled in the mere proximity of a lass. And now, with Penny in his embrace, he felt…happy.
It had been so long since he’d experienced something other than guilt and worry, he was slow to recognize the feeling. The warmth in his heart cooled rapidly, however, as he remembered why it had been so long. And as soon as a certain witch collected him, it would be a great while before he would entertain such emotions again.
He pictured his Elvin lass alone on this island after he left and tried to imagine her content to be alone again. But he failed. No matter how he explained himself, she would not be happy to be abandoned yet again.
Gently, he released her and took the smallest step back. “Penny, lass, I’m afraid I cannae let this go any further.”
She shook her head, confused. “I wasn’t going to go to bed with you, if that’s what you—”
“Nay, I didnae mean that.” Moodie cursed under his breath. “I cannae stay here with ye.”
Penny nodded, “I know, you have to go help someone.”
“Aye. But no matter what, I’ll not be back.”
“Ok,” Penny said, “But there is Skype, there are phones, you know. We don’t have to…”
“There are no phones where I must go.”
Penny blinked at him for a moment. “No phones. So you’re saying…”
“After I leave here, we shall never be able to speak again.” It broke his heart to say it. But it was right that he do so. He couldn’t let them grow any closer. He could not take her heart with him when he left this place. Watching her now, he waited for her anger, or more tears. Instead, she simply took a breath and said, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes. I understand.” Penny smiled sadly at him for a moment. “Whatever you’ve got cooking, you’d probably better check on it. And it’s so late, we can call it supper, can’t we?”
Late? He looked at the wee window and realized the day was winding down as she said. Another day had nearly passed him by. An entire day on the island without performing anything noble to speak of. And unless the witch counted a dog rescue as his heroic act, he would end his quest as much a failure as when he’d begun it.
Looking down at his bonny Penny, though, he couldn’t help but be grateful for the time he’d been allowed in her life. And how long had it been since he’d felt grateful for anything?
“Come,” he said, resisting the urge to take her hand. “Allow me to impress ye with my culinary skills.”
“Well, cook fast. I’m starving.”
Chapter Eleven
The soup was horrible.
Penny realized, with horror, how Scottish food had gotten a bad reputation. Other than breakfast, the Highlander didn’t know anything about cooking. He left the papers on the onions, which were cut in ten different sizes. The fat was left on the meat, and it, too, had been cut into various sizes that couldn’t possibly have cooked evenly. And he’d added a few handfuls of beans without letting them soak and soften.
But the very worst moment was when she stirred her bowl and a big piece of bone came to the surface.
A big bone.
A bone she couldn’t immediately identify.
He noticed the big white chunk held to one side by her spoon, then looked at her face. “Ham bone, lass. I’ve not added poor Tom to the pot, aye?” He laughed at his own joke.
She tried to laugh with him, but since it took a lot of concentration not to hurl, all she could manage was a smile.
“Ye care naught for the soup?”
“Mmm. Just needs a little…butter.” She jumped up and took her bowl to the cook stove. With a box of spices in front of her, she couldn’t imagine anything that would help.
In the reflection of a shiny blue platter hanging on the wall, she watched Ethan as he finally took a bite. He paused, then took another. Then he coughed and pushed his bowl away.
“‘Tis no use, lass. I declare it inedible, but I thank ye for yer kindness.” He pulled the bowl to him again, tasted it again, then pushed it away with a grimace. The poor guy looked like someone had stolen his lunch money.
“Maybe it was the combination of ham bones and beef,” she said. And a half cup of salt it didn’t need. She turned and faced him with a smile. “But look on the bright side. We always have eggs and bacon. And there’s bread, so you won’t starve while we cook.”
He cheered slightly. “Aye. There is that.”
They scrapped the soup and started fresh with bacon, eggs, and her favorite recipe for drop scones, which were basically pancakes with a lot more flour and sugar. Cooked in butter on an iron skillet, they had a lovely crust and didn’t need syrup—just a little bit of melted Kerrigold finished them off.
Neither of them mentioned the soup, and they ate in pleasant silence, listening to the pop and crackle of dry wood catching fire in the pot-bellied stove. He insisted, as penance, that he would wash the dishes while she entertained herself. So she went to the bookshelf and pulled out an old favorite. However many times she tried, though, she just couldn’t make sense of the words, and her attention kept drifting back to the bare feet in the kitchen.
When he’d said they wouldn’t be seeing each other again or keeping in touch, she’d understood. She hadn’t been pretending. She really did get it. They had only just met, and he had things to do, and couldn’t be troubled with a new relationship, especially to a complete stranger. So she didn’t blame him. In fact, she was grateful; grateful that he’d spoken up and helped her keep her head on straight.
He’d been anxious to get off the island ever since he’d arrived, so she wasn’t surprised. And, when she thought about it, he’d been the only one in her life that had given her any warning at all. None of the others had done that. Not one. Not her parents or her grandfather or Tom.
She tried not to imagine how lonely it was going to be in the next day or two when she returned from her walk alone. Having company for one day—just one day—shouldn’t change anything, but she was afraid it would.
Despite it being unwise to do so, she thought about how it might have been if the big Scot had fallen in love with Stroma and wanted to stay. He would have been around for the heavy lifting, some of the cooking—breakfast only, of course—and would have been a lovely sounding-board to bounce her theories off. And, in time…
She shook her head to clear away the romantic notions she’d once ascribed to Tom. It had been a mistake, then, and it was a mistake, now. The only problem was that when Tom had kissed her, she didn’t remember having any of the physical reaction she’d had with Ethan. And even though their one kiss had been immediately followed by a cold bucket of reality poured over her head, she would never forget how her heart had pounded, how her thoughts had swirled away like they’d been in the middle of a ballroom, waltzing.
She was still feeling swept away when she suddenly realized the Scot was standing in front of her, frowning, with his hands on his hips like he’d been trying to get her attention.
“Lass?”
“Aye! Um, I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
“Now that I have yer attention, I would like to speak with ye for a piece.”
She nodded and moved to one of the chairs by the stove. He took the other and turned to face her squarely.
“Lass, I want to explain what I said in the storage room, aye?”
“You don’t have to,” she said. “I understand, I really do.”
“What exactly do ye understand?” Taking both her hands in his, he frowned at her again.
She tried to memorize his face for a seco
nd or two, then shrugged. “I understood that you need to leave soon—though we never got around to calling for a boat today—and that you won’t be back. We won’t keep in touch.”
“Aye, that is true. But… after what happened today, I am surprised ye were so understanding. I worry…”
Penny sighed. This was the last thing she wanted to discuss. It was one thing to talk about relationships, and another to talk about the pain that drove her. She had left her past in the past; there was no need to go through it now. Still, he did ask. And she supposed it might prove cathartic to open and clean old wounds when she was still bleeding a little from Tom and the whole watch thing.
So she took a deep breath and started talking. “There’s a reason I’m living out here on my own, you know.”
“Aye. Ye have dogs to care for. And yer research.”
Penny chuckled. “Well, they do keep me busy.” She glanced at a small framed picture of the dogs and smiled. “But also… I don’t really have anyone. People leave. People you care about, people you don’t. They—they have things to do, and places to be, and they go. Wherever we are, on an island or otherwise, people come and go. So when you said what you said,” she blew out a breath. “I was grateful that you told me the truth, at least.”
“Och, lass. I dinnae wish to leave ye. Ye ken that, aye?”
“Sure,” Penny said. “I know. Like I said, I understand.”
She pulled her hands away and scooted back in the chair, then pulled her knees up. A shield against memories that were coming at her head-on.
“My parents and I…won’t be seeing each other again. We don’t keep in touch, either. But it’s a good thing. They can’t help being the way they are, and I can’t help wanting to keep my distance.”
Her mother’s voice echoed around her. It’s only a loan, Penny. I don’t see what the problem is. It’s like you don’t care about me at all. Do you want me to lose the house? Do you want your mother to be out on the street? I can’t believe you would hesitate to help me. Money has changed you.
