by Willa Blair
Becky laughed with her. “At any rate, you’d enjoy it, and those two scamps of yours would, too.”
Lara nodded. “I’ll think about it. I’m headed for the co-op now. I need milk and bread and…well, you wouldn’t believe how much two nine-year-olds can eat.”
“Mine are grown, but I remember. Ach! The food those lads could put away.” As they headed up the street toward the market, Becky asked, “And how is the restoration going now Ba…I mean Ian, has taken it in hand?”
Lara’s hackles rose. What nickname did Ian have that no one wanted to mention around her, but kept slipping out anyway?
“You’re not the first person who’s almost called Ian by another name. So fess up. What is it? A pet nickname? A team name? Something perverse that guys call each other—something he got stuck with in high school?”
Becky cleared her throat and shifted her gaze to the side. “Ach, ’tis nothing. And if you were to slip and call him by it, he’d be embarrassed, so ’tis best I not tell you.”
“Oh, come on. How bad can it be?” Lara urged. She paused and planted her hands on her hips, waiting.
Becky shook her head and kept walking.
Really? Lara took two long strides and caught up with her. “Okay, you’re going to make me guess,” she warned. “But if I get it right, you have to tell me.” She stared off into space as if contemplating the secrets of the universe. “Let’s see…something embarrassing. Is he a youngest child? Baby! That must be it.”
Becky pursed her lips and glanced aside at her. “Seriously? You have met the man, haven’t you?”
Lara let an evil laugh bubble up, and Becky joined in. Then she got back to business. “So, not baby. How about sports…hmmm, ball hog?”
No reaction.
“Bad ass, that’s it, right? You said embarrassing.”
Becky’s lips twitched but she shook her head. “He’s got a fine one, but no, that’s not it either.”
Lara snickered right along with her, the image of Ian’s backside filling her mind for the moment. Don’t go there! She needed to stop thinking about Ian that way. And Becky had an uncanny ability to read her like a book. Lara wouldn’t have to drool to reveal how her interest in Ian had grown—and changed. Stick to business—this was a close as she’d come to finding out one of Ian’s secrets. “No? Wait, what’s that Scottish word I’ve heard a few times? Ah, I’ve got it! Bampot.”
Becky giggled but kept shaking her head.
“Really? Good. I can’t see anyone calling him an idiot. What else…certainly not bastard.”
Becky choked and stopped walking. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, her shoulders shaking with mirth. “Nay.”
“Well, thank goodness.”
Becky held up her hand and Lara paused to let her catch her breath from laughing.
“No, and nay. You’re way off.”
They started walking again, but Lara had run dry of words that sounded like they started with “b-a.” She’d try out others as she thought of them. Becky wasn’t going to get off so easily. “Tell me more about the market day,” she requested, conceding defeat for the moment and changing the subject as they arrived at the door of the co-op market.
Becky dipped her head, indicating the interior of the store. “Don’t buy any more here than you’ll need between now and then. The harvest is coming in. The farmers will bring fresh-picked produce right from the field. Stock up with them.”
“Okay, that sounds like good advice.”
“Brilliant. Now, I’m off to find where I left my car. I’ve run so many errands today, I’ve lost track, and I’ve got to get home and get some cleaning done.” With a wave, she added, “I’ll see you this weekend. Cheers.”
“I hope so,” Lara replied. No, she would. Anniversary or not, it was time, and the twins deserved a day of fun.
After no more than another nod, Becky walked away.
Lara watched her go for a moment, suddenly wondering if she’d ever fit in here. She missed the hug she would have gotten from one of her friends in California when they parted. She missed her friends, her parents, sunshine—oh, she had to stop this. She’d made the decision to stay, at least through the restoration and sale of the house, and maybe forever. If she went back to California, she’d miss Scotland, the people here, and especially, she feared, Ian Paterson. That was life. Gaining and losing, often when you least expected it. Either way, she’d adjust. They all would. For now, she’d better focus on why she came to town. An hour later, grocery shopping done, she stopped at the petrol station to put gas in the car and then headed home.
****
Ian’s mobile rang, breaking his concentration on the plan he was drawing up to restore the great hall on the first floor of Cairn Dubh’s oldest wing. Since the place wasn’t exactly, as rumored, one strong wind away from falling down, he’d turned to thinking about its interior. And no matter how he measured, using his father’s metal measuring tape or his new laser tool, the interior dimensions were off. There had to be a hidden space—or more than one—in the void he’d left on his plan, a void that was repeated on each floor of the old wing.
While he shifted his seat on the stool and pulled his mobile from his back pocket, he reminded himself to make sure Lara knew to keep the twins out until Rollo finished the foundation work. He’d mulled over the idea of closing the wing off from the house again and cutting a construction opening on an outside wall. But the original builders would have been horrified at leaving it vulnerable to invaders. He nearly chuckled at the thought. Invaders. Right. Mice, maybe.
“Ian Paterson…” he answered.
“Good day, milord.”
Blane’s usual greeting made Ian groan. “Are you never going to tire of that?”
“Of course not, milord.”
Ian groaned again, as expected, then huffed out a breath. “Okay, what do you need?”
“Still the most astute man I know,” Blane answered, then paused.
Something was up. If Blane had a simple request, he’d be halfway through making it by now. Ian decided to wait him out.
“Okay, here’s the thing. We’ve decided to elope.”
“Shite, really? Elope?” Ian laid aside his pen and leaned his elbows on the slanted surface of the drafting table. “That is a surprise. What’s your hurry? The lass doesn’t look to be about to have your love child.” Ian heard a choking sound through the phone.
“You ken Cassie’s family is all for this marriage…”
“So you said.”
“But they want to make a huge production out of it. White gown, flowers, rent the nearest castle, the whole bit.”
“And Cassie doesn’t?”
“You guessed it. They’ve got her scunnered. So we’re going to nip all of their nonsense in the bud and do the blacksmith thing tomorrow. Before lunch. Problem is…”
“It’s a workday, and you need witnesses.”
“It is, and we do. I ken it’s short notice—”
“I’ll be there. But are you sure you won’t be burning your bridge with her family? They won’t like this.”
“Thanks. You’re a pal. We’ll find out once the deed is done. This was Cassie’s idea. She knows her family. She says they’ll get past it in a year or two—which will give us a year or two without demands for a grandchild.”
Ian had to chuckle at that “Well, then, it appears the lass kens what she’s doing.”
Blane laughed, too. “Aye. Another thing—do you think that lass you’re working for would be willing to come, as well? Everyone we know who wouldn’t spill the plan to Cassie’s family will be at their jobs, but we need at least two witnesses.”
Ian drummed on his drafting table with a pencil while he thought. Was this an opportunity, or a disaster in the making? A lass might expect certain things of a man who took her to a wedding, things he knew were not wise. The job was most important. Until it was done, until he had a chance to discover whether the keep held any answers…nay, he couldn’t risk i
t. But he wanted to. And this was Blane asking. Ian was only the messenger, aye? This might be his best chance to spend time with Lara away from the job. To get to know her better. To see if she might be interested in him—for later. After he had his answers. He took a breath, then said, “Her kids are in school during the day, so aye, she might.” It might be the daftest thing he’d done in a long time, but… “I’ll ask her, and her name is Lara MacLaren. By the way, why not wait for the weekend?”
“Ach, nay. If Cassie’s mom gets wind of this, she’ll talk Cassie out of it. Best we get it done and deal with the family after.”
“You’re a brave man…or a damn fool. I’m not sure which, but I’ll stand with you.”
“You’re a friend, Baron. It’s an honor. You’ll let me know if ye can bring the lass. We’ll have a nice lunch after to celebrate and be done in time for her to pick up her kids from school.”
Ian thumbed the screen to end the call and slouched into the stool’s low back, turning the mobile over and over in one hand without looking at it. What did he just agree to? He knew the risk, letting his attraction to Lara MacLaren cloud his judgement. Blane was asking, he reminded himself, not him. He tossed the mobile onto the table. Shite, that was a total rationalization.
But it worked.
So, should he call Lara, or go back out to Cairn Dubh? Her image flashed before his eyes, deciding him. After nearly kissing her, some things were best done in person. He stood and pocketed the device. He’d enjoy seeing her reaction when he invited her to a wedding.
****
Ian’s arrival at her door, as Lara finished putting away the groceries she’d picked up in town, surprised her. When she returned home, his truck had been missing. She figured he wanted to avoid her after what had happened on the stairs. She’d felt his desire for her, um…growing. And they’d nearly kissed, for God’s sake.
Thinking about it still made her cringe—and at the same time eager to feel his arms around her again. He had to be as confused as she by her conflicting impulses. Yet here he was—though he did look a trifle uncomfortable, standing on the front portico rather than just coming in through the kitchen as he usually did. What was going on? “What are you doing out here? Come in,” she invited. “I was just about to make some tea. I thought you’d gone back to your office in town.”
“I had, but something important came up. I need to ask you about it, and I thought it would go better in person.”
Lara frowned. “That sounds ominous.” She led him toward the kitchen.
“’Tis not.” He gave her a quick grin. “I have had a request from a friend,” he told her after she gestured for him to sit at the kitchen table and set about making tea.
Relief flooded her…and with it, something else…something heated. Sitting in her kitchen, Ian looked so perfectly at home, he made her ache. Made her want what she thought she’d never have again. Or not for years, anyway. But there he was, more gorgeous than any man should be and looking at her with an expression either amused or nervous—she couldn’t decide which—but which pinned her in place, breathless at the longing that overtook her. She forced herself to look away for a moment, then asked, “Your friend or mine?”
“Soon both, I hope,” he told her and straightened in his chair.
The electric kettle chirped, a cloud of steam escaping its spout. She poured some of the boiling water into the teapot to warm it, all the while trying to keep straight in her mind the steps to make a proper tea. Ian distracted her. She’d forgotten what it was like to feeling fluttery and light-headed around a man. Once, Angus had the power to steal her concentration like this. But that level of intensity between them had faded long ago. It made her uncomfortable, yet hopeful, too, that she was again capable of strong feelings other than grief and pain.
She forced herself through the steps: empty the warmed teapot. Spoon in the afternoon blend she’d found in the co-op. Add boiling water and set it aside to steep.
Ian hadn’t spoken, so she knew he watched her. Tingles zinged from her fingertips to her core. Did he like what he saw? She made the mistake of glancing at him over her shoulder. He’d settled back in the chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He looked deliciously…sprawled. It was such a masculine pose, confident and relaxed, she could barely tear her gaze away. He’d looked away as she turned. So he didn’t want her to know he was checking her out? Fine. She’d just take a second to check him out. Yet staring at him wasn’t helping her focus on her task. She turned back to the counter. Could she fit the top and tea cozy on the pot without dropping either of them? Something she did automatically and easily on her own suddenly seemed like an insurmountable challenge with him in the room. But she managed it with only a slight clink as the lid slid home, then faced Ian and smiled brightly.
“So what is the request?”
Ian cleared his throat and sat up.
Lara realized he was nervous. His pose had been just that…a pose. What in the world?
“I ken this is sudden,” he said, then hesitated a moment before adding, “but would you like to go with me tomorrow morning to…a wedding?”
Lara dropped into the chair opposite him and did her best to keep her mouth from falling open. “A what?”
The corner of Ian’s mouth quirked up. “My friend Blane and his new fiancée, Cassie, have suddenly decided to elope.” He filled her in on what Blane told him on the phone. “I promised to stand with him. He asked if you’d be willing to come and be a witness, too.”
“I…”
“If ye dinna wish to, I’ll try to find someone else, but most of their friends will be at their jobs. Blane asked for ye because ye dinna ken…they fear if the family finds out, they’ll try to stop them.”
Funny how much Ian’s accent thickened when his nerves got the best of him. Lara was tempted to leave him dangling just to hear him talk.
“He offered a nice lunch after, to be done in time for ye to collect the twins from school,” Ian added with a “what do you say?” lift to his shoulder, his eyebrows raised, and head tilted.
Since weddings-as-dates could be fraught with all sorts of Are we in a relationship or not? issues, her instincts were screaming, You’re out of your mind to even consider doing this. But Blane had asked for her, not Ian. This wasn’t going to be a date. Just a favor for a friend. She knew it shouldn’t, but somehow, the distinction disappointed her. After the way Ian held her on the stairs and seemed about to kiss her, she thought if he ever finally asked her out, it would mean more to him than a favor for a friend.
Still, it was a chance to spend time with Ian and perhaps learn more about him. “How can I say no to such an offer?” she replied, then smiled to soften her response. She didn’t really intend to sound flippant. Or maybe just a little. She told herself they had to start somewhere if they were going to get to know each other outside of the confines of this estate. An elopement would have to do. “I’d love to.”
She jumped up and went to pour the tea, suddenly nervous. She grabbed two mugs, thinking handling delicate teacups would not suit either one of them at the moment, though drinking tea from a mug was not done in Scotland. It was a very American habit she’d yet to break.
She paused to let the idea of going to a wedding with Ian soak in. Could she handle this? The weight of the mugs in her hand brought her focus back to making tea. Milk first, she recalled, moving to the refrigerator and silently talking herself through the process to keep her mind off the man behind her. Maybe not the sort of wedding she was used to. More a justice of the peace kind of thing, over quickly. She retrieved the small pitcher of milk she kept for tea and brought it back to the counter. No, nothing implied by Ian’s offer—or his friend Blane’s. Even though weddings sometimes put ideas of one sort or another in men’s minds. Wedding hookups were common in California. So were marriage proposals, not that she expected anything of the sort. But she couldn’t help wondering if she would have reason to thank Blane later for ending her long romantic�
�oh, hell, call it what it was…sexual dry spell.
Suddenly, Ian was behind her, so close she could feel his heat on her back through her shirt. He reached around her and placed his hand over hers just as her fingers found the top of the sugar bowl. “Milk, no sugar,” he told her, then added, “Please. Can I help you?”
Lara stilled. He only needed to wrap his arm across her breasts to cup her opposite shoulder and he could turn her into his kiss. She’d been ready on the stairs. Hell, she was ready now. She wished he would get on with it. She glanced aside at his mouth, then up at his eyes. He met her gaze, then dropped his to her lips before he pulled away and stepped back. Lara sighed softly and turned back to the counter. With a trembling hand, she lifted the tea cozy off the pot. “Pour yours, if you would, while I fix mine.”
Ian complied and took his mug back to the table without another word.
Lara stirred her tea, took a breath and leaned back against the counter, facing Ian. He sipped from his mug with a steadier hand than she possessed at the moment.
“What does one wear to an elopement?” she asked, trying for a light tone and hoping a typical female concern would set both of them more at ease.
Ian set down his mug and stared off into space as if giving her question serious consideration. “Something simple, I’d guess. I can’t say for sure. I’ve never attended one.”
The vein pulsing at his temple told her he’d been as affected by her nearness as she had by his. But if he wanted to play this cool, she could do cool. “Nor have I.” She shrugged, as if nothing had passed between them. “We’ll have to improvise.”
She moved to the table and sat. For a few moments, silence reigned as they sipped tea and looked everywhere but at each other. Her idea of improvising with the man across the table had little to do with clothing. The less of it, the better, in fact. She pressed a hand to her mouth to block the thoughts running through her head. The symbolic censorship worked for a moment, then a clock chimed from the library and she jumped up again. “I forgot what time it is. Are you hungry? I can make a sandwich.”
