Man, he would never get Aura out of his life.
“When I met you, you stayed so close to home, working in that closed-in factory, and you didn’t seem happy about it, to tell the truth, but there you stayed anyway. And here, just now...” He glanced toward the castle ruins. “Running through the fields, you seemed happy. You were free.”
“You’re psychoanalyzing me again.”
“Yes,” Malcolm said. “And I’ll stop now, because I hate it when people talk about me as if they know me, too.”
Curious, she glanced at him. “Well...” She was wavering. “Where would I stay? If I did decide to extend my time, that is?”
He was thinking on the fly. None of this was planned out—which was a completely new way of living for him. He usually plotted his life ten steps ahead. But with Kristin’s presence, everything had changed. He felt refreshed.
“In my flat in Edinburgh.” He held up his hand before she could protest. “The flat next to mine is empty at the moment, and since I know the landlord, I could ask him—”
The shrill ringing of a phone sounded. His phone, with a very distinctive ringtone. Malcolm stilled.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“My uncle.” He reached over and shut off the phone.
“You should take his call.”
“No,” he said. “I’m talking to you.”
“It might be about Born in Vermont.”
He stared at her. “Why would you think that?”
“Because he seemed very interested in what I had to say about it.”
“You...had an extended conversation with him about Born in Vermont?”
“Of course. Why else would he have told me to work with Malcolm.” She peered at him. “You see, I can psychoanalyze you, too. Did you know that your whole expression changed at his ringtone? You became fierce-looking. How do you work with him, anyway? What kind of arrangement do you two have?”
“Okay. I’ll have to look into this on Monday,” he suddenly realized, groaning. “We don’t know who owns the rights to Born in Vermont, us or Jay. That’s the first thing my uncle is going to want to know. If it is us, are we leaving money on the table? If not, do we want to buy the rights from Jay? These are the things my uncle will be concerned about.”
She bit her lip, as if debating whether to tell him something.
“Kristy?” he asked. “What is it? Is there something you’re not saying?”
Finally, she sighed. “Hear me out for a minute, okay? Did Jay Astley get a large sum of money from Sage in the Aura buyout?”
“Ah...he sold his brands to us,” Malcolm said. “And he’s a consultant on our payroll, so he’s been well compensated. I can’t tell you details, but...why do you ask?”
“Because here’s my problem, Malcolm. No matter who owns the formulations, I need to figure out something to do with the old Aura building so that we can keep people employed. You said you’re putting it up for sale. Well, I originally came to Edinburgh because I wanted to talk with John Sage about that. Like I told you, Laura was working on a new product line she called Born in Vermont, something she felt was outside the branding of Aura. The hallmark is that everything about that product needs to be made in Vermont, because of the way it’s branded. So, if it turns out that Sage owns it but isn’t interested in the line, then I’ll need you to offer it back to Jay.” She looked at him hopefully.
First of all, Jay Astley was so much in debt, he wouldn’t have the capital to buy much of anything from anyone. But he couldn’t tell Kristin that. “Have you talked with him about your ideas?” he asked.
“Well, yes, but he thinks you own it. So my plan now is to explain Born in Vermont to Sage. That’s why I came to Scotland in the first place.”
“I see,” he said.
“For the past twenty-four hours I’ve been playing by your rules, Malcolm. I’ve been very good—you have to admit.” She smiled at him. “And since I’ve found my castle, I’m feeling even more empowered. I’m up for taking a few days beyond Monday to stay with you, but only if that stay includes working on the Born in Vermont proposal.”
She shrugged. “And, if you ascertain that you don’t own the brand...then I can go home and tell Jay that he has the rights to it. Besides, you promised not to pack up the plant equipment until I got home, and I can’t imagine you’d go back on your word now.”
She had him there. Between a rock and a hard place.
Malcolm crossed his arms, thinking it over. Listening to the rain patter on the roof.
There was still no way he could recommend that his family invest in Born in Vermont. But, if she stayed a few more days, then at least he’d have the opportunity to spend more time with her.
“Tell me more about this Edinburgh flat of yours,” she prodded.
“You’d be staying with me, essentially,” he said.
She nodded slowly. “I’m just having a hard time seeing you in a flat.” She cocked her head and laughed, showing her dimples. “I expected something totally different for you.”
“Like what?” he asked, curious.
“Well, you’re so hyped up on security...” She tapped a finger to her lips. “I pictured you in a stone fortress of a Highland castle, very remote, with twenty-four-hour armed guards and security for the laird.”
“You just described my family’s home in Inverness,” he said, shaking his head. Leave it to her and her romantic imagination.
Her eyes bugged out. “Your family lives in a castle in Inverness? Seriously?”
He grinned at her. “Glad to finally impress you.”
“It’s always been my dream to stay in a real castle in Scotland.” A giddy smile spread over her face. “It’s not a ruin, is it, Malcolm?”
“No, it’s real. It’s livable.”
“Could I possibly stay there instead?” she begged. “I’ll keep this little car nearby—” she patted the glove compartment “—and stay, just as a guest, at least until we go to your office on Monday to meet with your uncle.”
“But my family lives there.”
“So? You met my family. It’s only fair.”
“But...” His mouth moved, but he couldn’t find the words. Emotion, dread and fear invaded him. “I’m very protective of them. I don’t just...let...” He let his voice trail off.
“Don’t you ever bring friends home?” she asked gently.
“No. Of course not. My sister lives there,” he blurted.
She tilted her head to him.
Great. “My sister is an artist,” he explained. She was reclusive, but that was none of Kristin’s business. “She paints landscapes. She just needs...peace and quiet.”
Kristin’s eyes widened further. She seemed even more interested than before.
“You don’t want to stay there,” he said hurriedly. “Trust me.”
“Actually, I do want to. Very much. You intrigue me, Malcolm.” She smiled at him. “And if I’m to assist you with making your recommendation to your uncle, and entice you with the Born in Vermont products, then what better way to do so than to get to know you better? The real you.” She wrapped her tartan shawl around her shoulders and smiled at him harder.
The unfortunate part was, Malcolm could totally understand what she wanted, because he understood her. In addition to deciding to bewitch him over Born in Vermont—which would not happen—she also wanted to stay in his authentic Highland castle and use her treacherous death-trap car to zoom around the countryside, visiting the Culloden battlefield and driving along the lochs and seeking Loch Nessie—doing the things that tourists flocked to his home country to see.
“Yes,” she mused, “I feel much more empowered, and I think this is what I prefer to do until Monday.” She nodded. “In any event, Malcolm, here are our choices—I stay in your family’s
castle, or, you drop me off in Edinburgh and meet me in your office on Monday morning, like your uncle said.”
He felt his teeth clenching. The helplessness rising in him.
But then an idea occurred to him. If Kristin stayed with him even a few days longer than Monday, then he could take her to the Byrne Glennie plant, just so she could see, firsthand, the possibilities for her future if she decided to stay and work with him.
Yes, she had already turned him down, but that was because she hadn’t seen the facilities for herself. This time, he would drag her kicking and screaming if he had to.
“Is that a yes on the castle?” She smiled at him.
He noticed that the rain had stopped. There was a bittersweet feeling to him. He really did want her with him, for just a while longer.
But at what cost?
To bring her home to his family was to bring her awfully close to him. Closer than he’d ever let anyone. So close that there would be no turning back.
Isn’t that what he’d wanted, though? What better way to understand Kristin than to show her the truth of his world.
“Okay, we’ll give it a try, but just for a day or two,” he agreed reluctantly.
She gifted him with a smile. “One more question. Could you also teach me to drive this left-handed stick-shift? It’s a safety issue,” she said, wide-eyed. “You never know when I might need the skill.”
“Aye. Right,” he said sarcastically.
Because Kristin would do what Kristin would do. And he would rather be the man who showed her how to do it than be the man who left it for another to do the job.
No matter how much it hurt, because the other option would hurt worse.
* * *
THEY DROVE THREE hours to get to the MacDowall castle, over winding single-lane roads that skirted the edge of a loch with deep blue water.
The castle itself was approached by a long driveway. Gray stone walls and a turret stood in the middle of a green spongy field atop a hill with a long view of a valley.
It looked like a fairy tale to Kristin. And at the entrance to the drive there was even a guardhouse with a security person working inside. Kristin had been joking when she’d suggested it to Malcolm. But it was true.
She wrapped the soft cashmere McGunnert shawl around her and gazed at the serious Highlander sitting beside her, one hand guiding the steering wheel, the other settled on his lap.
Everything was going her way, at last. For the first time in a long time, Kristin felt hope. If she put her mind to it and believed in herself, then she could accomplish miracles. Already she’d achieved more than she’d dreamed she could.
She had traveled to Edinburgh. She had met with Mr. Sage. Together with Malcolm, she had found her grandmother’s castle, and now, with him again, they would find a solution to keeping the factory open by implementing Born in Vermont.
Yes, there was something about first seeking out and then finding that castle—when nobody had believed in her—that gave her renewed confidence in herself. Kristin hadn’t felt this free and capable since, well, she had left college and gone to New York.
She needed to keep this feeling going. The only complication was Malcolm. She had kissed him again, and there was no going back and erasing that from either of their minds.
She wriggled in her seat, sighing. She had enjoyed it immensely, though. That man just knew how to kiss her. He also understood that she didn’t want a hookup or a relationship, so there was freedom there. He even knew she was leaving in a few days and had agreed to that.
The situation was perfectly safe, really. She didn’t need to worry about getting in too deep with him.
She didn’t want to get too deep. Through trial and error, she’d learned that about herself. As much as she might fantasize about finding a soul mate in her weaker moments, it just didn’t seem to be in the stars for her.
What she needed to do was to focus on meeting his family and searching out and discovering anything that might help her strengthen her quest to convince Malcolm that Born in Vermont should be part of his company.
There had to be some way to help him relax his constant vigilance of the bottom line—it just couldn’t be through a romantic interest in her, because that was the one commitment she could never give him. He lived in Scotland, and she lived in Vermont.
Malcolm drove the ugly white rental car up the crescent-shaped drive, stopping in front of the main doors to the castle. By now it was twilight, and the setting was utterly romantic. And utterly deserted.
Malcolm got out, took her suitcase from the hatchback and led the way inside.
He indicated that she walk before him. She’d expected a big, crumbling, drafty place, but instead, the main castle entry was nicely renovated and surprisingly homey and modern. An airy receiving room was before them, with comfortable-looking couches and a large stone fireplace, currently unlit.
“How long has your family lived here?” she asked.
“We moved in when I was young.” Malcolm had turned gloomier and quieter. He picked up a coaster with a baronial shield on it, and then replaced it on the table.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, walking the length of the great mantelpiece, carved from mahogany. “Do people ever tour the castle? Is it open to the public?”
He laughed dryly. “No.” At her questioning glance, he said, “It dates from the sixteen-hundreds, but was never open to the public. My uncle used to live here. He purchased it decades ago, but then moved to Edinburgh to be closer to our company headquarters.”
Malcolm opened the telescoping handle on her luggage. “Come. I’ll show you to a guest room upstairs.” He didn’t make eye contact with her, and she wasn’t sure why. Curious, she followed him over beautiful tartan-patterned carpets and past a lush wall tapestry that looked like unicorns in a forest.
“Is anyone home this weekend?” she asked, hurrying after him up the beautiful, wide-curving stone staircase.
“Yes, my parents and my sister are here.”
“Tell me about them. I’m looking forward to meeting your sister, in particular.”
Malcolm stopped for a moment before leading her down one of the two hallways that joined at right angles. “Rhiannon is younger than me by two years,” he said quietly, leading her down another tartan-patterned carpet. “Since she didn’t greet us, I assume she’s either walking the grounds or working in her studio.”
“You said she was a painter?” Kristin remarked.
“Yes. She’s really talented. Her oil landscapes sell to collectors all over the world.” He paused. “I have one hanging in my office in Edinburgh.”
“I’d like to see it on Monday.”
He glanced sharply at her. “We’ll talk about it later.”
One step at a time. She hadn’t expected his total capitulation, but she would insist on traveling to the city with him. After work hours, maybe she could convince him to take her on a sightseeing drive, too. She would enjoy seeing all the landmarks.
“Sounds like a plan,” she said.
Malcolm put his hand lightly on her shoulder and guided her to the bedroom she would be staying in. It was clean and welcoming with a beautifully ornate, carved four-poster bed. She felt very lucky.
“It looks like Paul made the room up for you,” Malcolm remarked.
She’d heard Malcolm place a phone call while they’d been en route, but she hadn’t known to whom. “Paul?” she asked.
“My parents’ butler.” Malcolm smiled slightly at her expression. “Don’t get too excited. Paul is the only full-time staff they have. And he’s been with us forever.” He glanced at his watch. “He’s probably serving my parents their afternoon tea now.”
Sure enough, Malcolm led Kristin downstairs again, this time to the back of the castle through a dining area with windows overlo
oking a garden and a small yew maze. They came to another sitting room, where the butler, Paul—a middle-aged man dressed in a black suit and tie—poured tea in a china set and served it beside another fireplace.
Though the castle was pleasant and new inside, the traditions were apparently old. Seeming to brace himself, Malcolm formally introduced his mother and father to Kristin. The four of them sat in comfortable wing chairs and sipped their tea from delicate teacups and saucers, which they placed in their laps. A far cry from dinner with her own boisterous family. Malcolm’s parents were polite and formal, by Kristin’s family’s standards.
Malcolm introduced her as “my friend from America who I invited to stay with us this week.”
That pleased Kristin. It also seemed to put his parents at ease, too. Malcolm’s father nodded to her. To Kristin, he seemed pleasant, but aristocratic in bearing. For a Saturday evening, presumably relaxing at home, he was dressed up, wearing wool pants, a collared shirt and a blue V-neck sweater the same color as his and Malcolm’s eyes.
Once tea was poured, he idly scratched his dog’s ears and chatted with Kristin about the history of the castle. He also talked to Malcolm about his gardening plans for the spring.
His mother kept smiling at Malcolm as if she wanted to get him alone. Otherwise, she was mildly pleasant to Kristin. Not overly familiar and not too distant, either. Just right.
Kristin breathed a huge sigh of relief. She didn’t want anyone to get their expectations up—or down—about her and Malcolm. As far as the world was concerned, they were just friends. Yes, she would feel better, perhaps, if he made clear that they were work colleagues, but again, it was something she could work on.
After tea, Malcolm escorted Kristin on a tour of the rest of the castle. There were three levels, ranging from a basement with a rustic kitchen, to the ground floor with the common rooms, to the second floor with eight bedrooms.
She was curious, but she didn’t ask Malcolm which bedroom was his, and he didn’t volunteer the information, either.
It would be strange, she mused, being separated from him, after last evening’s B&B bedroom share. And it was even odder that she didn’t feel ecstatic about it.
The Sweetest Hours (Harlequin Superromance) Page 17
