The Dog House (Harding's World of Romance)

by Nell Harding

  “It isn’t upscale, it’s full-on aristocratic,” she corrected him. “But I had heard that, yes. Does it have modern plumbing and electricity?”

  He grinned. “In most rooms, yes. Well, follow me, then. Although I’m not sure that this counts as your foray onto my territory.”

  “It is your home, Colin,” she reminded him. “And a man’s home is his castle.”

  “I really don’t think I can honestly say that I’m at home in my kitchen,” he pointed out. “I will recognise it though, if we stumble upon it.”

  “Will there be any food there?” Fiona asked suddenly, her hand on the car door handle. “Or do we have to stop at Morrison’s?”

  “Marks and Spencer’s, if it comes to that,” he corrected her, looking doubtful. “Doing groceries, how quaint. But now that I think about it, with my folks around McTavish keeps the pantry full. My mother can cook, at least.”

  “Tell me you aren’t speaking about a butler or valet or something,” Fiona said, starting to feel less comfortable with the arrangement.

  “Manager,” Colin assured her. “Which is sort of a broad term really. He’s the one who actually gets things done.”

  She sighed. “Let’s get going before I start to have second thoughts,” she suggested.

  Fiona was starting to feel like an imposter by the time Colin’s car signalled the turning into the long driveway of the castle, which passed by the gate-keeper’s cottage. The obvious need to tell the truth, to confess about Livingstone and her own cowardice in owning up to him, had never seemed clearer. She resolved to find an opportunity this evening to explain herself when the situation presented itself. Knowing Colin, he would probably laugh about it and she would feel ridiculous for having hesitated so long. It wasn’t as if she could match the cold, threatening tones of the letter she had received with the man himself.

  Still she was glad that Livingstone wasn’t there to run after them, she thought as she glanced at the cottage in passing. He was happy enough with Sarah and it would look better if she confessed before she was forced to by the situation. The garden looked rambling and neglected and somehow forlorn without the dog’s presence and she thought again how glad she was to have him, regardless of the complications he caused. Ideally, after her confession, he could be part of her excursions with Colin, if he liked dogs. It was hard to imagine anybody not liking the affectionate hound but that was something else that she should find out this evening.

  This was her first official visit to the castle and it was even more impressive when approached correctly, rather than surreptitiously through the woods. The long driveway was lined with old hardwood trees, their massive trunks dark and stately while the turning leaves added a hint of colour.

  The drive ended in a courtyard formed by a collection of old outbuildings which had at one point formed the working area for the estate, including a barn, stable and loose boxes and a few storage or maintenance buildings. All were cut from the same grey stone as the castle and all were kept in perfect condition, despite the fact that several looked permanently closed-up now.

  The loose boxes had been converted into a garage, and Colin pulled into one while Fiona left her car in the gravel outside. She was too busy admiring the architecture and fantastic preservation of the historical buildings to notice Colin gesturing that she move her car indoors as well.

  “Oh, a bit of rain will help me clean it,” she laughed, leaving it where it was.

  “It isn’t the weather I’m worried about,” he told her, crunching across the gravel to join her. “Do you remember that I mentioned we’d had troubles with a dog? He managed to damage a visitor’s car the other day and now I prefer to have my guests park in safety.”

  This may have been an opening to launch the discussion but it certainly wasn’t the one that Fiona had been hoping for. Instead she kept her voice light as she indicated the already-battered state of her vehicle. “I don’t think a scratch or two more will make much difference to the value,” she pointed out with an attempt at a laugh. “Unless the dog pokes right through one of the rusty patches.”

  “Are you sure?” Colin asked, genuine concern in his voice. “I’d hate to feel responsible if something happened to your car.”

  “Is this for the sake of my old hatchback or so that my car doesn’t disfigure your impeccable estate?” she asked with sudden suspicion.

  At least this made him laugh, breaking the mood. “Do you still think I’m that shallow?” he asked, taking her elbow to lead her along a gravel path between the buildings.

  For once Fiona chose her words with tact. “I think I wouldn’t be out of line to suggest that some of your friends and acquaintances might find my vehicle either objectionable or at least worthy of a derogatory comment,” she said.

  He blinked a few times. “They’d laugh at it, you mean?” he interpreted. “A bit of teasing isn’t always to be taken seriously, you know. They give me a hard time when they can too. And I’m fairly sure that some good-natured ribbing among friends cuts across classes. Or are you going to accuse me again of living in a bubble, unaware of how terribly serious everybody is outside of my circle?”

  “I haven’t changed my mind about that bubble comment,” she told him. “I mean, you can’t even cook for yourself.”

  “And I maintain that you live in an equally protected bubble,” he returned mildly. “A world of academics and great thinkers that are as far removed from the mainstream mindset as my group. Speaking of which, you have at least made great efforts to try out my social scene today and I appreciate it. Even if you alienated half of them.”

  Fiona shot him a quick glance to see if he seemed at all upset but his eyes were teasing. As for the comment about a protected bubble, she realised how very little he knew of her personal life back in Edinburgh, but she didn’t feel comfortable enough to set him straight. Her family’s poverty, her father’s drinking habits and the blame he laid on the British seemed too far removed from his world, where even her university life put her in a different circle. She was what she had made of herself, leaving the past behind, and she wanted him to judge her for who she was now, not for where she had come from.

  So instead she remarked graciously, “You’ve also done your share of adjusting for my world with the chippie and the walks. And you’ve done a better job of fitting into mine than I did into yours.”

  “We’ll both just need to keep practising,” he said cheerfully, his words giving her a rush of pleasure. He wasn’t giving up on her just yet, and somehow he wasn’t bored with her despite the hours and hours it had taken her to get around the golf course.

  By now they had left the cluster of outbuildings and were approaching the castle, which loomed regally above the perfectly-trimmed lawn. With the early autumn chill in the air and the clouds blowing in, the glow of soft lights through the window of the entrance hall looked inviting rather than imposing and Fiona couldn’t help feeling excited at the prospect of an evening in a real castle.

  “McTavish must still be working,” Colin observed, noting the lights in one of the ground-floor rooms as they walked up three steps to the main doors.

  Fiona froze. “You’re sure that it can’t be your parents?” she asked, having heard enough joking remarks about their severity to be sure that she didn’t want to meet them, at least not like this.

  He dismissed her fears with a shake of his head. “Everything my father does is planned in advance,” he told her dryly. “A spontaneous change of plans such as leaving Skye early is out of the question. Besides, their car wasn’t in the garage. Now, welcome to Loch Murray and please make yourself at home.”

  Fiona laughed hollowly. At home in a castle. That was as much of a stretch as feeling at home with a golf club. But she was surprised at the contrast between the austere exterior of the building and the homier, lived-in feeling inside.

  She decided at once that the décor had been chosen by somebody other than Colin. The cold flagstone floors and high walls were softened
by rugs and decorations that seemed to have been collected from around the world. The lights were warm and cosy and a fire was crackling in a large hearth when Colin led the way down the entry hall to a large living area.

  In front of the fire two large but comfortable-looking sofas had been drawn up with a low polished table already set out with a tray of crackers and cheese and two empty glasses.

  “You were expecting me to suggest this?” Fiona demanded suspiciously, seeing the set-up. “Or are you always prepared to bring somebody home?”

  Colin merely laughed. “We do have cell phone coverage out here,” he told her. “I warned McTavish that I was bringing company home with me. Simple hospitality, my suspicious companion.”

  She felt her cheeks redden. She had sounded awfully possessive there and she tried to compensate, realising that it wasn’t so much a question of jealousy as insecurity about her status with Colin, whether this was starting to feel like a real relationship to him or whether she remained an intriguing new play thing for a spoilt bachelor.

  “As long as you don’t think that a tray full of cheese counts as supper,” she said with forced cheer. “You aren’t escaping your cooking lesson any more than I could beg off the golf after the driving range.”

  “Fine,” Colin said with a heavy sigh. “But let me first offer us a glass of something by the fire. I must say that a long afternoon out of doors without the habitual drink and snack at the club has left me famished.”

  Fiona was hungry too, although something in her body’s awareness of Colin seemed to keep her appetite somewhat in check. She didn’t know if it was nerves or hormones or simply the vague fear and hope that they might find themselves naked again at some point and she didn’t want to have eaten too much.

  She sank down into the sofa while Colin walked over to a liquor cabinet against the wall. The warmth of the fire after the afternoon outdoors left her suddenly very relaxed and she made herself sit upright again for fear of getting sleepy. She looked around the grand room with curiosity, and had to admit that despite the cleanliness and order, it still conveyed the feeling of a real house which people lived in and she could imagine it filled with children playing games and adults drinking sherry on a stormy evening.

  “I can’t imagine that your parents only had you with a house this big to fill,” she remarked as Colin returned to the sofa with several bottles in his hands. “And I hope you aren’t suggesting that we drink all of that before your cooking lesson.”

  “You can see why a house like this makes you want to entertain people,” he said, placing the bottles on the coffee table and seating himself on the other wing of the sofa, where he could look at Fiona. “These places were meant for hosting hordes, not hiding out on one’s own.”

  “Or besieging rival feudal lords and hiding away from angry peasant uprisings,” she replied with a smile. “I doubt your earliest ancestors were best mates with the working poor.”

  He smiled at her ruefully. “You are still assuming that I have Scottish blood,” he said. “Not that my parents bought this place twenty years ago and restored it. With a genuine love of the Highlands, by the way, not as a crass investment. Now what can I offer you?”

  Fiona chose a port, watching the flickering light play on Colin’s face as he poured her drink into a heavy crystal glass.

  “I suppose it would be lonely in such a big place alone,” she said, thinking of her own small cottage. “Why don’t you get a dog or fill those stables with horses?”

  “Far too much responsibility for the likes of me,” he answered promptly as he fixed himself a whiskey and sat back down. “With a demanding social schedule such as mine, I can’t afford to be tied down. It might force me to grow up or some other horrible consequence.”

  “Slainte,” she said, raising her glass and appreciating the play of firelight on the facets of the crystal. “I would have thought you’d just have a stable hand or somebody to look after them for you when you were away,” she continued, wanting to discern his real attitude towards animals. It wasn’t a necessary compatibility for a short fling, but it would certainly direct her decision in broaching the subject of Livingstone. There was no way that a dog-hater would have the same understanding of her plight as an animal-lover.

  He relieved her with his casual reply. “You could do that with horses, if necessary,” he acknowledged. “But a dog, that’s like a serious committed relationship and you can’t just pay somebody to take over when you want to go. Which is why I’m both dogless and single.”

  “But you do like dogs,” she pressed, ignoring the uneasy feeling that his last line gave her. Was he telling her that he was single and in the market? Or telling her that he still considered himself single despite their love-making? In any case, if he didn’t like dogs the question was moot due to insurmountable incompatibilities. Livingstone had been in her life before Colin and had managed to take over a large portion of her heart. Whoever shared the remainder had to be comfortable sharing it with a hairy hound.

  “Of course,” Colin answered in an offhand way. “My mother is the classic English country gentlewoman, all about horses and dogs. Still is, back in Kent. We grew up with beasts of all sorts, and although we did have help taking care of them, my mother was personally very involved. Now why does that make you smile? Am I continuing to fit your cliché of the upper class twit of the year?”

  “Not at all,” she assured him, simply happy that he liked dogs. “It’s just this port on an empty stomach. I think I’d better have a nibble before we hit the kitchen and I find myself legless.”

  The port was actually warming her quite nicely and she let the relaxation spread as she sank back onto the couch and looked at the fire, nibbling on a square of cheddar. Colin had stretched his legs out and was watching her.

  “I think that your worries of not feeling comfortable here were unfounded,” he observed dryly. “It’s amazing how quickly we can adapt to new surroundings and situations, isn’t it?”

  “Do you mean to new settings or to new people?” she asked, stifling a yawn. “It’s true, I no longer feel that you come from a completely different planet. Not so sure about your friend Bridget, though.”

  “Oh, she’s not usually so bad, really,” he said with a gentle smile. “She’s just a bit worried about losing her spot in the group and tends to try too hard. Not a problem that you would understand.”

  Fiona considered this comment and gave up. She was too tired to think clearly and preferred to let her mind drift back to his earlier statement about how quickly people could adapt. When she thought about it, she was starting to feel quite at ease with Colin, more so than she would ever have imagined. More than at ease.

  She sat up quickly. These thoughts and the comfort of the couch were making her feel languorous and she was going to lose her motivation to move very soon. And she didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to cook in the castle kitchen and to introduce Colin to something new, no matter how tempting the option of a soiree by the fire was beginning to feel. Perhaps they could return here for an after dinner drink and see where it led.

  For now, she got to her feet, surprised to feel stiffness in her shoulders. She had always considered golf a soft sport and hadn’t expected to feel her muscles afterwards. She rolled her shoulders back and forth a few times before she caught Colin’s expression.

  “I could give you a massage if you like,” he offered with a lazy smile.

  “Maybe later,” she said, not wanting to end up in a dangerously physical situation before she had the opportunity to confess about the dog. Afterwards, a massage would be more than welcome. “First, your cooking lesson.”

  He groaned. “You Puritanical Scots,” he grumbled. “Do you have to be productive and efficient all the time? The pre-dinner drink with your feet up is sacred in certain circles.”

  “Yes, in those who can afford cooks to prepare their meals while they glance through the papers,” she replied tartly.

  “I don’t hav
e a cook, I order food in,” he corrected her lazily, slowly getting up from the sofa. “Actually highly efficient in terms of time. You should approve.”

  “I would, if you used that time to do something useful,” she told him. “Why not take more interest in your family’s trust and find creative new projects to support? You might enjoy it and do some good at the same time.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he said, stretching as he got to his feet. “But as I told you, I’m also very busy playing the role of lavish host and entertaining people. That’s not entirely self-centred and I’m actually quite good at it, as I would love to show you if you let me.”

  “That’s not what I want from you,” she told him, realising how uncomfortable she would feel with him throwing his money around to buy her fancy dinners. It would make her wonder even more about their ambiguous relationship.

  It was as if he was thinking the same thing. “So what do you want from me?” he asked softly, stepping closer.

  Glancing up at him, Fiona felt her pulse begin to race. With this sexy man standing close to her, his eyes reflecting the firelight and the heat making her body relax, she knew exactly what she wanted from him right now. But it didn’t answer the bigger question of what she wanted and she forced herself to take a step back.

  “I want to show you how to cook,” she said brightly, fighting to resist the pull of his body. “Show me to the kitchen.”

  He hesitated just long enough for her resolve to waver as the image of his body pressing hers down into the sofa invaded her thoughts. Then he took a gentlemanly step back, ushering her toward the far end of the room with exaggerated courtesy.

  “If Madam would just follow me, please,” he intoned. “I think you’ll find all that you need this way, in the sterile and cold kitchen, far from the cosy ambiance of the fireside.”