My Scottish Summer

by Connie Brockway

  “Well,” she said sternly, “your retainer just made off with my dog.”

  Scandinavian pragmatism one, American mawkishness zero. Damn.

  “I have the contract that proves the sale right here.” She snapped open a sheaf of papers.

  “Listen,” he said, holding up his hands in a pacifying gesture, “I believe you. You have a bill of sale for my dog, signed by McGill. But first things first. I’ve got to find McGill and Blackie, and then we’ll get this sorted out.”

  “Fine. Where’d they go?”

  “Specifically? I haven’t any idea.”

  “That’s just great” A little note of fear had entered her voice, and all sorts of manly protective instincts Dev hadn’t even known he’d possessed came roaring to the front. He stepped closer to her and touched her arm. She was too miserable to even note the familiarity.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I told you yesterday. I have nonrefundable, nontransferable tickets. I’ve made reservations for Blackie to be on the same flight with me three days from now, out of London. If I miss that flight—I can’t miss that flight”

  An unpleasant suspicion took hold of Dev. “Does McGill know about this?”

  She thought a minute. “Yeah? So?”

  “He’s gone to ground,” he told her flatly. “As far as McGill is concerned, he only has to stay out of your way until your plane leaves, and he figures he’s home free.”

  “The… the…”

  “Blackguard?” Dev suggested.

  “I was thinking of something a bit more colloquial,” she said.

  Dev smiled in spite of her grim expression. She might be a much cooler and more remote woman than the tipsy lovely he’d kissed yesterday, but the humor was still there.

  “And let me tell you, Mr. Montgomery,” Ouch. “Your manager has figured wrong. I may be forced to leave here without my dog, but I won’t give him up. I’ll get a lawyer. A really nasty Scottish lawyer.”

  “Hold on,” Dev said. He couldn’t afford a lawsuit. Not that he wouldn’t spend his last penny protecting what was his if he thought Ids principles were being tested—he would. But he wasn’t certain right now who was right and who was wronged. Clearly, Toni didn’t have any such moral dilemma.

  “McGill hates cities. Doesn’t trust the motorways, and he’s driving an ancient Land Rover.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think I know where he’s headed.”

  “Where?” she asked.

  “The Great Hebrides Sanctioned Trial on Mull starts tomorrow. McGill was planning on attending. I know he entered a dog. I thought that’s where he’d gone when he came in and fetched Blackie. If you wanted to stay lost for a few days and you had a Border collie, what better place to hide?”

  He started past her, but she caught at his arm. The touch was electrifying, stopping him as effectively as a brick wall. “Where are you going?”

  “To Mull.” He couldn’t think very clearly with her holding his arm like that The scent of her herbal shampoo filled the air between them, along with a heated wave of awareness. The memory of their kiss ambushed him in a stampede of desire.

  “How?” she asked. “He ruined my car, and he took yours.”

  “I got me bike,” he answered in thick Scottish brogue, trying for a brashness that would disguise her effect on him.

  “Motorcycle?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. I’m going, too.”

  He frowned. “No. The roads are too rough, and the bike’s suspension is old. You’d shake some teeth loose, and I don’t want to be responsible for your orthodonture on top of everything else.”

  “Aha!” she crowed, “then you do concede that the dog is mine!”

  “I don’t concede anything. Except that this is a mess, and we need to get it straightened out. And I’ll be able to do that a good deal faster without you coming along for the ride.”

  “Listen,” she said, stepping nearer and tapping him in the sternum with one finger, “I have a vested interest in this. How do I know you won’t just putter off to Oban for the afternoon and leave me here with no way out?”

  He felt himself stiffen. “Because you have my word.”

  “Yeah. Well, I had McGill’s word, too, and his signature, for whatever good it did me.”

  “Ow. That was cold.”

  His words drew a quickly suppressed grin from her. “I’m a businesswoman, whatever you might think. My actions yesterday were entirely out of character—”

  “Lord, I hope not,” he said with a lopsided grin.

  She blushed prettily and scowled. “Don’t try and sidetrack me, Montgomery.”

  Okay, he thought, marginally better than Mr. Montgomery.

  “Now, I don’t want to call the cops on your trusted family retainer, but I will unless you take me with you.”

  He eyed her speculatively. She was standing with her hands on her hips, but there was a shadow in her eyes that belied her aggressive stance, a touch of pleading. She didn’t want to call the cops but clearly felt her back was to the wall.

  His thoughts took an improbable and devious turn. If he took her with him, there would be other compensations. He’d have a chance to be with her, to see if attraction this potent had at its base something more than pure animal lust. Not that he was deriding animal lust. Not at all.

  “Okay. Get your money and whatever things you might need for a night on the town, providing the town is population one-fifty. Meet me down at the garage. And put on a jacket,” he advised, looking out at the gathering clouds. “Rain jacket.”

  She darted out, leaving him to make a quick call to his mother’s house in Aberdeen so that his youngest brother could come out and watch over the dogs. As he’d hoped, his brother was happy to assist. Anything to get out of one of their mother’s dinner parties. Then Dev stuffed a change of socks, underwear, and another shirt into a pack and went down to meet Toni at the kennels.

  She was waiting for him. She’d put on a Burberry and donned a pair of red cowboy boots in place of her Adidases. They brought all sorts of wicked thoughts boiling to the surface of Dev’s imagination, of her long legs still in those red boots, wrapped around his… Steady, boy.

  He opened the garage door, went inside, pulled the drop cloth off his bike, and rolled her outside. Toni sucked in an appreciative whistle, thereby rising in his already high opinion of her. Not only did she have looks, wit, and a love of dogs, but she could appreciate a work of art when she saw it, too. What more could a man ask?

  He donned his helmet, straddled the shining black Harley, and stomped on the gas pedal as he turned the throttle. The rebuilt 1958 engine purred to life. He held out his hand, the spare helmet dangling from his fingertips. She put it on quickly, shoved a black backpack under the bungee cords he’d strapped across the back rack, and scrambled aboard, hesitating a second before positioning her hands gingerly on his flanks.

  He grinned and gunned the motor. The bike jumped. Toni gasped, plastering herself against his back, her arms flying around his waist as she held on for dear life. She felt good clinging to him. There was strength in her arms, and her long legs bracketed him with fascinating pressure. Her face burrowed comfortably against the back of his neck. Her warm breath brushed his ear.

  His grin broadened. With a little finesse he could make the trip to Mull last hours.

  4

  Mull was one of the most picturesque of the Scottish Isles. The terrain ranged from softly rising mountains cloaked in fragrant pines to wind-savaged stretches of coast framed by the winding single-track roads that skirted the island. Toni was certain she had a bruise for each rut in the road that bisected the small fishing village of Tobermory.

  The island, usually a mecca of solitude, was inundated with visitors. The little hamlets teamed with campers and day trekkers who’d come not only for the field trial but because of Mull’s deep burns and shaded glens, pretty greenness and hushed beauty. In short, Mull made as spectacular a setting as a s
heepherding competition could want Indeed, the local inhabitants had raised a fair around the official trial proceedings.

  There were handlers, trainers, owners, spectators, and families, all enjoying the festival atmosphere. As such, every small inn and bed-and-breakfast on the island had been booked.

  It was pure chance that Dev and Toni walked into a farmhouse B&B just as the proprietress was taking a phone cancellation. The rate she quoted them was outrageous. Toni could see by the set of Dev’s jaw that he didn’t like being taken advantage of, but he looked at her wind-burned face, and the combativeness drained from his expression.

  “Fine, we’ll take it,” he said. She looked at him gratefully, and his expression softened further.

  The stout, grim Scotswoman led them up a steep flight of stairs, her back stiff with disapproval as she flung open the small door and stood aside. The room inside was charming, decorated in pale blue-sprigged wallpaper and starched white cotton eyelet curtains. A delft-blue slipper char stood at the foot of a single white bed… single.

  Toni’s gaze flew to Dev’s face. He was regarding the narrow white counterpane with bland disinterest. An image of all six-foot-whatever of him and all six-foot-oneand-one-half-inch of her together on that bed flooded her imagination. They wouldn’t be able to draw breath without smashing into one another.

  But there was really no where else either of them could sleep. The slipper chair was too dainty, and the floor, well, only a braided rag rug covered the rough boards. If Dev felt as battered as she did, he wouldn’t be thrilled at the prospect of camping out. She steeled herself against weakening. Too bad. Just because she’d acted like… like some sort of nympho yesterday didn’t mean she was easy. Not that he’d given any indication he— She frowned. What was wrong with him anyway?

  “Do you have anything else?” she asked the proprietress. “Anything with a bigger bed?”

  “This ain’t Cupid’s gymnasium, missie,” the Scotswoman clipped out. Toni’s lips twitched, her humor restored.

  “Believe me, lady,” she answered, “Cupid could shoot his entire quiver into my hind end, and I wouldn’t so much as twitch. We just want to sleep.” She turned to Dev. “Right?”

  “Right.” He nodded. He needn’t be so agreeable.

  “Well, you’ll have to make do,” their hostess said, not in the least mollified. “This is all that’s available, and yer lucky to have it. How many days did you say ye’11 be staying?”

  Dev grimaced. “Best make it two.” He held up his hand, stopping Toni’s protest before it began. “Look. You’ve seen the place. It’s overrun. If we don’t find McGill tomorrow, we’ll need to look until we do. If time gets too tight, you can hire a car to get you to Glasgow.”

  “Oh, yeah?” she said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the panic out of her voice. “And who’s going to pay for this car? I’m maxed out on my credit card!”

  The proprietress nailed her with a glower that proclaimed her every dark suspicion justified. “If you’re staying two days, I’ll be needing the next day’s rent. In advance. In cash.”

  “Smooth move, Minnesota,” Dev said, pulling out his wallet He peeled off three-quarters of his remaining bills and plopped them in the woman’s outstretched hand. “And I’ll pay for your car, if it comes to that. It’s the least I can do for all the trouble McGill has caused.”

  The woman sniffed once, to make sure she left no doubt about her opinion on her two new tenants’ morals, and left, closing the door behind her.

  “Okay,” Dev said moving toward the bed and flopping down on his back in the middle, “I’ve got thirty pounds ten in my wallet. If we don’t eat too much, that should last us the next few days.” He eyed her up and down. “I suspect you eat a lot”

  And here she’d just been thinking how charming he’d been. “No more than any other Amazon,” she said flatly, winning a laugh from him.

  She swung her backpack up onto the slipper chair. The day’s drive had flung mud all over her jeans, and her once pink sweater looked more “ashes of roses” if one was being kind, “dingy Kool Aid stain” if one wasn’t

  “Not to worry,” Dev said from behind her. “We’ll eat on the cheap, but we’ll eat well. It’s something of a point of pride with me.”

  He really was being awfully nice. And he hadn’t once brought up her outrageous behavior of the previous day. She owed him an apology and, by gum, she’d give him one. There was a reason the media had coined the term “Minnesota Nice.” Most of them thought nice was synonymous with placid

  Toni knew differently. She suspected the Minnesotan temperament was the result of a gene seeded eons ago during the interminably long Scandinavian winters, when frigid weather kept people huddled inside together for weeks on end. If you didn’t learn to keep your thoughts to yourself and remain obstinately polite in the face of any provocation, you likely ended up arguing with, say, Uncle Sven—who didn’t tolerate cabin fever very well but had had the foresight to bring his ax with him into Der Winterhut. Those who made it through the “long night” in one piece were generally those predisposed to reticence. Yup, everything she’d done after that fourth Scotch had been totally out of character and she needed to own up to her sins.

  She drew a deep breath and turned to face Dev. “I’m sorry for whooping at you like that yesterday, and, ah… for trying to look up your kilt, and for, er, any untoward comments I might have made. Did make.”

  He’d folded his hands behind his head and was regarding her oddly. “Did you just say ‘untoward’? I didn’t think people really spoke like that except in old Merchant-Ivory films.”

  She would not be sidetracked. She needed to do this. “We use those words in Minnesota. Sometimes. If warranted.”

  “Warranted?”

  “Stop it. I was rude. Please accept my apology.”

  He grinned, an absolutely delicious, wicked, and incorrigible grin. “Don’t think twice about it.”

  Women probably whooped at him all the time.

  “Thank you,” Toni said. “I mean it. You’ve been really decent about all this. I mean, here I’ve come to take your dog away, a dog you didn’t even know was sold, and you go out of your way to see that he’s returned to—”

  “Hold on, Snow Princess. I’m reuniting you and McGill. I’m not conceding anything about Blackie yet, all right?”

  “But he’s mine!”

  “Nah-uh.” He shook his finger. “Not gonna discuss it until I hear McGilTs side of the story. Then, calmly and collectedly, we’ll all decide what we’re going to do about the situation.”

  “I’ve told you. I don’t have the time or the money to sit around Scotland and let you decide anything. As far as I can see, you’re not even involved.”

  “I own the dog.”

  “Your manager, who I assume was invested by you with the authority to make these sorts of decisions, sold the dog to me.”

  Aha! She had him. She could see it by the slight flicker in his eyes.

  “Let’s just find McGill first, agreed?”

  What else could she do? She needed him, and he knew it. Not only did he have the financial resources to continue this search, he knew the land and the people. He knew who to ask, and what. She nodded unhappily, and he suddenly sat up, reached out, and chucked her lightly under the chin.

  “Ach! Don’t be lookin’ like a lost lambikins, lassie. Things’ll come oot right as rain, ye’ll see.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the thick accent.

  The smile died from his mouth, but the warmth stayed in his eyes as he held out his hand. “Truce?”

  She held out her hand. Slowly his long fingers wrapped around hers, their heat sinking into hers, just as the heat from his big body had warmed her all day, his breadth protecting her from the wind.

  He was big, strong, quick-witted, and trustworthy. Oh, yeah. And drop-dead gorgeous.

  He moved closer, his gaze becoming sharper, more intent. The air seemed to have fled her lungs, leaving her a little light-headed, a to
uch breathless. She could see the rise and fall of his chest beneath the soft, worn chambray shirt. He was breathing harder, too. His hand still held hers, tightening, drawing her nearer, and she was going, melting toward him like candle wax beneath a flame.

  Warning bells went off just in time. What the devil was she doing? In three days she’d be gone and never see him again. She’d be chasing geese around golf courses in Minneapolis, and he’d be here, bricking up his castle walls, melting other women with his dimples and smoldering gaze. No matter what he said, no matter that she’d really believed him when he’d said there weren’t any notches in his bedpost, she wasn’t going to be the first because… Because why? Because that’s not the type of woman she was.

  She pulled back, smiling nervously. A flicker of irritation? distress? passed over his features, and then he let her go, turning aside, and the moment was gone. She felt empty and uncertain, as though she’d misunderstood something important. But a woman like her, a woman alone, with no one but herself to look after her, couldn’t afford to take chances with her heart.

  Heart? What was the matter with her? Next she’d be convincing herself she was involved in the love affair of the century.

  He walked past her, heading for the en suite bath. “I need a shower,” she said. She opened her mouth to reply and slammed it shut.

  He didn’t mean… Nah. They’d been on the road all afternoon. She needed a shower, too. But after he came out and it was her turn to clean up and she’d shed her dusty clothes and stepped into the tub and grasped the handle to turn on the water, she couldn’t help noticing the chrome was ice cold.

  Somehow he was going to get through this night. He wasn’t precisely sure how yet, but if he kept her up long enough, he was certain he’d think of something. So far the best diversion he’d managed was to stumble around Fionnport’s three streets, eating pub grub and chatting up some of the local boys in hopes of finding McGill.

  Happily, the old reprobate wasn’t to be found; the truth was that Dev was far more interested in being with Toni Olson than finding Donald McGill. And Dev had the oddest feeling Toni felt the same. Time and again they’d be laughing or discussing something, and Toni would suddenly get a frosty expression and withdraw from the conversation, as though she had to remind herself, and sternly too, that she was here on business and that theirs was simply an expedient and temporary relationship. She was right, of course. How could it be anything else? And it was for the best. It really was, because he had a feeling Toni Olson would take a lot of getting over if a man was so inclined. And he wasn’t…