Hot for the Scot

by Janice Maynard

  I was homesick suddenly, both for my small apartment and also for my friends and my family and my boring routines. “Thank you,” I said when he poured two cups and handed me mine. I added the sugar he offered. We had no milk or cream, but the coffee was perfect on its own.

  “So what do you do, Angus?” I asked. “When you aren’t performing disaster relief.”

  He sipped his drink slowly, his features painted with light from the dancing flames. “This and that,” he said.

  “Can you be more specific?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been home a little over a year. Building the house kept me plenty busy for a long time. And several of my ex-teammates have come to visit now that I have the room. The months have gone by quickly.”

  “I suppose they have.” I felt my confidence shrivel. I thought we knew each other well enough by now to share our thoughts, feelings, and aspirations. But he had evaded my question. Why? Was there some big secret? Was he a spy for the British government? I’d seen the James Bond movie that was set on the Scottish moors. Maybe my Angus led a dual life.

  I dropped the subject. My fanciful mental explanations were designed to cover up the fact I knew nothing substantive about my host’s current situation. He’d told me plenty about playing football over the years. And about why he decided to retire.

  What I didn’t know was how he saw himself in five years…or ten. And that was important information if I were going to consider staying.

  He poured himself a second cup of coffee. I shook my head when he offered me one as well. I didn’t want to make another pilgrimage to the outhouse.

  Angus gave me a quick smile. “Guess what?” he said.

  “Is this a game of twenty questions?”

  “Just one.”

  “Okay,” I said, humoring him. “What?”

  “We’re definitely leaving for Oban at ten in the morning.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t toy with me. And don’t tempt fate. We don’t need another disaster.” I reached across the table and gently touched the bandage at his temple. It made him look rakish and interesting. “How’s your headache?”

  “Improving.” He took my wrist and kissed the back of my hand. “I’m serious, Hayley. We’re headed south tomorrow.”

  “What about your mother and moving her furniture?”

  “I’ve hired a crew from town. That’s why we can’t leave until midmorning. They’ll arrive at nine and I’ll show them where everything goes and give them instructions.”

  “And your mother is okay with that?”

  He winced. “She was none too pleased when I told her, but she likes to keep me on a short leash now that I’m home for good. She’ll get over it.”

  The description he gave was flavored with indulgent humor. Evidently, he didn’t mind his mother’s demands. But I had cause to worry, because my tourist status was the reason Angus was leaving. Màiri would not look kindly on the woman who was depriving her of her son’s attention.

  We tidied up the cottage and decided to head back. I would have been happy to walk again, but Angus had brought the SUV. He was supposed to be resting after his head injury, so I climbed into the front seat without protest.

  Annis had prepared our meal this evening. She wasn’t as good a cook as Màiri, but she didn’t like being beholden to anyone. The crew tomorrow would move her things as well.

  Dinner was not exactly pleasant. Up until today Màiri had treated me with the utmost courtesy. Now I picked up a definite hostile vibe. I told myself I was imagining things. She was a lovely woman with a kind heart. Surely she couldn’t be upset that Angus and I were headed out of town. He’d spent an entire week helping her, and he had made arrangements for tomorrow.

  As a dutiful son, I couldn’t see that he had a single shortcoming.

  Nevertheless, the atmosphere around the table was strained. Maybe I was the only one who noticed. Angus seemed oblivious to any undercurrents.

  We all four pitched in to clean up after dinner. When everything was back in order, I excused myself. “I have some letters to write, and I need to pack my bag. I’ll see you all in the morning.”

  The “all” was for Angus’s benefit. With his mother’s nose out of joint, I didn’t want to be caught in flagrante delicto. Time enough for my Highlander and me to be intimate when we were finally alone and miles away from his small hometown.

  Angus clearly did not share my opinions. I had been in my room barely fifteen minutes when he knocked on the door. I let him in, looking to the left and right for witnesses. “Why are you here?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. The house was well built, but the guest rooms were all in this same wing, and voices carried.

  He closed the door and backed me up against it, his long fingers manacling my wrists as he pinned my hands above my head. “You know why I’m here, lass.”

  “We’ve already had sex twice today,” I pointed out. Even to my own ears I sounded like an old maid schoolteacher.

  Angus only laughed. “Och, woman. I’m making up for lost time. And I’ve discovered a liking for all things American. Especially wee, beautiful women with big eyes and crazy hair.”

  I winced. “The rain did a number on my head today. I was going to take a bath in a minute and try to tame it down.”

  He rested his hips against mine. “I could join you, Hayley.”

  I was tempted. Really tempted. And honestly, taking a bath together wasn’t exactly a page out of the Kama Sutra. Still, I was constrained by the fact that his mother and Annis were nearby.

  “Let’s wait,” I begged. “Until we’re alone.”

  His scowl was sheer masculine frustration. “We’re alone now.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I shifted from one foot to the other…restless…needy. Was I trying to prove something by denying us both?

  Angus stared down at me, his expression hard to read. But his eyes blazed, and heat poured off his body. “You canna have any idea what you’re doing to me. I won’t sleep a wink.”

  “This is for the best,” I told him, my reassurance pedantic at best. “After a good night’s rest, you’ll feel so much better.”

  “Fine.” He bit off the word and stepped back, his arms crossed over his chest. “Have it your way.”

  My heart squeezed with emotions that scared me. “I think I could fall in love with you, Angus.” I blurted it out uncensored, eager to let him know I wanted him as much as he wanted me.

  If I had whacked him in the head with a two-by-four, he couldn’t have looked anymore shocked. His mouth opened and shut. His color rose. So did the bulge at the front of his trousers.

  Without answering me, without a word of reciprocity or reassurance, he opened the door and walked out.

  Chapter 27

  I cried myself to sleep, and I didn’t even know why, not really. Nothing had changed, though the homesickness I had experienced in the crofter’s cottage returned with a vengeance. I needed my phone and the Internet and my friends. I was not used to navigating emotional rapids without backup.

  It must have been after one when I finally sniffled my way to oblivion. I tossed and turned and dreamed wild dreams. When my alarm went off just before eight, I groaned, suddenly not at all excited about driving and touring and handling a grouchy Scottish male.

  When I was dressed in comfy jeans and a pink, long-sleeve T-shirt, I sat on my bed to put on my socks and shoes. I had tucked a practical “travel dress” in my bag in case we went to dinner somewhere fancy.

  The thought of breakfast made my stomach do flips, and not the good kind. I sneaked to the kitchen and grabbed a banana, deciding to hide out in my room. In the sink there was evidence that several people had at least had tea and toast, but they had disappeared.

  As I passed through the foyer on the way back to the guest quarters, the heavy iron knocker at the front entrance thumped three times. Since I was the only one nearby, I opened the door and smiled. “G
ood morning. May I help you?”

  I wondered if this was one of the men from the village coming either late or early. But he was dressed in creased trousers and a conservative blue shirt and didn’t resemble the crew Angus had described.

  “I’m Fergus McKinnon,” he said. “Is Angus around?”

  “Somewhere. But he may be tied up at the moment. Would Mrs. Munro do?”

  “Aye. Thank you.”

  I led him to the small sitting area just off the foyer and offered him a seat. Uncomfortable in my role as hostess, I went to Màiri’s door and knocked. “Ms. Munro. There’s someone here to see you.” We had been on first name terms, but now I felt a sense of constraint.

  The door opened. She nodded briefly. “I’ll come.” She sailed past me, her nose ever-so-slightly in the air. It was clear to me now that I was persona non grata.

  I trailed behind her for no other reason than that I was curious about our morning caller. When Màiri saw who it was, she actually blushed.

  “Why, Fergus,” she said. “What are ye doin’ here?”

  She half-turned to me, her manner flustered. “Fergus is the minister at the kirk.”

  He smiled politely, but he never took his eyes off Angus’s mother. I fancied I saw in his expression something other than the friendliness of a neighbor. Or maybe I was futilely playing matchmaker to make way for my own agenda.

  “Pleased to meet you,” I said, shaking the preacher’s hand.

  Fergus waited for the two of us to take a seat and then joined us. “I came to thank Angus,” he said. “For the grant money. But you should know, Màiri, he gave it in honor of you.”

  Her smile was genuine. “I didn’t know that. About me, I mean. He’s a dear boy.”

  Fergus cocked his head. “’Twill require a fair amount of paperwork to dole it all out. I wonder if you’d consider spending a few hours this next week helping me? I’m not the most organized man in the world.”

  Wow. The clergyman was either naïve or a smooth operator. What woman could resist coming to the aid of a befuddled man? I gave him full points for creativity.

  Màiri muttered a few excuses, but in the end agreed. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be. Numbers aren’t my strong suit. But I’d be happy to give it a try.”

  Fergus beamed. “Brilliant. And I’d like to take you to dinner one evening if you’ll allow me.”

  Angus showed up about then, putting an end to the courtship that was happening under my nose. “Hello, Reverend McKinnon,” he said.

  “I think you should call me Fergus, lad. You’re certainly old enough now.”

  Angus grinned. “I suppose that means you’ve forgiven me for wrapping the churchyard in toilet paper?”

  The reverend smiled. “Forgiveness comes from the Lord, my boy. You and I are good. Especially after your generous gift.”

  “I’m glad I could help.” Angus looked at his mother. “The men are ready whenever you are, Mum.”

  Fergus raised an eyebrow. “What’s afoot today?”

  “I’m moving back into my house,” Màiri said, beaming.

  Angus gave me a sideways glance before addressing his guest. “Hayley and I are off to Oban for a couple of days. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to make sure Mum gets settled in. The lads are dependable, but it never hurts to have an overseer.”

  “’Twill be my honor,” Fergus said. “Are we ready? Shall we be off?”

  Màiri looked at her son, a small frown line between her brows. “I’d still feel happier, Angus, if you were around to make sure all goes well.”

  He put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “You’ll be fine.”

  I waited until Fergus engaged Màiri in conversation. Then I whispered to Angus, “I’m ready whenever you are, if we’re still going, that is.” I paused. “I’m sorry we argued.”

  He glared at me. “Of course we’re still going. If you’re talking about last night, forget about it.” He grimaced, his gaze on the older couple. “I’ll scoot them out of here, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Nothing is ever as easy or as quick as it should be. By the time Angus persuaded his mother that she and Fergus should be waiting on the moving truck at the other end, it was almost eleven. Angus found me inside. His expression was harried.

  I put my hand on his forearm, feeling the hard muscle flex beneath my touch. “I’m on vacation,” I said. “No worries. We’ll get there when we get there.”

  His gaze roved my face intently, though his next words were prosaic. “I wanted to take you somewhere nice for lunch, but at this rate, we’ll be starved.”

  “Then let’s forget about lunch. We can make do with fruit and whatever else is in the kitchen. Right?”

  “You’re a wee, restful woman, Hayley Smith. I like that about you. No drama.” He held me close for a moment, my cheek pressed against his chest. I could hear the steady thump of his heart beneath soft cotton.

  I pulled away first, mildly disgruntled and definitely disconcerted. Was he saying I wasn’t exciting? Novelty was in my favor. Our physical relationship was still fresh out of the box. But the facts spoke for themselves. This trip to Scotland was the most adventuresome thing I had ever done.

  Angus, on the other hand, had seen a great deal of the globe. Despite his small-town upbringing, he was more cosmopolitan and sophisticated than I could ever hope to be. Would he get bored with me eventually?

  Finally, when our bags were stowed and Angus slid behind the wheel with me in the passenger seat, I gave myself a lecture. I had never been a proponent of carpe diem. I was more of a “pros and cons” type of person. Thoughtful decisions. Rational evaluation.

  But that didn’t make me less of a woman. I couldn’t change who I was deep down. Sure, I had spread my wings by traveling solo from Inverness. And I had jumped headlong into new experiences in the last few weeks. But if Angus was going to fall in love with me, I had to be myself.

  He shot me a glance when we had been driving for half an hour. “You’re awfully quiet this morning. Are ye feelin’ well?”

  I nodded. “Yes, thank you.” Ugh. I winced inwardly. Was this awkwardness all on my side? Was I imagining the atmosphere of constraint between us?

  Maybe not. And maybe my impulsive words in my bedroom last night were to blame. Angus had done nothing to indicate he even remembered what I had said. Still, I might have spooked him. I had used the “L” word. Abstractly. But inescapably.

  I think I could fall in love with you, Angus Munro.

  Well, I certainly wasn’t going to bring up the subject again. If he thought I had been naïve and socially clumsy, I wasn’t inclined to draw attention to my gaffe. Even if my heart ached at having my quasi-declaration ignored.

  Angus had produced a new vehicle for our trip, a shiny black Mercedes-Benz coupe. It had all the bells and whistles. I particularly liked the retractable top that folded away like a thief in the night.

  Back home I drove a small VW beetle. Though this car was small as well, that’s where any similarities ended. The Mercedes hugged the road, its capacity for speed palpable. Angus drove with confidence.

  I ate an apple, more because I wanted something to occupy my hands than because I was hungry. I also feigned a great interest in the map Angus had given me from the glove box. We were headed south on the A82, the same two-lane highway that brought me to Drumnadrochit, but Angus promised several detours along the way today.

  The weather was changeable, one minute bright and sunny, the next moody and somber as clouds chased across the sky. A steady wind whipped across the landscape. I was prepared for anything, but I hoped the rain would hold off. I wanted to spend as much time outside as possible.

  I was in love with the rugged Scottish landscape.

  As we crested a small rise, Angus pulled to the side of the road and turned off the engine. “Ye’ll want some pictures here.”

  I got out of the car and stared. On the map, this spot was de
signated as a scenic view. The tepid designation fell far short of the mark. Angus and I could be standing on the edge of Eden, no other humans in sight.

  The sky overhead roiled with clouds in every shade of gray and white. As far as the eye could see, gentle mountains off in the distance rippled one into the next, green to gray to blue and back to green again.

  The landscape was punctuated by a stunning lake. Between us and the water, a stand of small fir trees lent another bit of color to the view.

  I turned to find Angus staring at me with a small smile. He leaned against the hood of the car, hands in his pockets. “Takes your breath away, doesna’ it, lass…”

  “Yes.” I wanted to whisper as if I were inside a magnificent cathedral. In the space of a heartbeat, time rolled away. Except for the narrow road, I was seeing the world as Claire had in Outlander.

  I found myself stunned and exhilarated and on the brink of tears.

  When I could tear my gaze away from the vista, I discovered another facet of this primeval slice of Scotland. At our feet and in either direction, all the way down to the line of evergreens, were stone cairns, small stacks of rock one and two feet high.

  “What is this place?” I bent to examine the nearest pile. There were hundreds of them dotting the sloping grassy field.

  Angus lifted his face into the wind, his hair tumbling across his forehead. “No one knows who started it, though it’s modern. I suppose people simply stop by and add another stack to leave their mark.”

  “Incredible.” I felt no burning desire to add my own creation. But I spent several minutes walking among the markers.

  Geology was not my strong suit. I thought I could identify granite and sandstone. I’d read somewhere that out in the western islands you could see gneiss that was three billion years old.

  Angus crouched beside me. “We used to be neighbors, you ken.”

  “Oh?” I had no clue what he was driving at. I had decided to sit down cross-legged to get a close-up picture of one of my favorite cairns.

  “Aye.” He picked up a pebble and tossed it in the air, catching it deftly as it tumbled back to earth. “If you go back in time, Scotland broke off from North America. ’Twas east of Greenland, I believe.”