The running gave her time to process. Could things like this really be real? Could he really have kept his secret all these years, apart from the occasional rumor? The isolation would certainly help…but what was going to happen when he got hurt and needed a doctor, or needed to go to hospital. Would his blood tests be normal? His X-rays? If it was genetic, did that mean there were hundreds or thousands of his relatives living throughout Britain…throughout the world? Alex had a royal connection…were there other royals who were also—she fumbled for a suitable word—shapeshifters?
I’m sitting right on top of the biggest story of all time, she thought. Any sane reporter would dial the LA office and scream code red, and get a whole news crew here, stat. And yet she didn’t have even the slightest intention of doing it. Not to this guy. Not when he’d sacrificed any chance at a normal life to keep his secret. It was heartbreaking. He shouldn’t have to be alone….
He should be with you, you mean, a little voice at the back of her mind teased her.
Rachel flushed. No! Not necessarily! She’d just been thinking that it would be nice if a man as gorgeous and obviously thoughtful as Alex could be with someone. That was all. Nothing more. Nothing to see here!
She focused on her running for a moment, enjoying the scrunch of leaves under her feet. No more thinking; just running. No more thoughts of Alex and those eyes, or they way they’d shone when he’d first seen her. No more remembering the way he’d pushed her back against the bureau, or the way he’d said he wanted her.
He wanted her. But clearly, he couldn’t ever be with her. For about a million reasons, starting with the little things like him being minor royalty and living on the wrong side of the world, and finishing with the big ones, like the way he grew fur and claws. The way he’d sent her to bed was a pretty clear sign that he’d already closed off the idea of them—
There was a rustle behind her and the sound of feet—too many to be human. And then, in a flash of gray and white, the wolf was in front of her, wheeling around to face her as it stopped. Rachel pulled up short, not six feet away from it, and they stood there staring at each other.
Its eyes looked like Alex’s, in one light. Then, when it turned its head, they glinted gold. It stood there panting, watching her and, if it hadn’t been ridiculous, she would have said it was smiling.
Suddenly, it erupted into movement, raw power and trained muscle launching it forward like a furry missile. It went ten feet, then stopped again and turned to look at her.
She got the message.
She ran straight for it and the wolf immediately took off again. Within seconds, she was having to run, not jog, to keep up with it, and it knew every inch of the trail. It leaped over fallen trees and squeezed under bushes. It had better grip on the leaves and dirt than her expensive running shoes could ever give her.
But she’d been running for a long time, back in LA, and she had the leg length and the raw determination. She pushed herself forward, sprinting when she had to, and managed to stay close to him. Twice, she got so close she could have almost reached out and touched the tip of his full, bushy tail. She was panting and sweating, but the adrenaline was flooding through her system, every sense heightened, ever footstep making her feel alive. The air was burning in her lungs but she was heady with excitement and…happiness. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been happy. Not good day at work, celebrate with a cocktail happy, but genuinely, infectiously, grinningly happy. Playing chase through the woods…it was like being a kid again. It was so simple…and yet she couldn’t imagine doing it with any of the guys she’d dated back in LA. They’d think it was dumb and a waste of time. They wouldn’t understand the simple joy of running like this. And how much better must it be for Alex, experiencing all this in a wolf’s body?
For a second, she was actually jealous.
They ran on and on, winding through the forest and—she thought—coming back towards the castle. The wolf led her over a river, showing her which stepping stones to trust. As she climbed across, taking her time, it dived in and swam back to her, just its head above the water, then shook itself off in a blizzard of water when they reached land. She stood there, hands on her knees, giggling and panting at the same time and it felt fantastic.
They ran until her legs felt like shaky rubber, until her chest had no more air to give. She didn’t want to give in but, when she finally stumbled, the wolf stopped and turned to her.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I can’t—I’m—” She leaned against a tree. “Just give me a minute.”
The wolf sat on its haunches, watching her.
“Can you change?” she asked as her breathing slowed down.
The wolf cocked its head to one side.
“I want to see,” she said. “If you’ll let me.”
The wolf stared at her for so long she wondered if she’d said something wrong, or if maybe it couldn’t understand her. But then it raised itself up onto its legs, its head lowered, and—
It seemed to start with the legs. That was the main thing she remembered, the hind legs growing longer and thicker. There was a sort of ripple, as if its fur was blowing in the wind, and with each ripple the fur got shorter and the skin beneath it changed color. It all happened so fast that, when she dragged her eyes further up the body, Alex was already standing up, the last of the fur disappearing into his forearms. She was in time to see just a hint of claws retracting, his teeth, for a second, just slightly too long for a human. And then it was over and he was standing there in front of her.
Naked.
Don’t look down don’t look down don’t look dow—
Oh, wow, he’s hung, too—
She snapped her gaze back up to his face to find him looking right at her. She felt herself reddening. For his part, he seemed quite brazen about it—but then, now she came to think about it, he’d been naked the whole time. Even the previous night, he’d only been wearing a robe.
“So, the clothes…they don’t magically reappear? I wondered about that.”
He shook his head. “No. They don’t magically reappear.”
She swallowed and tried not to look at the wide, curving slabs of his pecs. Because they led her eyes inevitably to his abs, and they in turn dragged her gaze down to the lines of his Adonis belt and they led down to—
“Because in movies they always reappear,” she said, trying to unlock her gaze. “I’m sure if this was a movie, you’d be wearing pants.”
“It’s not a movie,” he said in his soft, Scottish burr.
“I know.”
“That’s why I’m not wearing any trousers.”
“I know.”
“Or anything at all.”
“I know.”
“Are you going to stop staring?”
“I’m trying!” She closed her eyes, turned away and looked back again. When she turned back and looked again, he was still standing there, a smile on his face. Couldn’t you at least put your hand over it? she wondered, blushing furiously. Although she wasn’t certain his hand, big as it was, would cover everything. Just look at his face. Look at his face and stop thinking about it.
Thick and long and that was only half-hard—
His face, Rachel!
She coughed and looked him in the eye. Which was a mistake, because that left her adrift in gorgeous, shining gray pools she hadn’t a hope of escaping from. And he was close, now. She didn’t know if he’d taken a step forward or she had, but they were within touching distance. The forest seemed to fade out, the birdsong very far away and their breathing very loud.
His gaze was so intense, his eyes seeming to draw all rational thought from her brain…she found herself leaning in, and that only made him seem taller. She lifted her chin so that she could keep looking up into his eyes and it hit her that this is what I’d do if I wanted to be kissed.
She nervously licked her lips. And so was that.
But she didn’t. Right? That would be a really bad idea for all the reasons
she’d thought of earlier. All those reasons that didn’t seem very important, right at that moment.
He lowered his head a little, his own lips parting. “Rachel,” he said, and it was a growl that raised the hairs on the back of her neck, that vibrated through her in a way that made her heady.
She closed her eyes. She could feel the muscled bulk of him leaning closer, closer—
And then he pulled away. When she opened her eyes, he was standing there with his own eyes shut, the muscles in his forearms straining, his hands in fists. “Don’t,” he said. “I—” He took a staggering step backwards. “I nearly lost it then.” He shook his head. “I told you, I can’t be close to you. Running was fine, but not…close.”
He turned away. A sense of loss like nothing she’d ever experienced welled up inside her. She could feel something slipping away, something she might never get back. “Wait—”
“We’re not far from the castle,” he said. “I’ll get dressed and you can do your interview. But first, I’ll make you breakfast. Kedgeree.”
He was already walking, and the muscular curves of his rump were so firm they almost made her ache. She hurried after him, wanting to ask, why? Why can’t we? What would be so bad if you…lost it? But she could see from the set of his shoulders that he’d already closed down, shutting her out—at least for now. So she settled for, “What’s kedgeree?”
Chapter 4
Kedgeree turned out to be smoked haddock, chopped boiled eggs, rice and spices cooked with cream, and it was delicious.
When she’d showered, put on her suit and spent a half hour coaxing her honey-blonde locks into something approaching a style, she set up the camera. She figured she’d shoot him in the huge living room, with all its gray stone and velvet. Her news editor would go nuts for that. Authentic British history!
She’d just pulled two leather armchairs into position when Alex appeared. He was wearing black suit pants and an eggshell-blue shirt, with a leather belt and shoes that looked handmade. It was the first time she’d seen him in anything other than a robe and he suddenly looked…rich. And absolutely edibly gorgeous.
“What?” he asked, and she realized she was staring.
“Nothing,” she said. “Sit down.” The shirt was open at the collar, revealing a tantalizing slice of muscled chest. Focus, Rachel. “I’ll just ask you a series of questions. Take your time to answer them—there’s no hurry. I’ll edit out any pauses.”
He blinked and then shook his head. “I always thought people on TV were just…really clever.”
“Nope. Just editing.”
She launched into a series of fluff questions and Alex did very well, saying all the right things about the happy couple. His low Scottish burr and his looks, combined with that shirt on that chest would have the women drooling.
She finished her list of questions. Then she asked some more, just to make sure she’d covered everything. Then she made up some others, because she knew that, when the interview was finished, she was going to have to leave and she knew she was never going to see him again.
When she eventually ran dry, she turned the camera on herself, shot her opening and then told him she need to shoot some cutaways.
“Cutaways?”
“Where I nod seriously and look as if I’m listening. Then we dub your voice over the top, as if I’m listening to you.”
He blinked again. “That’s all faked?”
“Watch.” And she launched into her standard repertoire of nods, head tilts and pursed lips (she was especially proud of her pursed lips). Except he kept trying to make her laugh and sometimes succeeded. She did an edit on her laptop and showed him the result, and then she couldn’t spin it out any longer.
“Well,” she said. “Okay. I guess that’s it, then.”
They both looked at each other.
He held out his hand and she tentatively put her own hand out to take it. “It’s okay?” she asked. “Touching?”
He nodded, but his jaw was set. And when they shook hands she could feel something like an electric shock rippling through her arm, just a flicker of gold in his eyes. He gripped her hand tighter and tighter, his eyes locked on hers, and she felt her heart swell and lift—
He swallowed and looked away. “I’ll call the shore and have one of the fishermen come out to pick you up.”
She understood why. She knew that hers was probably the first human face he’d seen in years, and how far he’d come in just a day, to spend all this time with her. But that didn’t make it any less painful.
He walked her to the door. As they reached it, she turned to him. “The internet,” she said suddenly.
He looked at her. “I’ve heard of it,” he said. “No, I don’t have it here. I barely have a phone line.”
“But in the village…there’ll be somewhere that will?”
Alex ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sure there will.”
“Can you show me?”
His face fell.
“Only—Only I need to file this in the next few hours.” Her breath was suddenly catching in her chest. “And I might need to plead with some local business or something to let me use their connection and you know everyone—”
“I know no one—”
“But you give money to the village. They respect you. They all hate me.” She raised pleading eyes to him. “Please?” Please don’t let this be goodbye!
He shook his head. “Rachel, I can’t be with you. This can’t turn into anything. It’s not an option.”
“I’m not scared of you. Not anymore.”
“It’s not just that. It’s…complicated. It’s not safe.”
“Safe?”
He sighed. “I can’t. Rachel, we can’t be together.”
“Then forget that. Just help me. I really do need to file this story and they really do all hate me.”
“I’m sure they don’t,” he said tiredly.
She bit her lip.
“Rachel, I haven’t been off the island in almost two years!”
“Then maybe it’s time you started. Look, I promise to keep my distance. Cross my heart.”
He looked at her for a long time…and nodded.
***
There was a boat house and, just as he’d said, the rowing boat looked as if it hadn’t been used in a few years. But it was watertight and with Alex’s powerful arms they were soon speeding across the loch. Watching his muscles flex as he rowed was approximately a thousand million times more engaging than when she’d she’d sat watching the fisherman, but she still found her thoughts drifting. She knew this was only a temporary reprieve. Once she set foot on shore, that was it…she was out of his life.
You were never in it, you fool, she thought. You shared one kiss and one nearly kiss and that’s it. We can’t be together, he’d said, and he’d sounded so final about it—that was a decision he’d made a long time ago, she suspected, that he’d always be alone, and he wasn’t going to change his mind now, for her.
***
She kept her word when they reached the village, always staying at least a few paces away from him. He didn’t seem as disconcerted by her, though, as by everything else—cars and people and the TV screens in a store window.
“You do have a TV, right?”
He looked at her and then looked guilty away.
“Why not?!” she asked. “You’re holed up there all day, every day…you should be the internet king of the world. Broadband! Two hundred channels of TV! The world could come to you!”
Alex looked at the street scene in front of him. Lovers walking hand in hand. People talking. Nothing out of the ordinary, and maybe that was the point. “I don’t want to know about the world,” he said at last. “Sometimes it’s better if you don’t know what you’re missing.”
He was staring at one particular spot across the street and it took her a moment to follow his gaze. A boy, bouncing a football as he walked to the park with his dad.
Alex tore his gaze away and dre
w in a long breath, then turned and walked on. Rachel ran to catch up, her heart breaking for him. But the look on his face told her he didn’t want sympathy.
“You do get some news, though?” she asked. “I mean, you know who the president is and stuff?”
He relaxed a little. “Obviously. Bush.”
She stopped in her tracks. “You’re joking. No, seriously, you are joking. Right?”
***
She’d expected everyone in the village to go nuts when the mysterious billionaire lord finally showed himself, but everyone ignored him. Then she realized that no one had a clue who he was—he visited so rarely that people didn’t know his face. He could die tomorrow, she thought, holed up in that castle, and no one would even know.
Alex sweet-talked the library into letting her use its connection and she talked him into letting her buy him coffee while the file uploaded. She watched the progress bar climbing slowly and wished it would go slower.
And then it was over. Outside the library, he shook her hand one last time and turned to go.
“I’ll come and see you off,” she said.
“No. You don’t need to.” His voice left no room for argument.
“I just remembered! I forgot something at the castle! I left my—”
Alex pulled the hairbrush she’d deliberately left in the bathroom from his pocket and handed it to her.
“This doesn’t have to be it,” she said. “We can work something out. Tell me what would happen if you—”
“No!” He nearly grabbed her arms and then thought better of it, holding up his hands instead to keep her back. “Rachel, we can’t. This does have to be it.” Then, his voice softer, “I’m sorry.”
And then he was walking off toward the boat, and he didn’t look back.
The Reporter and the Billionaire Scottish Wolf Lord (He Wanted Me Pregnant!) Page 3
