by Willa Blair
Ian was reliable. He never missed a workday, check. First to arrive, last to leave, check. Great with the twins, oh yes, check. That one gave her a twinge, deep inside where her heart used to be, before Angus took it to the grave with him. Any man who wanted her would have to love her twins, and they him. Ian already seemed to like them, thank God. If they thought he disliked them, they would make no end of trouble—as only her twins could do. She knew the twins were fascinated with him. Or was it just because he controlled their access to the mysterious parts of the estate? Time would tell. At any rate, she loved seeing him interact with them. Polite to her, check. More than polite? She had to be imagining anything else.
But maybe not. She could dream…and hope for more. When the time was right. With a shrug, she put the car in gear and drove home.
****
When Ian heard Lara call his name, his breath caught. He hadn’t heard her car come up the drive to the keep, but he’d been focused on what Rollo Hay, his structural engineer, had found in what appeared to be a closet or privy at the far side of the old wing’s ground floor. The slate flooring tiles were loose and a few lay at slight angles, out of place. Could someone have filled in a well or trash pit and laid the tiles over it? Unusual to find such a thing inside a seventeenth century dwelling, to say the least. Rollo would investigate it eventually, but his first order of business was to make sure there were no problems with the building’s foundation.
He left Rollo and went to meet Lara. She’d paused where they broke through the wall. Good. He didn’t want her alone in here anymore than he wanted the twins running loose until he’d found and eliminated any dangers. So far, they’d only strung lights on this level. He hadn’t had a chance to check the upper floors yet, but oddly, what he’d seen on the ground floor didn’t live up to its “the old wing’s about to fall into ruin” reputation. Rollo had declared the joists over their heads had held up well enough. He and Ian could work safely in the space. Rollo was damn good at his job, but Ian would check everything himself before he put Lara and the twins at risk.
She’d been gone less than an hour—barely long enough to drive the twins to school and back. Since he’d taken over the restoration, she’d rarely intruded during the work day, so for her to show up now, she must be as curious as her children about this wing. “It’s okay,” he told her. “You can come ahead.”
She nodded and took a few cautious steps into the room, scuffing her shoes on the stone floor and turning her head to take in the space, making her bright hair skim the tops of her shoulders.
Ian’s fingers itched to brush back the last few strands and run his fingertips from her shoulders up along her neck, then grasp the back of her head and pull her into a kiss. Thank God, she wasn’t looking in his direction, or she might see the hunger for her in his eyes.
“I wonder what the builders used this area for.”
Pulling his attention away from the golden glints in her hair and giving her a nonchalant shrug took every ounce of willpower he possessed. “Storage, most likely. Living and sleeping chambers above.” Lara’s nearness made Ian think sleeping chambers meant beds…and beds were not just for sleeping, even all those centuries ago.
Her gaze swept the room and the ceiling, as if she tried to picture how the spaces Ian named would be laid out, then settled back on him.
The room suddenly heated.
Lara shifted her stance, then glanced away.
Ian stared, wondering how to break the tension growing between them. “Why don’t I show you around?” he offered. That would keep her with him. He could enjoy looking at her, hearing her voice, and feeling her near him, if only for a few more minutes. Rollo was sure to interrupt all too soon.
“If it’s okay,” she answered, a spark of curiosity bright in her eyes as her head came around and she met his gaze. Then she glanced around again and sighed. “Angus would have loved this. It’s a shame he never got to see it.”
Christ, that took some of the heat out of the room. Ian’s jaw clenched. He resented the mention of her late husband, especially after the way he’d been thinking about her just moments ago. And because not getting this job a year ago stung. Angus had never told him why, though Ian was pretty sure he knew the reason. Someone had mentioned Ian’s connection to the place.
Lara’s call to come take over the restoration had surprised him. Chances were, Angus never told her about him, and for that, Ian was very glad.
“Follow me,” he told her, his tone more gruff than he intended. Still, the reminder of her late husband chafed. He forced Angus out of his mind and led Lara down the ground floor’s main hallway.
He pointed out the structural features as he led her through the secondary rooms on this level, including the one with the odd area of flooring. Rollo stood and dusted off his hands when Ian introduced him. Lara offered her hand.
He grasped her fingers briefly. “Missus.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Hay. By the way,” Lara asked, “have you seen any sign of a mouse down here?”
“Nay, lassie.” He patted the wall at his side. “The wee beastie’d have a hard time coming in through this much stone.”
Her smile seemed a bit…confused. Did she think mice could gnaw through the mortar?
Rollo went back to examining the base of the wall as Ian led her away.
As they approached the main stairway, Lara asked, “Can we go upstairs? I’m curious to see how people lived before the newer part of the house was built.”
Ian nodded, happy to spend more time with her, then paused, considering. “There’s nothing wrong with the stone steps, and Rollo thinks the floor joists are sound, but we haven’t been up there yet. I don’t know what we’ll find.”
“Then let’s explore together,” she said with a hint of a smile. “Unless I’m keeping you from something you need to be doing.” She held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take up all of your time this morning.”
“You’re not intruding. I’m happy to show you around.”
Her answering smile lit up the dark spaces in Ian’s heart. The pain of that illumination surprised him. He’d thought he’d moved past his own grief over the loss last year of the grandfather who’d raised him after his parents died in an auto accident when he was nine. He supposed that was one reason he got along with Lara's twins—he knew first-hand what they were going through. But his grandfather had not lived to wander these halls as Ian was about to. Life wasn’t fair. His grandfather had been certain their heritage lay within these walls. If it existed, Ian might be on the verge of finding it, but he’d never be able to share it with the one person to whom it would have meant the most.
He shook his head and pulled his attention back to the woman at his side.
Lara looked around them, her face alive with curiosity.
Ian couldn’t help returning her smile, even though his experience told him even the most benign-looking structures could harbor a nasty surprise or two. “Only if you will stay by me and not wander off.” He grabbed two flashlights from a nearby work table and stuck one in his back pocket. “We haven’t strung lights up there yet.”
Lara suddenly looked uncertain. “Of course. You’re in charge.”
Ian would have paid good coin to know what went through her mind just then. Instead of asking, he switched on his flashlight, and started up the worn stone steps. “Have a care. They’re not even close to being level any longer.”
“I see that. Think of all the footfalls it took to make these dips in the stone.”
“Thousands. Thousands of thousands, probably.”
“This is the oldest part of the keep, isn’t it?” Lara asked after they reached the next level.
“That we’ve found.” Ian played the flashlight beam around them. The floors looked sound, the boards level and unwarped. He didn’t see any water stains on the walls or on the joists high above their heads. “Probably the original structure, which explains the lack of windows on the lower level, for
defense. It’s odd that someone took the trouble to brick up every opening, including sealing the whole thing off from the newer construction. Even odder that over the centuries, no one opened it up again.”
“Maybe the newer part was more comfortable to live in, so they just left the drafty old wing alone.”
“Maybe.” Ian swept the flashlight beam toward the ceiling. “This area was probably the original great hall. It’s too large to have been anything else. The height of the ceiling means the upper floor has a smaller footprint, and wraps around this space.”
Lara took a few steps toward the nearest doorway, surveying what Ian’s flashlight revealed. “It is strange that no one has tried to get in here lately—whether lately means decades or centuries.”
“This has always been private property, well off the main road and not easy to get to.”
She crossed her arms and shivered as she peered into the empty space over her head. “It’s more than a little spooky up here now.”
Was she cold? Or afraid of the dark? He’d give her the other flashlight, but he wanted her to stay right with him. If she had her own light, she might wander away and get into trouble. “It’ll be better once we clear the bricks from the windows and let in some sunshine and air.”
“How long will that take?”
“Not long, once Rollo approves the structure around them. But we’ll need to cover them with plastic, or glass them in quickly. The wet will ruin the floors in a hurry.” He glanced upward, though there was nothing to see but the underside of the floor above them. “’Tis a miracle the roof is still on. Roofed structures were once so heavily taxed, owners removed them from buildings no one lived in.”
“Is that why so many castles are in ruins?”
“It’s one reason,” he replied, resisting the temptation to mention how many had been destroyed in battles or pulled down to prevent English forces from occupying Scottish territory. “Whoever built the main house actually re-roofed this old wing to match the rest.”
“And yet didn’t bother to open up this wing. That is strange.”
Ian took Lara’s arm and led her to one of the doorways off the great hall’s open space, enjoying her nearness and how the light, fresh scent she wore distracted him from the dust and must of the age-old stone and wood surrounding them. He played the flashlight around the room, but it was empty. Lara shrugged, and they moved to the next. It, too, was empty. The floors continued to be sound, so he suggested, “Let’s go up,” and lit her way back to the stone stairs.
Lara glanced up the stairway and shrugged. “Let’s,” she said and started up the steps ahead of him.
Though he kept the light on the uneven stones at her feet, she suddenly stumbled and softly cried out. Ian grabbed for her and got an arm around her waist before her knees banged into the step above. She sucked in a breath when he pulled her back against his body and held her there. He meant only to give her a moment to get her feet back under her but found he could not let her go. Instead, he wrapped both arms around her, annoyed he could only touch her with one hand. The other held their light source.
“Are ye okay?” Ian felt Lara’s ribs expand under his hand as she breathed.
“I am now,” she murmured. “I could have sprained an ankle, or fallen and hit my head.”
“You needn’t worry,” he answered softly. “I’ve got you.” Pressed against his hard length, right where he needed her. Though he knew holding her was a mistake, he couldn’t let her go.
Her face flushed. “You do at that. I…I…” She glanced at the ceiling, then returned her gaze to his. “Thank you…”
“You’re welcome. I don’t mind a bit,” Ian teased. Her body was firm, yet soft against his. She made no move to escape his embrace. He lowered his gaze to her mouth. Her lips were so close. So tempting.
Lara’s breath warmed his face. Her gaze met his, then dropped quickly to his mouth.
He was certain she meant to allow his kiss…and to kiss him back. He parted his lips, drinking in her scent, eager to taste her.
Something moved in the darkness below them, soundless, but stirring the cool air and whispering across his hands. The back of Ian’s neck prickled.
Lara stiffened and cocked her head, as if listening.
“Just a draft,” he murmured. Ian could have sworn it was only moving air, nothing more. He hoped. He’d grown up hearing tales about Cairn Dubh—and its ghost. If Cairn Dubh did have a ghost, this ancient space would be a fine place for it to haunt.
He felt certain Lara would not enjoy hearing that. “Maybe Rollo went outside,” he offered, hoping to ease her tension and perhaps even get back to the kiss that seemed inevitable only moments ago.
Her expression grew serious and she pulled away. “That did not feel like the breeze from an open door. I want to go see what caused it.”
Reluctantly, he let her go. “Very well. Then you can go on about your day, if you like. We’ll save the upper floors for another time.”
Chapter Four
On the way into town the next day, the kids stayed quiet on the ride to school. Perfect timing, as far as Lara was concerned. After tossing and turning all night, she still wanted to kick herself. She had no business getting so close to Ian. She’d practically thrown herself at him, turning in his arms at his slightest touch. Suddenly hungry to feel hard male muscles against her curves, she’d pressed against him. She couldn’t miss the thudding of his heartbeat thundering in his chest. Her heart beat even faster, spurred on by his heat and the solid strength of his arms around her as he pulled her tightly against him. She’d discovered his hair was as soft and thick as she’d imagined, and she’d reveled in the feel of him hardening against her thigh when he realized she was touching him, even if she was merely caressing his hair. His gaze had bored into her as though he tried to read her thoughts, her intentions. And those lips. She’d been tempted to taste them. Too tempted.
Thank goodness Rollo had gone outside when he did. That breath of air from a door opening had distracted them from…what? She couldn’t bear thinking about how close they’d come to that kiss. She could deny the rest of what she’d felt—and what he’d felt—but a kiss would have been unmistakable. Undeniable. And it would have changed everything. However, thanks to Rollo’s trip out to his truck, which was the only thing she could think of to explain the weird draft she’d felt, she’d pulled back at the last second, before she made a complete and utter fool of herself.
What had happened to her decision to make Ian off limits?
She’d let her body’s burgeoning demands confuse her. And she’d confused him. She could see confusion—maybe even anger—in his eyes. But ever the gentleman, he’d let her go and led her down the stairs, ready to save her if she lost her footing again.
If only he could save her from herself.
She was an idiot. She really didn’t want to do anything to make him think of her as a desperate, lonely widow. She couldn’t. She needed him to finish this restoration. If she scared him off, Cairn Dubh would never be finished. No one else had been interested in a project of this magnitude. She’d never be able to sell it and return to California.
Lara sucked in a breath. Sell this place and return to California? Where had that thought come from? A vision of miles of tail lights in stalled traffic suddenly overlaid her view of pine trees and empty two-lane road. She hadn’t been tempted by the thought of returning home in months, not since soon after Angus’s death. Why now?
She’d never really thought about what came next, she realized. She’d been in a daze since Angus died. When she decided she had to finish the project they’d started, she’d never considered what she’d do once it was done. The twins loved living here. As much as they complained about school, they liked their teachers and the other kids. She didn’t have to worry about money. So what had made leaving pop into her head?
Was it because she was attracted to Ian Paterson? Ridiculous! Sure, he was tall, good-looking, and the only man she’d spent
significant time with in the last year, but seriously. She needed to stop imagining that she was attracted to him, or him to her. Their embrace didn’t mean anything except that he’d saved her from a fall. Her fog of grief was lifting, and that was all. If she wasn’t careful, every man in town would start to look good to her. Yet she knew she was kidding herself. The only man who looked good to her was Ian Paterson, the one man whose masculine pull she had to ignore. She pictured him wearing heavy glasses held together with white tape; a battered notebook, and not the digital kind, in his hand; and a collection of pencils and pens sticking out of a shirt pocket. When that image failed to do more than make her want to laugh, Lara sighed and put Ian firmly out of her mind. She reached the village, dropped the kids at school, and headed for the co-op market, running her shopping list through her mind like a litany.
Her friend Becky waved as she got out of her car. “I’m glad to see you,” she said. “I was going to call you later to remind you about the big harvest market day this weekend. Craftsmen from all around the area will be there, as well as the farmers. Have you been to a market day before?”
Lara shook her head. “No, not yet.” She took it as a sign of her improving outlook that a day in the festival atmosphere of market day finally sounded like fun. And it would be good for the twins, she reasoned.
“Well, you must not miss this one,” Becky told her. “The farmers will have turnips for making jack-o’-lanterns and of course,” she said and grimaced, “the Christmas and Hogmanay crafts will start to appear this month.” She tsked and shook her head. “They show up earlier every year.”
Lara laughed at the shared nonsense of holiday marketing—much the same, it seemed, on both sides of the Atlantic—and felt another layer of fog lift. “You have no idea. Winter clothes hit the stores in July in the States. Christmas decorations go up the moment Halloween is over. Sometimes before. New Year’s—Hogmanay—gets a few, too, but not like Christmas.”
