by Vonnie Davis
“Wrong?” his voice roared.
She planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t you dare yell at me!”
“Sweet pea, did that nice Creighton bring you …” Gram halted, her hand on the doorknob. Her gaze swept from one to the other before she charged into the room. “Creighton, why is she crying? Why has your aura changed? It’s muddled with swirling deep reds and tinged with black. What has you so angry?”
“Bloody auras.” Creighton rolled his eyes before trapping Paisley’s chin between his thumb and index finger. “There’s nothing wrong with how I feel about ye.”
“What I feel for you is wrong. Nothing can ever come of it. I will not break Alex’s trust.”
“He dinna deserve ye.” Dark eyes bore into hers. “I meant what I said, leannan. Every word. Every kiss. I plan to woo ye until ye agree to be mine.” He stalked around Gram, his footsteps fierce as he stormed out of the suite. “And ye damned well will stay in Scotland,” he roared before slamming the door.
Chapter Eleven
Creighton saved his entries on the accounting program for the lodge and reached for a piece of the honey-filled hard candy he kept in a basket on his desk. The wrapping crinkled as he unwound the twisted end and popped the treat into his mouth. Work always cooled his temper. Today was no exception; he was calmer now, after he’d morphed into a raving lunatic over Paisley’s decision to leave Scotland.
He opened the lodge’s reservation schedule. With a convention coming in two weeks, March promised to be a good month. If he could convince Paisley and Effie to stay on for a few weeks, it would be an exceptional month. To do that, though, he’d have to back away, keep his passions in check. He’d made her cry earlier, and he couldna endure seeing tears tumble from her beautiful eyes again.
Proceeding with caution would be the key. He clasped his hands behind his head, propped his boots on the desk, and stared at the fire in the hearth. Then what? What exactly did he hope to achieve where Paisley was concerned?
A chance.
He wanted a chance to convince her how good they could be together. With any luck, she’d fall in love with him the way he had with her. The attraction was definitely there. Hadn’t they just experienced a second round of the heat of their passion upstairs? Hell, his body still hummed with desire.
Having her in his arms again and kissing her was a tender moment he’d not soon forget. If only she wasn’t the type of woman to honor her promise to a bloody bampot like her fiancé, he’d have made love to her again. But wasn’t her loyalty one of the things he loved about her? Hell, there were a dozen commendable qualities about the woman that endeared her to him. He smirked. Commendable and sexy, with those glasses that never stayed in place and legs that had wrapped so nicely around his hips last night. He hardened to the point of pain, remembering her crying out his name as she came … and the fierce pride and tender caring that swelled to huge proportions within his chest when she did. His hand trailed under his sweater to cover his erection that seemed insistent on peeking out the waistband of his jeans—or tenting his kilt—ever since Paisley’s arrival. Aye, she is well and truly me obsession.
Sexual needs aside, he had to worm his way into her heart to make her realize she needed him as much as he needed her. He’d have to convince her they could have a fulfilling life together, both of them pursuing their careers and raising their wee sweet bairns. With any luck, she’d embrace his sleuth, as well.
What made an animal communicator tick? Obviously she had a strong connection to the creature kingdom. Would her emotional link carry over into his sleuth’s realm? He closed his eyes on a sigh of resignation. No doubt she’d have to love him a lot to have complete acceptance of his dual existence. Helping a frightened mare deliver her first foal or tending to a dog with a thorn in his paw was one thing. Understanding a human could shift into bear form was something entirely different. Now that he’d erased her memory of Ronan’s telling of the Matheson tale and his shifting in front of her, she’d have to experience it all again. He’d protect her this time, and make sure she learned the truth in small segments, so as not to overwhelm her.
He lowered his feet and sat forward in his chair. Before he led her slowly and carefully through the process, he had to win her love, show her how deeply he cared.
“Flowers would be nice.”
“Bloody hell!” Creighton jumped and snatched his hand from under his sweater before expelling another ripe curse. His great-grandmother was the sneakiest ghost, who could appear at the worst times, like when his fingers covered the head of his erection.
“Language.” The shadowy form stood across the desk from him.
“Quit appearing without notice. Give some fair warning, why dinna ye?”
“It’s what ghosts do. Ye ken that. I appear where I’m needed. Now order Paisley some flowers. Fresh. Sentimental ones that’ll make her sigh. Women love to sigh. I must go. Colleen is getting testy with Bryce again. He needs a wife too.”
“Concentrate on me younger brother and leave me the hell alone,” he preached to her retreating misty outline.
“Language.” Her cool mist shimmered through the closed door.
Creighton slipped his cell from his pocket and dialed the florist. “I’d like to order fresh flowers for someone. Do ye have red roses and sweet golden gale in stock?”
A familiar four-beat rap sounded at Creighton’s office door just as he put his cell away. “Come in, Mum.”
The door opened and the aroma of a strong brew wafted toward him. “Brought ye coffee and some sticky buns.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Have I told ye, ye are the best mum in the world?”
“Not since the last time I made sticky buns.” She set the tray on his desk. “Have time for a chat?” She slid a leather chair in front of his desk.
He bit into the warm pastry, cinnamon and honey sweetness making his mouth happy. “Sure.”
“What’s going on between ye and Paisley?” She settled in the chair and crossed her arms. He recognized the set of her jaw. She would accept nothing but the truth.
“You’ve always said I resemble Da the most.”
She smiled and nodded. “Aye, son, ye do. Ye have his tenacity, his demanding nature, and his wide heart.” A look of sadness crossed her face. “He was me only love. I miss him with every breath I take.”
“I know ye do, Mum. The two of ye had a fierce love, and it seems I’ve fallen for Paisley as quickly and as deeply as Da did for ye.” Had he actually spoken the words? Aye, and they were words of truth, even if he wasn’t ready to share them with everyone. He sipped his coffee and reached for a second bun. “This conversation is just between ye and me and not to be shared. I don’t want Ronan and Bryce thinking they can tease me … or her. I won’t have her embarrassed.”
“Och, ye think they don’t already know? It’s as plain as the nose on yer face how ye feel about her.”
“Then why did ye ask about me feelings?” He sucked the sticky honey syrup off his fingers.
She waved a napkin at him, scowling. What was it about mothers and their kids licking off their fingers? “What do ye plan on doing about her? How does she feel about ye and yer attraction to her?”
He snatched the linen from her grasp. “I plan on wooing her. I have a feeling the milksop she’s engaged to has never romanced her.”
“Engaged?” Her eyes opened wide and then narrowed. “Och, son, ’tis not a good thing to chase after another man’s woman.”
“Pahh. He didna think enough of her to gift her with a ring. He allowed her to come to Scotland unescorted.”
The corners of his mum’s lips twitched. “Somehow I don’t think the word ‘allow’ is in Paisley’s vocabulary. It was never in mine and yer da soon found that out. Does she know how ye feel? Is that what has her in a snit?”
He choked on his coffee. “Snit?”
“Aye, she marched up to Ronan, big as ye please, hooked her arm in his, and asked him to take her on a tour of the cas
tle.”
He snapped straight in his chair. “She dinna!”
“When yer brother suggested ye would probably want to escort her, she hiked that pointy chin of hers and said—”
His stomach tensed and his jaw clenched. “Aye?”
His mum expelled a snigger. “She said ye were probably too busy yelling at people and issuing orders to be bothered with her. Who have ye been yelling at, son?”
Creighton jumped to his feet. “Bloody hell!” He rounded the desk. “When I get me hands on her, I will damn well kiss away her snit and what in hell’s blazes is she doing with Ronan?”
His mum snagged his arm. “Sit down while I talk some sense into ye.” When he hesitated, she pointed and used her mother voice. “Sit!”
He flopped into his office chair and folded his arms across the top of his desk.
His mum glared at him.
He scowled back.
“A man must approach a woman he cares about with caution and respect.”
He opened his mouth to tell her that Paisley was his, and he wanted his two unattached brothers to stay away from her, when his mum shook a finger at him.
“I’m warning ye, if ye charge in and disrupt Ronan’s time with her, ye will appear feckin’ overbearing and unsure of yourself. You’re familiar with the term stalker? There are many ways to stalk a woman.”
“People who engage in that kind of behavior mean to do harm. I would never hurt her.”
“Stalkers mean to have power over the object of their affections.” She leaned toward him. “What were ye meaning to do just now? Rush to her so ye could control who she speaks to? Actions like that scream of insecurity, Creighton Duff Matheson. Is the head of our clan an insecure man?”
He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath. Was his mum right? Was he seeking to control Paisley? “I want her to care for me. I want her to remain in Scotland long enough to win her love.” He opened his eyes and set his gaze on the wise woman in front of him. “I’m not insecure. I’m”—he waved a hand—“impatient.”
“Aye, ye always were.” She nodded. “Give the lass room to breathe, son.”
Easier said than done. With Paisley here for only a short span of time, he felt an urgency to earn her love and loyalty as soon as possible; a sense of panic clawed at him. “There’s a cèilidh the day after tomorrow at the high school. Paisley might enjoy going to a Scottish dance.”
His mum’s eyes twinkled. “Aye. A great idea. I’ll see she has a skirt to wear.”
He laced his fingers behind his neck and leaned back in his chair. “Make sure it’s made of our tartan. I’m thinking she’ll need a tartan sash too, and flats for dancing.” Shouldna he be the one to choose her gifts? By doing so, he could show her how precious she was to him. “I’ll shop for her outfit if ye can get me her sizes.” The idea of taking her to a cèilidh held more appeal by the second. This social event would give her a glimpse into life in the Highlands. It might lighten things between them if she were still upset over his anger.
“I sometimes lose me temper.”
“Aye, ye do. We all do. That’s why ye need to show her all the sides of ye. The good and the bad … and the bear.”
He forked his fingers in his hair, pushing it back. “I canna let her see the bear. Not yet. I need her to care for the man part of me first.” He didn’t want Paisley to faint again. “I ordered her some flowers and couldna think of anything to put on the card but me name.” He scooped his cell off the desk. “Maybe I’ll tell the florist to send along a blank card and I’ll use it to invite her to the cèilidh.”
His mother stood. “Aye, and be prepared for other men to ask her to dance. Give her room.” She picked up the tray she’d brought in. “But don’t be afraid to show her a wee bit of possession. Women like that … in small amounts.”
Small? Hell, I dinna ken if I can do small.
* * *
Paisley walked beside Ronan as he led her through the castle, methodically sharing a bit of family history about each room and its contents. The entire place was a maze of antiquity. Fascination over each room, hall, painting, tapestry and antique furnishing swept her along as Ronan gestured and talked. What would it be like to live among such treasures anchoring her to the past?
“This is Creighton’s office.” Ronan rapped on the door before opening it. “I’ve got Paisley with me. I thought I’d show her yer office.”
She tugged on the back of Ronan’s green shirt. “I’ve seen it already, thank you. I’ll go back to my room now.”
Before she’d finished her pivot to escape, a warm hand settled on her back and her stomach trembled in response. A dark head leaned into her peripheral vision. “Please, Paisley, won’t ye step inside?” Said the spider to the fly.
Her gaze shifted to his brown eyes, their golden flecks more pronounced than usual. His smile was warm and charming. He was obviously in a better mood now. “I was going to call my fiancé.” It wouldn’t hurt to remind Creighton of her engagement to another man.
The golden flecks in his eyes glowed and a faint growl seeped from his throat … or was she hearing things?
“I willna keep ye long, then. Might I have a few words with ye about my foul disposition earlier?” His hand expertly turned her toward his office and he escorted her in.
She glanced around the room. “Where’s Ronan?”
“He went out the side entrance.” Creighton jerked a thumb toward a closed door. “He just got a text about a plumbing problem. Seems Mum’s having a conniption. Would ye care for a Coke? I keep a few at the bar.” The warmth of his hand lingered even after he removed it and strode toward a carved antique server with a small refrigerator next to it. “Please, have a seat.”
She sat in a leather chair facing the fireplace. “Was there really an emergency, or did you want to get me alone?”
“Yes to both questions.” Creighton bumped a matching leather chair with his hip until he’d pushed it to within mere inches of hers. He settled his muscular frame into it. With a snap, he opened a can and extended it to her before popping the tab on his. “Did ye enjoy yer tour of our home?” He stretched his long legs toward the stone hearth and guzzled his drink.
She sipped at hers, willing her stone of nerves to allow the liquid to pass. How could he sit there so calmly, as if they hadn’t embraced and kissed a few hours ago? Well, she could play the denial game too—if her heart would cooperate and quit hammering a salsa beat. “Yes. Ronan makes an excellent guide. So knowledgeable. So interesting.” She sipped her drink again. “So polite.”
A scowl sauntered across his features. His broad black eyebrows dipped to meet his narrowed eyes. He raised the can to his mouth, stilling it before he tipped it to his full lips. “Me brother’s a feckin’ bas’.”
She sighed for effect. “He seems quite virile too. I’m surprised he’s still single.” Goodness, was she playing games with this man? This was so not her style. A shudder galloped through her muscles when he aimed a dark glower her way.
“Careful, leannan. Ye go too far.”
“Oh?” His arrogance was like a boil on her butt—chafing and annoying. “Well, maybe you went a little too far this morning when you yelled at me.”
“I’m not the best at bestowing apologies. In this case, I’m thinking it’s warranted.” He reached to wrap his hand around hers. “I’m sorry fer losing me temper. I made ye cry. I carry no pride for that cowardly act. A real man dinna hurt a woman to the point of tears.”
The man was just too much. Too handsome, too commanding, too arrogant, and at times like this, too gentle. Tears scalded the backs of her eyes and she turned her head, blinking them away, hoping he hadn’t seen them.
A mumbled curse floated her way. Creighton set his can down and stood, pulling her from the chair. “I’m sorry.” He enveloped her in his arms and drew her close. A kiss was pressed to her hair. “Please dinna cry, love.”
He tucked two fingers under her chin and tipped her head. “As laird, I
have many obligations and I take them all seriously. Me extended family depends on me. Their needs are almost always uppermost in me mind. I issue orders and expect them to be followed. I forget sometimes how dogmatic I sound. ’Tis not me wish to order ye about or frighten ye.” He pressed a gentle kiss to first one corner of her mouth and then the other. “I want only the best fer ye, fer ye are all I can think about. Ye’ve become me sweet obsession.”
With just an embrace and a few well-placed kisses, her body quickly warmed, yearning for more. Why him? Why couldn’t Alex turn her on like this Scot, who seemed to intuitively know how to liquefy her insides? Yet as much as she disliked betraying her fiancé, being in Creighton’s arms seemed natural. “I’m not sure I believe what you say.”
“If you’d have been here earlier to see the misery in me eyes, you’d know I speak the truth.” He interspersed kisses to her jaw and neck between words.
“No one’s ever talked to me the way you do.” Certainly never Alex.
His hand forked through the back of her hair and fisted, pulling her face upward so she was forced to look into his eyes. “Aye, lassie. That’s because ye’ve never met a man whose emotions drove him to the edge of desire’s madness.” His lips covered hers, possessive, demanding and tugging her along the trail of longing as if they were both swept away by this sensual madness.
The kiss was electric. It must have been, for it zapped current along her skin and melted the bones in her legs. Her nipples rose into painful points needing his touch, his mouth. Tremors of passion arced from his massive form to hers. A deep groan rumbled, and he eased back enough to close his lips over her lower lip, then gently bite it before sweeping in with his tongue to explore and taste. While he continued his assault on her senses, all guilt for betraying Alex faded. The only person who remained was him—only him.
