But she also had no desire to stick her hand in a cage with a freaking wild animal.
Milly crouched down, a wave of fatigue crashing over her for reasons that almost certainly had nothing to do with the overproduction of white blood cells that were currently killing her.
As if to offer some reassurance, the wolf in the cage whimpered, bowing its head in a way Milly immediately recognized as universal canine language for “pet me.” Maybe it wasn’t a wolf at all, she thought hopefully.
Maybe she’d been so startled that she overreacted, and the “wolf” was just one of those dogs that only looked like a wolf. Like a malamute or a husky.
A huge husky, she thought, as she gingerly patted it on the head, inserting the tips of two fingers through the cage bars.
The maybe wolf-like dog responded to her tentative two-fingered pet affectionately. Pushing its head into her hand as if to say, “See? I don’t bite. You should pet me some more.”
Milly laughed. Honestly, the wolf-dog didn’t seem scary at all. And with a little maneuvering, she carefully edged her other hand just past her wrist between the thick wires of the cage. With a reassuring smile at her new furry friend, Milly slowly stretched her hand and forearm a little farther in toward the thumb drive. “Okay, just grabbing this—”
With almost lightning speed, the formerly gentle wolf-dog dropped all pretense of tameness and launched itself at her stretched out arm, sharp teeth clamping down on the fleshy part below her elbow. It happened so fast, Milly didn’t feel a thing for the first few seconds other than irrational disappointment in the wolf-dog for turning on her.
This was followed immediately by crushing pain, and Milly screamed as she desperately tried to shake the creature’s mouth from her arm. But the wolf-dog held on for several more seconds, its silver eyes bright and resolute. And despite the huge adrenaline spike, Milly simply wasn’t strong enough to pull her arm from the wolf-dog’s firm bite.
But just as she was beginning to wonder if she would be forced to watch the creature tear off her arm and eat it in front of her like something out of a bad horror movie, it let her go. So suddenly, she fell back on her butt.
Milly cut off screaming to stare at the unblinking animal. She was done pretending it wasn’t a wolf. And she really didn’t understand why it had bit her and then let her go.
But she wasn’t about to spend too much time second guessing what had just happened. Instead, she ran. Scrambled clumsily to her feet while clutching her injured arm to her chest and ran like a bat out of hell back to the relative safety of her car.
Chapter Four
“Oh, my God, Milly! Are you okay?!”
Tara jumped out of the hard plastic seat and ran across the ER’s linoleum floor as soon as Milly entered the front lobby.
“I’m fine. It was just a few stitches and a rabies shot.” Milly held out her gauze-wrapped arm. “See, all fixed. You didn’t have to come all the way out here. I only left that message because I didn’t want you to worry about me when you got home and saw I wasn’t there.”
“Oh honey, don’t say that! Of course I came! First that awful cancer diagnosis and now this. Oh, God, this is all so messed up…” Tara looked stricken for a second, but then she grabbed Milly by the shoulders and demanded, “Why the hell were you in Faoltiarn?! That’s the middle of nowhere! What if you hadn’t been able to make it to the closest hospital? Anything could have happened to you!”
“Well, it’s not exactly in the middle of nowhere. And I thought it was kind of charming…” Milly stopped when she saw the way her bestie was glaring at her. “Anyway, I only went because that’s where Iain’s cottage is located—he goes for these, like, weird monthly camping trips. And he needed me to drive over and pick up a thumb drive for the development team.”
Tara’s brow bunched. “Wait, your boss has a home in Faoltiarn?”
“I know, right? I don’t get remote mountain retreat vibe off him either. But I guess he grew up there…and, you know, keeps a wolf in his home office. Crazy, right? But the nurse who bandaged my arm said their clinic gets what appear to be wolf bites at least once or twice a year.”
“Wolf bites!? Okay, so you went to your boss’s house and got bitten by a wolf…” Tara frowned ugly, like she was having a hard time processing what Milly had just told her.
Milly didn’t blame her. She was still having a hard time processing it herself, and she’d had three hours to sit and go over what had happened multiple times while waiting to be seen. “Sorry for the wait, dearie,” the nurse practitioner who’d stitched her up had said. “Full moon nights can be absolute madness ‘round here.”
“But how do you feel now?” Tara asked, eyeing Milly’s bandaged arm.
“Fine,” Milly assured her. “It barely hurts anymore. And the nurse said I was lucky. It was a pretty clean bite, so it might not even leave a scar.”
“Okay, okay, good…” But Tara continued to eye her with sharp worry. “But you could have been hurt. Really, really hurt. Have there been any…side effects?”
“Side effects?” Milly repeated not understanding the question. “Like what? They only gave me Ibuprofen. And the shot should have taken care of everything else—”
She cut off when Tara suddenly engulfed her in a bear hug. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter. I’m just so relieved you’re all right. So relieved…”
The hug kind of hurt her bandaged arm, but Milly didn’t try to disengage. And she found herself working hard not to cry. She didn’t realize how much she’d needed a hug until she was wrapped in her much taller friend’s comforting embrace. And no, Tara hadn’t come up from Liverpool to make her a cup of tea last night. But showing up here this morning…all was forgiven. And despite her diagnosis, Milly counted herself blessed to have such a wonderful friend.
They stood like that for a long time before finally agreeing it was time to leave. There was some debate about whether Milly was ok to drive herself all the way back to Edinburgh, or if she should go with Tara in her car. But Tara was already running nearly an hour late for work, and Milly didn’t want to make her any later.
Plus, she couldn’t just leave the company car parked at this rural hospital. Iain aside, most of the people who worked at AlgoFortune were friendly and easy to get along with. Milly didn’t want to inconvenience at least two unlucky co-workers who needed the car by leaving it an hour outside Edinburgh. Especially because there was a distinct possibility it would get clamped—which was kind of like a triangular form of booting—before anyone could pick it up.
The good news was that Tara needn’t have worried. Milly made good time back to Edinburgh, and her arm only twinged a little during the drive. The bad news…it was raining by the time she got back to the city.
Not that this was unusual weather for Scotland. But since she’d only taken her wallet and phone for what was supposed to be a quick pick-up at Iain’s cottage, she didn’t have an umbrella.
Milly was seated in the parked car, contemplating the fastest route into her flat, when a loud rapping sounded on the driver side window. She jumped and very nearly screamed.
Then the driver side door was yanked open, revealing…Iain! Seriously. Milly squinted up at him in disbelief through her glasses.
Her boss stood on the curb outside her apartment building holding a giant black umbrella. She felt certain he could fit an entire family under that thing.
And as for Iain, he looked...well, not up to his usual standards. His familiar red plaid kilt was gone, replaced by a pair of dark gray sweatpants and a green t-shirt she would never have guessed he owned, much less wore outside the confines of his Edinburgh apartment where anyone could see him.
Not only that, his usual neatly styled hair was mussed and disheveled as if he’d rolled right out of bed and driven straight here. No, definitely not up to his usual standards.
And though Iain’s hair was drying, the rain must have caught him off guard as he was getting out of his Jaguar XJ. Because his green tee w
as just about plastered to his body; highlighting muscles she’d guessed at underneath all those suits and button-up shirts but didn’t know were there for sure.
But he had them. Oh man, did he ever. Rippling muscles that made her wonder what it would be like to feel them with her bare hands, pressing up against her skin…
“Come on then, Millicent! Stop gawking and get out the bloody car!”
Milly’s cheeks heated. She hadn’t realized how openly she was ogling him until he snapped at her. She quickly scrambled through the open door, scooting as far beneath the umbrella as she could without touching him. And, oh wow…he smelled good.
The scent was much too subtle to be cologne. It had to be his natural one; a heady combination of pine trees, moss, and crisp lake air that made her think of castle ruins and bagpipes. A mountain. He smelled like a mountain. To be specific. He smelled like the Highlands. Like Faoltiarn.
Why hadn’t Milly ever noticed how good he smelled?
The sound of sniffing brought her head up. Iain’s nose was flared as if he, too, was taking in a scent. But unlike Milly, he didn’t like what he was smelling. “Was someone…” he sniffed again, his eyebrows pulling down so hard that a crease appeared, “…holding you?”
Milly had no idea what he was talking about until she remembered his super sensitive nose. “Ah…yes. My roommate came to see me at the hospital.”
“Your roommate,” he repeated, voice flat. “You never mentioned you lived with someone.”
“You never asked,” she gently pointed out. “Might I ask why you’re here?”
Iain stiffened, clearly not used to being interrogated by her. “When I came down from the mountain this morning, I found the thumb drive in my home office. It was covered in blood. I washed it off, drove it into the office myself, and when I saw you weren’t there, I came here to check on you. See if you were all right. Are you?” he asked.
She tilted her head up at him. Iain one of the most self-absorbed individuals she’d ever met, had driven all the way to her flat in Holyrood? Just to check to make sure she was okay?
Why hadn’t he just called? Or texted—her mental questions cut off when she suddenly realized why he might not have wanted to do something as official as calling or texting.
Her lips thinned. “You didn’t have to come here, Iain. I’m fine, and I’m not planning to spend the short amount of time I have left suing you.”
Iain’s expression remained static, registering neither guilt nor denial. But after a beat, he said, “I’ll tell Linda in HR to include a generous bonus in your next paycheck. For your…inconvenience.”
It wasn’t quite an apology, but it was better than anything she ever expected to get from him.
“Thanks,” she said. Honestly, she’d rather he gave her those two extra weeks he was making her work. But a bonus was nice, too. Especially if it meant she could travel a little longer before figuring out the hospice stuff.
That should have been the end of the conversation. But instead, they both continued to stand there, rain pitter-pattering against the top of his ridiculously large umbrella. And after a few more seconds, Milly cleared her throat and said, “Iain?”
“Aye, Millicent?”
“I know you aren’t a fan of hearing other people’s opinions. Especially mine. But I really think you should reconsider having a wolf as a pet. They’re magnificent creatures, and no matter what you may have seen on shows like Game of Thrones, they’re not meant to be cooped up like that. I mean, is that even legal? Anyway, I’m not surprised it bit me. Poor thing is probably going crazy in that cage.”
She peered closely at him to gauge his reaction and was surprised to find his eyes glittering with amusement. “Let’s see if I’m clear on this. My wolf bit you badly enough to send you to hospital. And you’re worried about his well-being? Really, Milly Mouse, this is too self-effacing. Even for you.”
“Don’t call me that!” Milly snapped before she could stop herself.
Iain stilled. Probably shocked at the harsh reaction he’d elicited from his generally meek assistant.
Another wave of fatigue passed over her. Sometimes it felt like that was all she was: a self-effacing little mouse who came into this world with barely a squeak and would go out the same way.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a long night.” She scrubbed a hand down the side of her face. “I should go inside and get cleaned up for work. And you should probably get back to your camping…and your pet wolf.”
“Okay,” he answered.
“Okay,” she echoed softly, waiting for him to make the first move and go.
But then he said, “I promise never to call you Milly Mouse again. Come on, let me walk you to your door…”
Iain took her by the elbow and escorted her down the short walkway and then up the steps toward the covered entrance outside the front door of her terrace house flat.
“Um…thanks,” she said, not quite knowing how else to respond to this unprecedented act of gentlemanly behavior.
Or how to feel about the way her elbow tingled as they walked together up the steps. Or what to think when he lowered his umbrella but not his hand once they’d reached the top of the stairs.
“Thanks,” she said for the third time. She was finding it increasingly difficult to squeeze any words at all through her suddenly dry throat.
“Millicent…” Iain said, looking down at her, his steely gray gaze as soft as it had been that first time they’d met during her interview. His hand still hadn’t dropped from her elbow.
“Yes?” she asked, her heart thundering in her chest.
Iain opened his mouth…but then the softness faded from his eyes, and his face seemed to close like a door until it resembled its usual hard mask. “You can work from home today, but I’ll expect you in at four tomorrow morning.”
His hand finally released her arm. And without waiting for her reply, he jogged down the steps.
By the time she spotted him opening the door to his Jaguar, the thundering of her heart had come to a full stop. And as Milly watched him drive away without so much as a backward glance in her direction, Tara’s words echoed in her ears. “What. A. Dick.”
Chapter Five
“How’re you doing there, Milly Mouse? Looking quality as always.”
The next afternoon Milly only just stopped herself from releasing an audible sigh of exasperation when she looked up to find Magnus Scotswolf, the one person she found harder to deal with than Iain, standing in front of her desk.
“Hi, Mr. Scotswolf,” Milly called out, ignoring Magnus in favor of his graying father who stood a few steps behind his oldest son and wore the family kilt-and-sweater combo.
“Milly,” Scotswolf senior returned her greeting with a cheerful nod before settling in with an architectural magazine in the sitting area where Iain would often meet with those clients who didn’t share his staunch anti-sitting ethos.
Magnus, on the other hand, lingered at her desk. And beyond the glass wall, Milly noticed a collection of female and male employees openly staring at one of Scotland’s most famous wingers.
Iain’s older brother stood a few inches wider and taller than Iain, and she supposed he was somewhat handsome in a rough, grizzled way. Magnus wasn’t nearly as dark and refined as his brother, who took after their Italian mother. Instead, he was large and commanding. To Milly, he embodied everything she’d imagined a “real Scotsman” to look like, and he had the air of a Highland warrior of old.
Magnus was also technically a celebrity, thanks to his position with the Edinburgh Rovers. Honestly, rugby was a sport Milly barely knew existed before moving to Scotland. But apparently playing this pad-less version of football for the city’s very own Edinburgh Rovers was enough for people to make a big deal about it every time Magnus swanned through the AlgoFortune offices
And swan he did. Magnus was insufferable. He seemed to think he’d done her a favor by dubbing her “Milly Mouse”—he was a handsome celebrity after all, and she
was a nobody who worked for his brother; a glorified secretary. Milly could tell Magnus thought she should be honored he even deigned to flirt with her, considering all the stares and come hither glances he attracted whenever he walked into a room.
And much to her annoyance, every time he dropped by to visit Iain, instead of waiting in the seating area, he’d hover around her desk making overtly flirtatious small talk with her. Like he was James Bond and she Moneypenny, rather than a Smirking Pompous Athlete and the Beleaguered Assistant who had to put up with him because he was her boss’s brother.
Unlike most other women in the office, Milly didn’t find Magnus Scotswolf remotely swoon-worthy. But she was in the minority. Because he was without a doubt, as both her female and gay male office mates put it, “incraedibly hot” and according to both his teammates and rivals, an “incraedibly gifted” player. However, seeing as how he hadn’t bothered to nickname any of his other admirers “Milly Mouse,” she just found him “incraedibly annoying.”
Especially today. Because unlike all the other times he’d come by the office, she could smell him. Pine, moss, and crisp air, just like Iain. But she couldn’t say she particularly liked the way the scent sat on him. It struck her as…wrong. In a way that made her wish even more fervently than usual that he’d go take a seat beside his father.
But he didn’t. Instead, Magnus stood next to her desk, watching her with his smoky gray eyes as he asked, “How’s the arm, then, Milly Mouse? Iain mentioned you’d been injured when you popped round to his cottage the other night.”
Milly looked up, surprised Iain had bothered to discuss her with his brother at all. “Um, I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt anymore. Like I told my roommate, the bandage makes it look worse than it really is.”
Magnus’s eyes narrowed. “Your flatmate…that would be the lass who hugged you after you went to hospital?”
She crooked her head to the side. Because…wow, that was a very specific detail for him to know, let alone bring up. “Uh…yeah.”
Her Scotttish King: (Howls Romance) Loving World Page 19
