Austin held the knife, ready to strike, but I was determined to prevent any bloodshed.
"I got upset. You stormed off. And made another mistake—you left your phone behind when you 'went to London.'" I pulled up my skirts and stepped around Austin. He tried to hold me back.
"Trust me," I whispered. "And back me up."
Austin let me go. I wanted to tell him that Nigel wouldn't hurt me. I wasn't so sure he wouldn't kill Austin, though. And I was taking no chances. The truth is, if a man catches his lover in bed with another man, in most cases, he'll kill the other man. If a woman catches her lover in bed with another person, she'll kill her lover. Statistically. We had that going for us. And I knew Nigel. He wouldn't kill me. Not in front of everyone. Not with me unarmed. It would make him look too weak.
I walked up to Nigel and carefully weighed what I wanted to say. As long as he still held that knife, there was an element of unpredictability. But at that moment, I knew I would rather die than live without Austin, if it came to that. And I knew Austin knew how to defend us. Stryker and Cam had taught him, and me, well. We weren't as defenseless as we looked. Austin was armed now.
"I didn't mean to look at your phone. I just wanted to reach you and hoped there might be a number…" I took a deep breath.
Nigel's Adam's apple bobbed. The knife trembled in his hand.
"There was so much more, Nigel," I said softly, letting the hurt show in my voice. "You know what was there." I didn't want to embarrass him in front of everyone by spelling it out. "I saw it all. Everything."
I touched his arm. "After that, all I wanted to do was escape the hurt and just run. And that, believe it or not, triggered everything. All that pain was the catalyst I needed to remember. To remember why we broke up." I had to force myself not to glance over my shoulder at Austin. I couldn't break my gaze with Nigel. It was too dangerous. "To remember what true love was and what it felt like. The memories came flooding back."
Nigel's face was a mask, but he paled.
I held out my hand. "Give me the knife."
His gaze hardened and he looked at Austin. Nigel's eyes narrowed when he saw the knife Austin now held, and his knuckles whitened around the knife. I knew he would stab Austin, if given the chance. I had to bring the real Nigel back and get rid of this hurt, angry stranger.
I was wearing my Scottish dress with its white scarf tucked into the neckline as a kind of collar. I pulled the scarf back and bared my chest. "If you want to take a life, take mine."
"No. Blair!" Austin took a step toward me, knife at the ready.
I held my hand up behind me to him to stop him. "Plunge that blade into my heart and stop it beating. Take my life, Nigel. That's the only way I'll ever stop loving Austin."
The crowd gasped, spellbound. And to be honest, I was so scared that my mouth was dry and my heart was pounding. Crazily, I was also proud of my pretty speech. Just behind me, Austin remained poised to spring, held back only by the force of my will and his trust in me.
Nigel's hands shook. He hesitated. After what seemed like an eternity, he slowly handed me the knife. Austin rushed forward to grab him. I intercepted him and stepped into his arms. He held me close, running his hands over my hair and whispering words of love and relief.
The crowd broke into deafening applause. If they hadn't already been standing, they would have given us a standing ovation. The applause went on and on. If someone yelled "encore," though, I was going to club them. My nerves were shot.
Flora was finally able to signal security. As they rushed in to subdue Nigel, I pried free of Austin and intercepted them. Nigel had continued to stand there, making no move to escape. A broken, stunned man. So unlike the confident academic he was.
Austin came up beside me, giving me a questioning look. I held him back from Nigel. "It's all right. He wasn't himself. It's over now. Give me a few minutes alone with Nigel? We still need closure."
It was ironic, really. Wanting to give Nigel closure in the first place was what had led to all this.
Security shooed the crowds back. I talked to the guards nearest us, who were swooping in to usher us away and take Nigel into custody.
I shook my head and looked between them and Flora. "No one was hurt," I said to the guards. "It was just a simple misunderstanding. A lover's quarrel. Get us all out of here to someplace private where we can talk and explain."
They led us to a private security office, where I explained that I didn't want to press any charges. Austin, reluctantly, backed me up, and Flora followed suit. In the end, I convinced them not to call the police and to let me talk to Nigel in private before they escorted him off mall property.
I was left alone with him in a small room where they held shoplifters and the like while they waited for the authorities to arrive. It was very much like a police interrogation room in feel.
"We'll be right outside the door if you need us, ma'am," the head of security told us. Austin was right there with him.
I nodded. "Thank you. Give us ten minutes. This won't take long."
I waited until the door closed before I took a seat at the table opposite Nigel. I folded my hands in front of me to keep myself from doing something I shouldn’t. Slapping Nigel, for instance.
"What were you thinking out there? You could have gotten yourself killed, or done something stupid and attacked Austin. He was armed. He's trained. He's bigger than you are. He would have taken you out. You could have been locked up." I hadn't realized I was so angry at him still.
"So you do care?" He looked surprised and pleased. Beaten, but pleased.
"Of course I care." I let out an exasperated sigh. "I'll always care about you. You were a part of my life for too long not to."
"But you don't love me anymore?" He sounded resigned.
I shook my head. "I don't love you anymore. Why do you even care whether I love you or not?" My anger was quickly burning out. I was genuinely curious. "All the women you've had when we're apart—"
He looked down at his hands, also folded on the table in front of him, avoiding my gaze. "That was just sexting and sex. That wasn't love."
My eyes filled with tears. "Just sex. That's how you see it? That's not how I see it."
He looked sharply at me. "You mean you really didn't cheat on me? Not ever?"
"Not ever," I said. "Not even sexting with any other men." I paused. "You went off to London to see another woman. That's why I'm so confused."
He winced. "You knew?"
"I suspected. So why all this?"
"Because no one else is you," he said. "The rest were all just…entertainment. Just fun. We're meant to be together. We complement each other—"
I wasn't buying it. He was in denial. "But you were with me." I tried to sound as reasonable as I could. But I really couldn't understand.
"I was with you," he said. "But you weren't with me. Even when you couldn't remember him, you were his." He hitched his thumb over his shoulder to the door that Austin waited behind.
I didn't dispute him. I couldn't. I just hadn't realized Nigel was that perceptive.
"You were right. I didn't want you to remember him. I tried to get you to fall in love with me again. But I knew it was futile from the beginning." He sighed and slumped. He looked so pathetic that I almost wanted to put my arms around him and comfort him. But only almost.
"So I went into town to have a little fun with a woman I know. She called. It was spur of the moment. She was in town on vacation. I thought it would ease my vanity. Make me feel better." He snorted. "I came back to find him whisking you away by sea like a gallant privateer. Bloody hell, Blair, that made me furious. I just snapped. I wanted revenge. I wanted you back. I…"
He ran his fingers through his hair and placed his hands on the table in front of him again. He looked up into my eyes. "It's really over, isn't it?"
I covered his hands with mine. "It was a wonderful, long run we had. But yes. It's over, Nigel. It's really over. Get help. Get some counseling and get you
r head on straight again. Go back to being the guy I fell in love with and find yourself a woman who will appreciate you. Promise me?"
Austin was waiting for me when I came out. He pulled me into his arms as the security people escorted Nigel away. "I could have killed him. It took everything I had not to punch the shit out of him, at the very least."
"I appreciate the sentiment," I said. "But the last thing I wanted was you incarcerated and kept from me. We still have more promos to do. And no one is taking my dream wedding away from me now. Not even you, mister."
He laughed. "So it's all about the wedding now, is it? And I'm back to being an accessory, half a couple on a cake?"
"Oh, I think you're going to need to take a more active role than that. You're going to be eye candy at the altar, too." I leaned in and whispered in his ear, "I'm depending on you to make the wedding night something special."
His grin deepened. "And what about Nigel? Will he bother us again? Is it over?"
Funny. His question seemed like an echo of Nigel's.
"It's over." I drew a deep breath. "He's going to get help."
Chapter 10
Blair
Inverness
Jamie was filming the upcoming season in the wilds of the Highlands near Inverness, in and around Loch Ness and Cairngorms National Park. The exact location was a moving target and on a strictly need-to-know basis for security reasons. Not that the locals didn't find out and post about it from time to time.
Austin and I were on standby to film our promos, waiting for the appropriate gap in filming. Things, as is often the case in the entertainment industry, were running behind schedule. With fans eagerly anticipating the upcoming season, the stress level was understandably ratcheting up.
Austin, the guys, and I had hotel rooms in the Inverness area. Austin and I were waiting for the call. We had to be ready to head out at a moment's notice. We were under strict orders not to be more than an hour away from any potential filming location, which kept the two of us tied fairly closely to Inverness and sobriety. For me, it was a bit like being on call in the emergency room. Theoretically, it put a damper on the fun for Austin and me, but not on the rest of the guys. To tell the truth, I was happy not to be included in the guys' fun. They headed out on a mission to sample all the distilleries in Scotland. An ambitious goal, it must be said. Fortunately, they hired a driver to take them around.
I had expected to see Beth as soon as we arrived in Inverness. I was eager to see her and get a tour of Malcolm's studio. In my calls with Beth, I'd heard nothing but his praises. I expected her to want to get together and engage in a little girl talk. But Beth, still giddy with an apparently blossoming romance, was too busy working on my dress. Some of the show's secrecy had rubbed off on her.
She refused to send pictures of her progress or even discuss the design. Too many poachers. You couldn't trust anyone.
Apparently, not even me, the bride.
"Everyone wants to get an advance preview of this dress. Everyone. If it leaks, we'll have to start over, and we simply don't have time. I can't have you stopping by and risk you seeing something you shouldn't. You're not very good at keeping secrets, Blairest."
"Not good at keeping secrets?" I was indignant. "Have you ever heard me divulge any confidential patient information, for example?"
"Oh, but that's not the juicy stuff, is it?" She said something to someone in the background and then returned her attention to me. "Later," she said. "You can come by the studio for the final fitting and not before. We'll give you the grand tour then."
Her "we'll" already had a proud tinge of possession to it. She was clearly in her element and surrounded by her passions—Malcolm and designing costumes. I couldn't remember her sounding happier. "Join us for dinner!" I said. "Come out and see the city with us. Bring Malcolm."
"No time, Blairest," she said. "No time. Working around the clock, we'll be lucky to finish this dress. Have you any idea of all the hand-beading and sewing?"
"No," I said, trying to keep a straight face. "None at all. You won't share the slightest hint of the design with me. But now we know it has beading—"
"Hush! Stop saying that out loud," she said, laughing, but still serious.
Austin and I did what sightseeing we could around Inverness—Inverness Castle, St. Andrew's Cathedral, the maritime museum, and Abertarff House. We went to Culloden and were duly solemn as we toured the battlefield. The Battle of Culloden lasted barely an hour. Hard to believe such an ill-fated slaughter changed the course of Highland history. So many things went wrong that needn't have. If only different choices had been made…
Or so that was what I had always believed. If only Charles Stuart and his Irish generals hadn't been so eager to go to battle and picked such a poor site…
Eh. Turned out that was just one of many myths and misconceptions about Culloden. Along with others, like Culloden was a triumph of modern fighting and weaponry over the wild Highland methods and old-fashioned swords—a high-tech British army meeting the archaic Highland clans. None of that was true. Many Lowlander regiments fought in the battle along with Scottish and Irish soldiers who were in the service of the French, and were some of the most effective Jacobite units in the battle.
Contrary to popular belief, the Jacobite troops were well armed with French and Spanish muskets. The way the battle was fought, with the British charging and using swords at close quarters, some historians claimed it was "a triumph of British swords over Scottish muskets." And not the other way around.
Drummossie Moor was not chosen as the battlefield by Charles Stuart or anyone. It was closest to headquarters at Culloden House, which could defend the road to Inverness. The Jacobites needed to protect Inverness and their supply chain to survive. They were a highly conventional army, drilled in the methods of the day, and would not have been adequate to fight a guerilla battle. And on the day of the battle, the weather forced the fighting to Drummossie Moor, away from a slightly less boggy site that was the best of three sites the commanders had to choose from.
Bad weather. The lesser evil of bad battlefield choices. Even soldiers who were "sleeping in" at Culloden House couldn't be roused and deployed in time to fight. It sounded a lot like modern-day troubles. Nothing really changes, does it?
We visited the clan graves. There weren't many MacDougalls involved at Culloden—one brother of the clan chief and some clansmen. The clan chief and bulk of the clan didn't take part in the rebellion.
But our visits were tinged with the sense of being on call and the fact they could be cut short at any time. And, unlike those soldiers of old, there was no sleeping in for Austin and me. Even though the consequences for doing so were somewhat less dire. We were up with the sun, ready to head to location to start filming at eight.
We weren't given scripts. Since we weren't actors, and the scrapes we'd gotten ourselves in and out of naturally, like the showdown with Nigel in Glasgow, were already so popular, it was decided we'd ad-lib. I had my doubts about how well that would work, but I left it to the professionals.
Finally, we got the call to be on-site at a location on Loch Ness. Flora sent a production assistant to pick us up and drive us to the shoot. Austin and I headed out with our driver, excited to see Connor and Sam again and finally do our shoot.
The day was supposed to be warm by Highland standards for August—upper seventies. Which they gave in degrees Celsius and I had to translate on my phone. The weather wasn't much different than Seattle. Though we tended to hit the eighties this time of year.
When we arrived, the filming site was about as unglamorous as anything you could imagine. The setup consisted of trailers for the stars, tents and camp chairs for the rest. A breakfast buffet was set up on a folding table outside. Temporary parking in a dusty field. Hair and makeup in a trailer of its own. Costume had a trailer. And now, for the day, I had my own camera crew following me around as I "became" Elinor.
A tall, thin woman dressed in yoga pants and a white hood
ie with the Jamie logo, unzipped nearly to her navel, met us on the path to the makeup and hair trailer. She wore nothing beneath that hoodie. That much was obvious. And even though I'm a thoroughly hetero woman, and she wasn't large breasted, it was hard not to stare. She had very nice, perky breasts. And the air was cold.
I looked at Austin out of the side of my eye. How was he managing to keep his eyes on her face? How did the men on the crew handle it?
The woman pulled me into an enthusiastic hug that caught me off guard. "Blair!" Her voice, though enthusiastic, was a whisper, a rush of air with very little use of the vocal cords. But still distinctly Sam's.
It took a minute for it to sink in that this woman was Samantha Roberts without makeup. That I knew her. I was, I guess, not so indistinguishable from myself. She had recognized me immediately. What did that say about me, I wondered?
Sam looked as distinctly un-Sam/Elinor-like as I had ever seen her, even in those awful paparazzi shots of stars without makeup. Still beautiful, but without any hair and makeup magic, a gentle spray of freckles stood out on her nose. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, doing nothing to accent her face. Her cheekbones weren't quite as high, her mouth not quite as full and her eyes not quite as large. Truthfully, she could have walked past many of her most ardent fans unnoticed.
"Sam?" I hugged her back, faking like I'd recognized her all along. "I wasn't expecting you to greet us!"
Austin came up behind us. "So this is Samantha Roberts in the wild. Just as beautiful as always."
Sam laughed softly and broke away from me to hug Austin. "Austin, you flatterer. I guess I'll forgive you your white lie." She pulled away from him as the assistant came up to us. "I need hair and makeup badly, don't I? I can't go onscreen like this. Who will recognize me?" Still speaking in the strange whisper, she waved her hands over her body.
She made a valid point. Already I had almost walked right past her.
"No one walks onscreen looking like the glamorous Elinor without a lot of help."
Simply Austin (The Jet City Kilt Series) (Volume 4) Page 10
