A Highlander's Obsession

by Vonnie Davis

  “Aye,” Creighton said, then tipped his glass and welcomed the bite of the aged whisky. “She did see ghosts. Upstairs in her suite of rooms.”

  Ronan rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Christ. How did that go?”

  He told them all of it, except for their lovemaking. Unfortunately, now that he’d erased her memory of this afternoon, only he retained the recollection of their sweet sexual union. He gulped more of the Whyte and Mackay to drown his desire and forced his attention to his responsibilities to the sleuth.

  “Let me tell ye about Angus’s will. The man was good to us, and I’m greatly relieved. Once that’s done, my bear needs fresh air. He’s nudging me to shift. I reckon yours are too.”

  “Aye.” Ronan nodded. “He’s been pestering me fer the last couple hours. The telling of his tale, of our history always stirs his wild blood. He wants out so damn bad, it’s been a struggle to keep the human dominant.”

  “We were bears long before we took on human form.” Creighton emptied his glass. “We canna deny them.”

  “Do ye ever look on our human existence as a curse?” Bryce’s countenance adopted a rare seriousness. “There’s so much emotional pain associated with being human. So many damn rules of society to adhere to. Being a bear brings us more freedom.” He tilted his glass and swallowed its contents. “Sometimes I’d sooner stay a bear.”

  Creighton clasped Bryce’s shoulder. “Colleen needs ye. She wouldna ken why ye left her. Let’s give the bears their time. I’ll tell ye about the will while we run. I want to patrol the grounds, especially the shoreline. Something is going on around here I canna put me finger on, but I sense it, or rather me bear does. Too many sheep are being killed, and there are too many signs I canna decipher. I mean to find out what’s happening.” He tugged off his sweater and glanced at Ronan. “What does yer bear say about Lorna?” Had his brother’s bear decided on his mate too, just as his had?

  A deep blush crept up Ronan’s neck and across his cheeks. “He’s been voicing his opinions, don’t think he hasna.”

  Bryce opened the secret door to the stairway and then took off his clothes. “Bet he’s been telling ye to mate. Hell, it’s been so long for me, me bear’s been telling me to mate everyone, including wrinkle-faced Cook.” The brothers laughed as they shifted. God, it was good to let their bears out. They ambled down the steps and into the night.

  * * *

  “Good morning, sweet pea.” Gram yanked open the drapes and Paisley squinted into the sunlight pouring through the windows.

  She pulled the covers over her head and moaned. “What time is it?”

  “Ten past seven. Do you know I laid down for a nap after the reading of the will and slept straight through until this morning? I’m starving and badly in need of a cup of tea. You’ve got ten minutes before I die of starvation.” Gram hurried to Paisley’s closet and pulled out her turquoise pantsuit. “Put this on, sweet pea. It shows off your hourglass figure. Creighton won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

  “I’m not sure that should be my goal since I’m engaged.”

  “You know how I feel about Alex. He thinks he can capitalize on your gift.” She shook a bony finger at Paisley. “Mark my words, he’s going to try and turn you into some profitable corporation with him at the helm.”

  Paisley winced when she sat up. Why was she sore? It was almost as if she’d had a wild night of sex.

  “Sweet pea, did you hear my warning about Alex?”

  She nodded. How would Gram react if she knew Alex was after her to write a book about her experiences with animals? He’d even researched a ghostwriter to help her. Frankly, she was relieved to be away from him for a while. Maybe he’d ease up on the book idea. She had no desire to publicize her uniqueness. Enough of that had been done already.

  She took the suit Gram waved at her and laid it across the bed. “What did your uncle leave you in his will?” She removed her golden hoops from her ears and laid them on the nightstand. “I hope it’s a suit of armor we can stand at the bottom of your steps at home, or a swath of his plaid. Though I’m not sure how we’d ship metal armor to Virginia.”

  “Uncle Angus left me his estate.” Gram pressed a wrinkled hand to her chest. “Isn’t that the wildest thing? I can’t get over it. My mind swims with the enormity of having a six-hundred-acre estate in Scotland. As soon as the roads are fit to travel, I’m asking Creighton to take us there. I’m dying to see it.”

  “Oh, Gram, what will you do with it? Our home is in the States.” This inheritance presented a whole slew of problems Paisley wasn’t sure her grandmother was up to handling. “At your age, shouldn’t you be doing what you love?”

  Gram shot her a look of defiance with her silver eyebrows arched, her blue eyes widened, and her lips in a firm pink line.

  “Look, all I’m saying is, it’ll be hard trying to manage an estate from the other side of the Atlantic. Maybe you should think about selling it.”

  “This estate is going to be your inheritance.” Gram held up a finger and pointed to it. “One, according to the will, I can’t sell it.” Another arthritic finger rose. “Two, I’m having a will drawn up, making sure you get it after I’m gone. Three, I’m old, so I get what I want.” She winked and smirked in that bodacious way she had.

  The mere thought of living in the same area as Creighton sent opposing emotions charging across her heart like two warring knights on fiery steeds—bliss at having the opportunity to get to know the Scot better and misery over the futility of their attraction when she was engaged to Alex. No, living here, desiring one man while being tied to another, would be unbearable.

  “Gram, that’s not necessary.”

  Her grandmother rummaged through Paisley’s underwear drawer, choosing a bra and panties for under the pantsuit. “Why don’t you wear thongs? Men love thongs.”

  She snatched the red bra and matching lace briefs from Gram’s outstretched hand. “Then let them wear the things. I prefer bikini briefs. Will your stomach wait while I take a shower?”

  “Make it snappy.” Gram pressed a hand to her midsection. “I’m starved. Tell me, what did you do with yourself after I came upstairs?”

  Paisley stopped in the doorway to her bathroom and slowly pivoted. “I … I don’t know. I … I …” She remembered the funeral and the meal afterward. Creighton had made her angry and she’d tossed water on him. They’d had words and she ran up here to get away from the arrogant Scot. She’d changed clothes. The very clothes she’d slept in. Maybe she’d simply crawled in bed to take a nap and, like Gram, slept through the night.

  Gram snorted. “You musta got into some of that strong Scottish whisky I’ve always heard about.” She pursed her lips. “Get your sweet butt in gear, missy.”

  Heads turned when they stepped into the bustling dining hall. Goodness, had everyone spent the night? Creighton strode toward her and she groaned. Would he still be angry with her for dumping water on his lap?

  His face was freshly shaved this morning, and he personified virility in his ivory fisherman’s sweater. A swath of his plaid was angled across his chest, secured at his waist with a brass emblem of some kind. His dark jeans fit tight over his lean hips, and cupped his manhood the way her hand itched to do. A jolt of awareness swept through her. She rubbed her palm against her leg, hoping to ease the need to touch him. The warmth of a blush caressed her cheeks. Thank God he can’t read my thoughts.

  A slow, sexy-as-hell smile spread as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Oh hell.

  “Good morning, ladies. I trust ye slept well. Paisley, ye look particularly lovely in that blue suit.” His fingertips touched the collar and a shiver shuddered through her. “I think it’s called turquoise, is it not? Men aren’t so good at distinguishing colors. To us, blue is blue no matter the hue, but Colleen has been a help.”

  “How so?” He seemed so open this morning. What was up with that?

  “I sometimes color with her at night to help her wind down. When she as
ks for a certain color crayon, ye better hand her the right one.” He winced. “She gets rather testy.”

  The thought of this muscled man gently doling out crayons to his niece was at direct odds with his brawny appearance. Something inside her warmed and she smiled. In response, he mirrored her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. For a few seconds they stared into each other’s eyes.

  Gram cleared her throat and Creighton’s attention shifted to her. “Miss Effie, I see ye’ve worn yer pelican baffies to breakfast.”

  She stuck out a foot, obviously pleased he noticed. “Yup. My conversation starters. Now if you two will excuse me, I need hot tea and food.”

  Creighton rested a large hand on Gram’s shoulder. “I’ve saved ye both places at me table. I hope ye will join me.” Gram nodded and shuffled off. He aimed his gaze on Paisley. “How do ye feel this mornin’?”

  Why was he being so nice, especially after she’d argued with him?

  “Fine. I’m sorry I threw water on you yesterday.” The words tumbled from her lips in a breathy, unexpected rush.

  The backs of his fingers stroked her cheek, an unexpected gesture that seemed oddly familiar, as if he’d done it before. “All that is behind us, leannan.” His voice dropped to an intimate level and her feminine parts came alive, quivering at the timbre of his tone. His woodsy aftershave made her want to lean into him and inhale the smell right off his skin.

  She peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth, hoping she’d sound less breathy. “What does leannan mean?”

  He blinked a few times, a strange expression on his face. “It’s a Scottish term of endearment. We have many we enjoy using.”

  “I see. I’m surprised there’s such a crowd here this morning.” She glanced around the large dining room.

  Everyone watched. Some made a pretense of eating as their gazes repeatedly shifted to them, while others openly gawked.

  She shifted with unease. “We seem to be the center of attention.”

  Creighton shrugged. “I’m head of the clan. I’m often watched and judged.” With his hand at the small of her back, he escorted her to his table. “An ice storm hit yesterday afternoon, with fierce winds off Mathe Bay. The roads quickly turned treacherous, so we extended the invite to spend the night.” He held the chair for her.

  The soreness in her core made her sit gingerly.

  He leaned over her shoulder and whispered against her ear. “Ye move rather slowly this morning. Are ye well, lassie?” His hands caressed her shoulders in a proprietary manner.

  The heat of a blush raced across her cheeks. She could hardly tell him the muscles in her legs ached, as if she’d had them spread high and wide. Nor could she mention the strange bite mark on her shoulder she’d discovered in the mirror after her shower. “Yes … yes, I’m fine.”

  A sprig of heather tied with a white ribbon was nestled next to her plate. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed the delicate woodsy and honeysuckle fragrance.

  Colleen pointed to the spray with her spoon. “Uncle Creigh said ye got heather ’cause yer special. After we eat, ye can come to me room to look at me dollies, like ye promised yesterday.”

  When had she promised to go to Colleen’s room?

  “Coffee or tea, miss?” A lady held a pot in each hand.

  Paisley extended her cup. “Coffee, please.”

  “We’re having our favorite Scottish breakfast here at Matheson Lodge.” Creighton pointed to a large bowl. “This is clapshot, made with mashed turnips and potatoes, or ‘neeps and tatties,’ as we call them. Cook mixes in chives, butter, salt, and pepper.” He leaned toward Paisley and lowered his voice. “ ’Tis not a dish normally served fer breakfast in Scotland, but Cook takes pride in her secret recipe and treats the clan when they’re all here.”

  Paisley hated to turn up her nose. “I’ll take a small serving, please.” She handed him her plate.

  “Want some haggis?” One of his thick eyebrows rose in question.

  “Looks like sausage.”

  “ ’Tis, but it’s made of the heart, liver, and lungs of a sheep or lamb. Cook combines it with oats, fat, herbs, and spices and then bakes it in the animal’s stomach.”

  Oh, dear God. I’m going to be sick. “I’ll pass. I’m … ah … not a big breakfast eater. I’ll just have some of those lovely scones and jam, please.”

  Gram shoveled in neeps and tatties. “I missed supper last night and I’m starved this morning. Creighton, what are your plans for today? I was wondering if you could drive Paisley and me to Angus’s estate.”

  Creighton shifted in his chair to focus on Gram. His thigh rested against Paisley’s and her tummy did a twitchy thing. “I canna today, I’m afraid. I have a business meeting scheduled later. I can be at yer disposal tomorrow afternoon, ma’am, if that’s agreeable.”

  “That would be fine.”

  “By then the roads should be clear of ice and snow from last night’s storm. The temperature is rising and should melt things nicely.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Gram bit into a haggis and moaned. “Oh, sweet pea, you’ve got to try one of these.”

  Paisley’s stomach rolled. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  Ronan strolled into the dining hall and filled a plate before sitting on the other side of her. “Good morning, Paisley. I was wondering if ye’d like a tour of our castle.” He rested his arm across the back of her chair. “I’d be glad to show ye around after breakfast.”

  Was he flirting with her? He’d been friendly since her arrival, but his demeanor was different this morning.

  “She canna.” Creighton’s coffee mug stilled halfway to his mouth. His voice came out low and menacing. “Colleen wants to show Paisley her doll collection. Besides …” He gulped his brew and slammed his cup on the table. “Lorna requires yer attention. She’s shooting dark looks at Paisley. I’ll not have ye using me woman to drive away one ye dinna want.”

  Paisley seethed. Really, sometimes the man was just too commanding. “Your woman?”

  His brown eyes narrowed on hers, the golden flecks in them glowing. “Aye. Mine.” His square chin jutted like a child laying claim to a toy.

  Well, she was not to be toyed with or treated as if she were an object.

  She slapped her napkin on the table and stood. She leaned over and whispered in his ear. “First of all, I’m engaged. Second, I’d sooner have an affair with an organ grinder’s monkey or a dancing bear than have your grimy paws on me.”

  She was halfway out of the dining room when Creighton’s booming laughter fanned the flames of her temper. Damn arrogant man.

  After slamming the door to her suite, Paisley tugged her suitcase from the closet and started packing. She’d had enough of Scotland and the country’s overconfident men. As soon as she was able to get an Internet connection, she’d reserve the first flights home. All she had to do was talk Gram into leaving quicker than planned. Surely there were property-management companies in Scotland. Gram shouldn’t have to deal with overseeing a big estate at her age.

  Someone knocked at her door and when she jerked it open, Creighton stood there with a tray. “Ye dinna finish yer breakfast. Since ye slept through dinner last night, I’m thinking ye might be hungry.” He winked. “Temper or no.” He sauntered into the sitting room and set the tray on the desk.

  His gaze swept to her bedroom doorway and her partially filled suitcase lying open on the bed. Dark slashes of eyebrows dipped into a V. “Are ye packing to leave?” His voice had lowered, and he scowled at her, a muscle bunching in his cheek.

  “Yes.” She pushed her glasses farther up her nose and cleared her throat. Nerves skittered across her skin like a spider racing up the wall. In an act of defiance she hiked her chin and glared, daring him to say something. This was her life, by damn. “Yes. I’m going home to Virginia and my fiancé.”

  If she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn his muscles expanded with some unseen force. Mercy, he grew before her eyes. She could have sworn he grow
led like a wild animal. His hands snapped to his waist. “Are ye now?”

  She gathered resolve and squared her shoulders. This big galoot would not intimidate her. Even so, Creighton’s forbidding expression made her step backward. He stalked toward her, his face tensed, eyes narrowed, and jaw set.

  Why was he so angry? “I should think you’d be glad to see me go.” Her back met the wall and she sidestepped toward the fireplace. “All we do is argue.” Her nerves sizzled sultry through her system. Damn, he’s hot when he’s pissed.

  “Aye, and why is that, lassie?” His head tilted to the side as he slowly advanced. “Why do we argue? Surely ye know it’s not dislike I’m feeling, but attraction.”

  “Attraction?” God, just the word tumbling from his lips made her panties damp. The sound of his voice and that Scottish burr did her in and turned her on so much she couldn’t think of anything but him. Yet, the fact remained she was engaged. Loyalty was so important, especially after she’d been shown so little by her parents.

  His arm snaked out and pulled her against his hard chest. “Aye, a fierce attraction.” His other hand fisted in her hair and drew her head back so she was forced to stare into his dark eyes. “When a man experiences the thrill of an extraordinary woman walking into his life and knows he canna bear to see her leave, he becomes desperate. So, I’m warning ye, Paisley. If ye go, I’m following ye to America. Do ye ken what I’m saying?” Determination and certainty pulsated from his eyes. His pupils were enlarged and his voice tinged with both resolve and desire.

  “You wouldn’t?” Follow her? He had to be kidding but, oh, how his words and passionate demeanor made her insides beg for him. Never had she desired a man like this.

  His hold on her tightened and his head lowered. “Aye, leannan, I would. Ye are the water to me thirst. Together, we are complete.” His lips covered hers and he slowly took control of her mouth, her mind, and, God help her, her heart.

  Only one word tainted the rightness of the moment.

  Engaged.

  She was engaged to another man.

  What kind of woman allowed one man to kiss her while she was betrothed to another? She pushed him away. “You forget I have a fiancé.” She swiped at tears scalding her cheeks. “When I’m near you, I forget about him too. Don’t you see? This is why I have to leave Scotland. My attraction to you is so wrong.”