But where am I?
She popped up out of the covers, listening. A crackling fire in the fireplace issued a lighthouse, golden glow in the darkened suite. Elliott’s bedroom. Check. In bed alone. Check. Fully clothed. Check.
Where is he?
As if answering her question, the sound of splashing water came from the bathroom located across the room. Elliott must be showering. She needed to find a guest bath to freshen up. But where? If she made her way back to the kitchen, Alice could direct her.
Just as she reached for her boots, David walked out of the bathroom and switched on a lamp. “Dr. Fraser will be out shortly. Can I bring ye’ a cocktail?”
“If he’s in the shower, he must be feeling better,” she said.
“He says he does.”
Relief sailed out on a breath. “I’d love a glass of the Château Chasse Spleen 1990 I saw in the cellar.”
“I’ll send for it. Is there anything else?”
“A bathroom.”
He pointed to the opposite corner. “Alice put fresh towels in the bath through that door. Ye’ll find everything ye’ need. I’ll let Dr. Fraser know ye’re awake.”
Meredith slipped on her boots, and when she straightened, David was gone. Dang. That man disappears faster than crostini and brie at a French white wine tasting.
After a quick shower, she brushed her teeth and reapplied her makeup. Since meeting Elliott, she’d been magically transported to a place she’d never been, a place that existed only in day dreams. Now that she had a taste of the magic elixir, she could easily become addicted. Tomorrow she’d worry about that, but not today. After all, it was Christmas.
Refreshed, she reentered Elliott’s room and found him sitting in a wing chair in front of the fire, reading and sipping a cocktail. The setting was timeless, right down to the blue-gray Scottish deerhound asleep at his feet—the Lord of the Manor and his hunting dog. The animal jumped up and trotted toward her.
“She’s beautiful, Elliott.” Meredith petted the dog’s head, which almost reached her elbow. “What’s her name? And please don’t tell me it’s Gracie.”
“Gracie?”
“You know like Fred and Ginger, George and Gracie.”
He laughed, his chest shaking in a reassuring way. “Annabella.” Hearing Elliott’s voice, the dog returned to his side, sniffing the open Amazon book boxes scattered on the floor.
“Where does she stay when you’re not here?”
“Alice keeps her. I’ve thought of taking her to Kentucky, but I don’t think she’d get on well with Tate and Tabor.”
“I can’t picture you with critters that track mud on the floor or shed on clothes. Who or what are Tate and Tabor?” She arched her brow. “Goldfish?”
He grabbed his chest with both hands as if he were having a heart attack. “I’m shocked that you have such a dreadful opinion of me.”
“Oh,” she said, slapping her palm to her forehead. “You did tell me about them. Tate’s a golden retriever. Right?”
“Not just a golden; a country-music-crooning one.”
“And Tabor is some kind of cat.”
“A persnickety Maine Coon.”
“Tabor is the one who’s spoiled, right?”
Elliott nodded. “They were Mary MacKlenna’s pets.”
“How’s Mary related to Kit?”
“Her mother. When she died last year, I inherited the animals.”
Meredith lifted a chilled bottle of wine from the ice bucket on the sideboard. “It’s my wine.” She squeezed Elliott’s shoulder and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
He patted her hand. “David told me your wine was in the collection. Dad was particular about the wines he collected. That says a lot about yours.”
“I’m pleased my labels met his standard.” She poured a glass, then sat in the chair opposite Elliott, neatly crossing her legs. “Did Mary own your farm in Kentucky?”
He shook his head. “Her husband did. The land has been in the MacKlenna Family since 1792. The farm was left to Kit.”
“Do you think she’ll sell it now that she’s living in Scotland?” Meredith’s pulse quickened. She was treading a slippery slope, but having questions about Kit ignored and evaded butted heads with her stubborn streak.
“Would you sell your winery?” he asked.
“No. I guess that’s a no for Kit, too.” Meredith gave in to the impulse and let her leg swing.
After a moment, he said, “A few years back, the family considered selling off a non-contiguous track, but they were convinced old Thomas MacKlenna’s ghost would haunt them if they sold even an inch. Kit is bound by family and tradition.”
Meredith gave him a warm smile. “I can appreciate that.”
“I think she believed Sean MacKlenna would live forever.”
Meredith stared down at her leg and willed it to stop shaking. “I thought my dad would live forever, too.”
“Yes, but you’ve jumped in and are moving forward. Kit loves racing and breeding but not the business side.”
“I’m not sure I enjoy that part, either. It’s all a gamble. Bad breaks can kill you whether you’re growing grapes or racing horses.”
“Is your new wine a gamble?”
“I’ve done my homework, and we’ve test-marketed the wine in several locations with good results. But yes, it’s a gamble, especially in this economy.”
“You hate to be the one to make the big blunder that could bring down the business.”
“I couldn’t live with that,” Meredith said. “That’s why my life is so scheduled right now.”
He laughed. Annabella stood and bumped Elliott’s arm with her nose. He patted her head affectionately. “Sounds like mine.”
“I’d love a few stress free days, though.” She glanced around the room, sensing for the first time how calm she had become in the last few hours. The turmoil in her stomach had eased, and quiet confidence replaced the nagging tension. “I feel less stressed here. You do, too, don’t you?”
Annabella lay down at his feet, but he patted the arm of the chair as if her head was still nudging his hand. “This is the only place in the world I can escape the fires, but starting tomorrow, I’ll need an over-sized extinguisher to put them out.”
“Because of Galahad?” she asked.
Elliott nodded. “His death is a forest fire that will grow out of control, quickly. I’ve seen it happen before.”
“When are you going home?”
“I’m scheduled to stay here until the first, but now I don’t know. How about you?”
“The same, unless something pulls me home earlier,” she said. Like a doctor’s report.
He sipped his drink. “If I can do damage control over the next few days, we might have time to enjoy part of the Hogmanay.”
A quick knock on the door preceded David’s entrance. He pushed a food cart into the room. “Where’d ye’ like the table?”
“Here.” Elliott pointed to the space between his chair and Meredith’s. David locked the cart and snapped the leaves into place. Once Elliott and Meredith settled themselves at the table, David reached beneath the cart and presented her with a bottle of wine, label forward. It was the 1870 Lafite. An orgasmic feeling welled within her. Her body tingled from big toe to eyelashes. Never in her life had she been so surprised. She gazed at Elliott and saw similar pleasure in his eyes. She should decline the gift, but that would be rude, and she was all but salivating to taste the wine.
“Thank you.” The words came out on a long, slow breath.
He reached for her hand, squeezing her fingers. “The expression on your face is exactly what I was hoping for.” Elliott gave a silent nod to David, who then removed the cork and placed it on the table. Meredith cocked her head and studied it, noticing its immaculate condition. She inhaled deeply with anticipation, feeling very optimistic.
He poured two ounces into a spotless wine glass. Her heart thumped wildly. The men could probably hear, but she didn’t care. H
er hand shook as she tilted the glass at a forty-five degree angle against the white tablecloth and assessed the wine visually. She found no faults with the healthy, dark garnet wine. She rotated her wrist, swirling the wine for a few seconds, then checked the patterns formed by the legs. Next, she placed her nose inside the wine glass and sniffed—celery, mint, cedar and cassis. Slowly, she sipped, swallowed. The wine had a long, sweet finish.
“Extraordinary.” She set down the glass, and David poured more wine. “Are you going to have a glass?” she asked Elliott.
“Not tonight, wee sweetheart.” David handed him a fresh cocktail, and Elliott sipped.
She smiled up into his eyes. “You did this just for me?”
“I did it for two selfish reasons. I wanted to see your expression, and I was hoping to see your father stand up in his grave.”
Her smile widened, imagining the sight. “If we were at the winery, we could probably see him.”
David removed the dome lids covering the food.
“So what did Alice conjure up for dinner?” Elliott asked.
“Ye’ favorite. Prawns in whisky cream, salmon, and potatoes,” David said.
“Very Scottish,” Meredith said, taking another sip and making mental notes of how the wine flowed over her tongue.
“Alice twitches her nose and food appears,” Elliott said.
“That makes more sense than cooking in the midst of a torn up kitchen.”
“She cooked at the cottage tonight.” David refreshed Meredith’s glass, then quietly left the room.
“Alice took me on a round-about to the kitchen earlier. I think she was trying to get me lost, or else she was showing off the house.”
“She’s been here fifty years. She’s proud of the place and treats it like her own. I’ll give you the ten cent tour after dinner.”
“You don’t need to be up and about. Maybe we can come back later this week.”
Elliott chewed the prawns slowly, thoughtfully. Then he gave her a teasing smile that made his dark brown eyes twinkle. He dabbed at his mouth with the cloth napkin. “Have you had a lover since your husband died?”
She studied him, unsure of how to answer. It was none of his business how many lovers she had turned down due to the timing or the man not being suitable.
He looked her over with roguish scrutiny. “It’s not something you forget how to do.”
“Like riding a bike?”
“A horse is probably a better analogy,” Elliott said.
She quirked an eyebrow and gave him a lopsided grin. “In that case, I certainly haven’t forgotten. I ride my stallion, Quiet Dancer, at least three times a week.”
His jaw dropped. “That horse was hard to manage. I thought they put him down after he hurt his leg.”
“The injury ended his racing career, but he’s a good riding horse. He behaves for me.”
Elliott tipped his head back and laughed. “Darlin’, with your long legs wrapped around me, I’d behave, too.”
“Ha. You wouldn’t behave at all. You’re incorrigible.”
He picked up the bottle of wine and filled her glass. “There you go believing the wee stories about me again.”
“You make it easy to believe them.” She sipped the wine and smiled. “Are you trying to get me intoxicated so you can take advantage of me?”
He set down the bottle of wine, picked up his cocktail, and gave her an easy salute with the glass. “It didn’t work for me last night, but I’m an optimist.”
Not sleeping with him had little to do with the length of time she’d known him and everything to do with her previous mastectomy and the one yet to come. She’d always spoken freely about her cancer, but with Elliott, she hesitated. She did owe him an explanation, especially after opening a ten thousand dollar bottle of wine. “Elliott, I—”
A knock interrupted her, and David’s entrance shelved her confession. “I’ll take the wee table if you’re through.”
Elliott scooted back in his chair. “Give us an hour, and we’ll be ready to return to Edinburgh.”
David nodded to Elliott and made an almost indiscernible waving motion with his hand. Annabella stood, wagged her tail, and followed David out of the room.
“What were you saying?” Elliott asked.
She shrugged. “Oh, nothing.”
Feeling the heat of his gaze, she looked everywhere but at him. Her eyes came to rest on the portrait hanging over the fireplace. “Is that your father?”
“It was painted the year he turned fifty,” Elliott said.
“Handsome man. You favor him, but then I haven’t seen your mother’s portrait. Where is hers?”
Elliott drew his brows together and set his mouth in a determined line. After a moment, he said, “Come. I’ll show you my favorite room at Fraser House before we head back to Edinburgh. Bring your wine.”
Slowly, she rose from the table. He’s not going to talk about his mother either. Dang, there’s a story there, and I’d love to hear it. I’d love to hear Kit’s story, too. Elliott played life close to his chest, and she doubted he’d ever open up to her.
Meredith picked up her glass and followed him with well-seated knowledge that she was falling for a man who could hurt her more than she’d ever been hurt.
Chapter Twenty-One
Louise’s B&B, Edinburgh, Scotland – Late Christmas Night
MEREDITH SLIPPED A royal blue nightgown over her head. The silk shimmied over her fresh-out-of-the-shower body. A quick brush through her hair left her ready for bed. She walked out of the bathroom at the B&B and heard noise from the adjoining room. She pricked her ears. Random sounds—cars, gunshots, screaming, newscasters—that could only come from flipping TV channels.
Elliott had been quiet on the ride home. He didn’t talk much about his dad, but Meredith sensed that being home reminded Elliott of how much he missed his father. She understood that feeling well.
They had kissed in the hallway. His hard, aroused body had made his desire perfectly clear. Although what she wanted remained foggy, her body reacted with a single-minded purpose. He didn’t want the day to end any more than she did. Although she melted in his arms, she couldn’t sleep with him, and her hesitation confused him. Confused her, too.
An hour later, she climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her head. Even in the dim light, she could see Elliott’s dark brown eyes fill with calm disappointment when she closed the door.
Did she have excuses or honest concerns? Although she was self-conscious about her reconstructed breast, the surgeon had matched the other side beautifully. Yes, the breast was scarred, but they had faded with time. Then why?
Baffled, she rolled over and punched the feather pillow with her fist. “Urg.” Her uncertainty tipped the frustration scale. She buried her face, smelling the freshly laundered pillowcase.
“Urg,” she groaned again, kicking her feet. The sheet and blanket came untucked. Now her toes were cold. She’d never been so indecisive in her life. If indecision was the norm for her, her grapes would rot on the vines.
The scent of the Highlands, fresh and woodsy, permeated her skin. Separating the man from the land was impossible now that she had seen him in his element. She kicked her feet again as a vivid sensory image flashed across her mind—the sleigh ride kiss—a kiss unlike any other, a kiss that still sizzled hours later.
A lonely ache resided in the pit of her stomach. A delicacy, something sumptuous like Elliott, would satisfy the yearning. But at what cost? The loneliness would only be worse tomorrow. That’s why she’d never considered a one-night fling. So why now? Because a charming, irresistible Scotsman wanted her or because she wanted more of him than a mere taste?
She rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Go knock on his door. She wrung her hands, twisting and tugging on her fingers as if they were a sopping wet dishrag. Then she threw back the covers and paced until she stood in front of their adjoining door.
“Elliott,” she said, tapping lightly. “Are you stil
l awake?” She waited an interminable minute until the lock turned on the other side of the door.
“Meredith, unlock your side,” he said.
She turned the bolt, and the door swung open.
“I’ve had my hand on this door a half dozen times.” He stood mere inches from her, supported by his crutches and wearing tight gray boxer briefs and his walking boot. She stared at his broad muscular shoulders, and then she set her eyes on his bed. He’d turned down the bedcovers and fluffed the pillows.
“You were turning in. I’m sorry.” She pushed on the door as if to close it.
He stuck one of the crutches in the way. “Meredith, what do you want?”
“Sleep with me,” she blurted out. “I mean, go to sleep in my bed.”
A grin split his face. “That’s a good place to start.”
“I miss you.”
His gaze swept over her, marking her with a visual caress. He gently tugged on the fabric where the two triangle cups of the empire waist gown overlapped. “Do you have anything less revealing to sleep in?”
“A 49ers football jersey.”
“That would be just as evocative.” He teased the swell of her breast.
Her lips parted to say something clever about her team, but he kissed her open mouth, and she moved closer to him, melding into his warm chest.
“I can’t stand. We need to get into bed or we’ll both end up on the floor.”
“Please—”
“You’re not a teenager whose virtue needs protecting.” Emotion thickened his voice.
The decision belonged to her to make in a moment of weakness or in a moment of conviction. She wrestled with the fierceness of her desire. “Take me to bed.”
“Or lose you forever?” he asked, quoting the line from the movie Top Gun. He dropped the crutches, sat on the bed, pushed the covers out of the way, and pulled her into his arms.
Heat seeped through his fingers into her skin, stirring her coiled passion and sending fragrant smoke spiraling though her.
“I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you.” His tongue swept against hers. The taste of whiskey, smoky and sweet, filled her mouth. Whatever fears she’d had, her all-consuming need quashed them now. Her body ached and grew more insistent with each kiss and stroke of his fingers, teasing her neck and her face. She wrapped her arms around him and anchored her body to his. The inextinguishable fire burned through her, and she couldn’t say no. Not to him, not to his erection poised and throbbing between them.
The Last MacKlenna Page 13
