Not Quite a Scot

by Janice Maynard

  He wiped his hands on a rag and walked toward me. It took everything I had not to back up. “That’s it?” he asked.

  His expression was impossible to read. What did he expect from me? The man had never once indicated the two of us were anything more than a pleasant interlude. “You knew when my flight was scheduled.” I tried not to sound defensive. I was about to go to pieces, and I didn’t want him to see me cry.

  “Have I done something to upset you, Duchess?” He looked at me so intently, it felt as if he could see inside my soul.

  “Of course not.” I summoned a smile. “Why would you say that?”

  “So maybe you’re still in search of that illusive Scotsman? Hoping to find him in Inverness before your time is up?”

  I think he meant the question to be lighthearted. Instead, I heard anger and frustration in his voice.

  “You are who you are, Finley. I am who I am. Let’s be glad for what we’ve shared in these few weeks. The situation with your father is going to reach a critical point soon. You’ll have to help your sister.” I paused. “This thing with you and me was never going to be forever. I knew that.”

  “Of course,” he said. The ice in his words made me flinch inside. “If you’d been more clear about your departure date, I’d have planned a going-away party.”

  “I didn’t decide myself until yesterday. Now that you’ve made peace with your dad and Vanessa, you don’t need me anymore.”

  Desperately, I wanted him to contradict me. To tell me he loved me. To forbid me to leave.

  Apparently, my fairy-tale story didn’t end that way.

  Finley nodded curtly. “Let me know when you make it to Inverness. So I’ll know you’re okay.” He stepped toward me and kissed me briefly on the lips. “Goodbye, Duchess.”

  * * * *

  I turned and fled. Somehow I made it out of town and took the correct turns. Every emotion was locked down. I clutched the steering wheel and stared at the road, determined not to cause an accident.

  Once, I had to stop for a small herd of sheep.

  Still my eyes were dry.

  At last, I crossed safely over the Skye Bridge and onto the mainland. Not long after, an unlikely moment broke the dam on my tears.

  Ahead of me sat the majestic Eileen Donan Castle, settled like an aging queen on a small peninsula in the loch. I hadn’t stopped on my trip over to Skye. Once I met Finley, I had counted on him taking me to the castle one day. He said it was a grand idea and promised we’d make the time as soon as the motorcycle was done.

  I pulled to the side of the road and let the tears fall.

  Something about castles always reminded me of Outlander. I hadn’t really expected to find an eighteenth century Scotsman to fall madly in love with me. That was completely illogical.

  I certainly hadn’t anticipated visiting a stone circle and being whisked back to the 1700s. Everyone knew time travel was a fun idea but highly impractical from a scientific point of view.

  So what did I expect from Scotland? And why was I so distraught?

  It was my own fault, really. If I had not lollygagged in Inverness that first day, if I had made it to Skye in broad daylight, I would likely never have met Finley Craig. I would have stayed at Cedric’s house—bad as it was in the beginning—and ridden out the storm.

  I’d told myself I wanted solitude. Instead, I had found love.

  The thing about visiting a very old country was that it put things in perspective. How many men and women had walked these moors? How many had faced grief and loss, famine and death? The old world, the time of Outlander, was not a forgiving place. A woman’s tears were worth very little.

  What mattered were the bigger causes.

  And yet, against all odds, men and women still fell in love. Somehow I would have to find the resolve to be thankful for my adventure and never to let my two friends see how deeply I’d been hurt during my Highland sojourn.

  For the next three days, I checked obsessively with the desk clerk at my hotel for messages. I knew very well that Finley could find me. Days ago he had asked me where I stayed when I arrived from London. Inverness was either a large town or a small city. Any way you looked at it, even if Finley had forgotten the name of the hotel, he would be able to locate me.

  Every day he didn’t come, I fell deeper into my pity party for one.

  After the fifth day, I knew my Highland hero wasn’t in love with me…not even a little bit. No amount of pep talks made me feel better. I was desperate for my friends to return, so I could go home and get over this painful chapter in my life.

  The Saturday morning of our rendezvous dawned bright and beautiful, worlds away from the dreadful weather that had greeted us upon our arrival weeks before. I checked out of my room and asked the hotel to store my bags until mid-afternoon.

  My two friends and I were to catch a three o’clock train back to London where we would spend the night near the station and fly out of Heathrow the following morning.

  I made a point of arriving at the cafe early. The lunch menu, though small, sounded delicious. I selected a table, ordered a cup of tea, and sat down with my back to the wall. I didn’t want any surprises. If I could see Hayley and Willow coming, I’d be able to compose my expression and greet them with appropriate excitement.

  Stirring a single packet of sugar into my cup, I stared down into the warm liquid and told myself I wasn’t going to cry. I hated women who blubbered all the time. I was McKenzie Taylor. I had everything in the world a woman could ask for…except Finley. Nobody’s life was perfect.

  Hayley was the first to arrive. She burst through the door with a huge smile on her face. “McKenzie,” she screeched. “I’ve missed you!”

  Feeling her arms close around me took a bit of the hurt away. “I’ve missed you, too.” I hugged her tightly until she protested.

  “I have to breathe, silly woman.”

  Only when we separated did I see the man standing behind her. My eyes rounded. He was gorgeous. Tall and lanky and muscled in all the right places, he also had what looked to be a perpetual tan.

  “Introduce me,” I said.

  Hayley grinned. “This is Angus Munro. I met him in Drumnadrochit. There’s more, but let’s wait for Willow. I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

  Fortunately, our missing friend was only seconds behind. She blew into the room with an almost palpable air excitement. Her eyes, usually so guarded, radiated happiness. Behind her strode a tall, extremely handsome, and dignified man. He looked at her with such intense emotion it was almost embarrassing to witness something so intimate.

  The three of us women hugged and laughed and hugged again. Then, along with the men, we sat down. I was clearly the fifth wheel.

  After the waitress jotted down our orders, Hayley took Angus’s hand. “We have some big plans underway,” she said. “First I have to go home and teach until they can find my replacement. I can’t leave them stranded here at the first of the school year. After that, I’ll be moving to Scotland.”

  “Moving?” My mouth was dry.

  Hayley beamed. “Angus is starting a permanent soccer program for kids all over the United Kingdom. He’s asked me to used my training and skills to make the school a reality.”

  Angus kissed her cheek. “And,” he said, “important footnote…the lass is going to marry me.”

  Hayley blushed, all starry-eyed and adorable as we exclaimed and congratulated them.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Munro. That name sounds familiar.”

  Hayley nodded. “Angus is an internationally famous soccer star.”

  “It’s football,” he protested with a pained expression. “And please…I’m just a regular Scotsman these days.”

  Willow wriggled in her chair. “Is it my turn?”

  Chapter 30

  Hayley squeezed her arm. “I didn’t mean to hog the limelight. Of course it’s your turn.”

  Willow had gained s
ome much-needed weight. I didn’t know how else to explain her demeanor except to say she seemed at peace. It was a subtle change, though an important one.

  I lifted my voice in order to be heard in the noisy café. “Introduce him, Willow. Please.”

  She took a breath. “This is Bryce, Laird McBrae. He lives in a castle. I love him.”

  Bryce grinned, smoothing Willow’s hair behind her ear. “What she’s trying to say is that our relationship got off to a rocky start, but I won her over with an aging family legacy that’s a millstone around my neck.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “So two weddings on the way?”

  Willow shook her head. “No big rush. Bryce has offered to fly my mother and any of you who want to come back over here to Scotland for a destination wedding.”

  I stared at her in bemusement. Willow, the cynical, hard-working woman with the chip on her shoulder had met a Scottish laird and was going to get married and live in his castle. Maybe Outlander wasn’t so far-fetched after all.

  And Hayley, bookish, earnest Hayley, who barely knew the difference between a pop fly and a home run, was going to marry an elite athlete and teach young children how to play soccer. Maybe I was dreaming.

  The two couples began to discuss wedding details, unintentionally sidelining me for the moment. I excused myself and walked up to the counter to add something to my lunch order. It was a flimsy pretext. I needed a moment to breathe.

  I was thrilled for my friends, truly I was, absolutely over the moon that this bucket list trip had turned out so well for them. Still, my wounded heart ached so badly, I rubbed my chest.

  Had I made a mistake? Should I have stuck around and tried to convince Finley that my love for him was the real thing? That nothing in his past mattered if he and I could be together?

  I felt my eyes get hot again. Blinking back the tears, I bit down hard on my bottom lip. There was no way in hell I was going to ruin this moment for my two friends. I had to suck it up and be a mature, rational woman. So what if I was hurting badly? I’d get over it. I always had before…

  The clerk handed me my change.

  “Since when do you take two sugars in your tea?”

  The voice behind me sounded familiar.

  I whirled around. “Finley?” I wanted to put a hand on his arm to make sure he was real. I didn’t dare. “What are you doing in Inverness?”

  He jerked his head toward our table in the back. “Are those your friends?”

  I nodded. “Now is not a good time, Finley.”

  His expression softened. “Don’t worry. I won’t make a scene. Wait here.”

  Before I could stop him, he wound his way in between the tightly packed tables and said something to my friends and their significant others.

  In unison, all four turned and stared at me.

  Finley returned. “We’re good,” he said. “Let’s go outside.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  He steered me out the door and around the edge of the building into a narrow alleyway. Unlike such locations back home, this corridor between streets was decorated with pots of geraniums all along the way. At the moment, Finley and I were the only people present.

  “I told them not to go anywhere…that we would be back soon.”

  “Oh.” I stared at my feet.

  He bent his head and looked at me. “Aren’t you going to ask why I didn’t come after you?”

  “I know why. You don’t love me. You don’t want a rich blonde woman in your life.” A little of my pique echoed in the words, even though I had tried to speak with dispassion.

  “You forgot gorgeous,” he said.

  “I’m not gorgeous. Vanessa is gorgeous.”

  Finley lifted his face to the sky. I saw the muscles in his jaw work. “Please don’t piss me off, Duchess. I’ve had a hell of a week.”

  “Well, boohoo,” I cried. “It’s not my fault.” This time I couldn’t stop the tears that welled up and rolled down my cheeks. I dashed them away angrily.

  “Oh, Duchess.” He folded me into his arms and crushed me against his chest until I could barely breathe. Beneath my cheek, his heart beat rapidly. “I love you, McKenzie. I swear I do. I never even saw it coming.”

  I pulled back, confused. “What?”

  “Cupid’s arrow, the fickle finger of fate, my Waterloo. I fell so damned deep and hard I couldn’t even find my way back to the surface to breathe. You’re everywhere in my house. I took your pillowcases so the housekeeper wouldn’t wash them. How pathetic is that?”

  “You love me?” I zeroed in on the three words that were most important. “Then why did you let me suffer for over a week? Why did you let me think I was the only one?” I jabbed a finger in his chest. “You broke my heart, Finley.”

  He tipped back my head and kissed me, long and hard and desperately. Even though I told myself I hated him…or at least I wanted to…I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. When he finally released me, I had almost forgotten my questions. My lips tingled. My entire body trembled.

  Finley shrugged, his eyes shadowed. “Dad died after they landed in North Carolina. I was on a plane immediately. Bella and I planned the funeral with Vanessa. Then there were details…” He wiped a hand across his forehead. “Maybe I should have told you. I don’t know. I had a feeling you would insist on flying home with me, and I couldn’t interrupt your trip like that. I wasn’t thinking very clearly, to be honest.”

  My brain struggled to catch up. “Your dad died.” It wasn’t a question. I repeated it, trying to wrap my head around the knowledge. “Bella didn’t get to say goodbye.” The tragedy of that horrified me.

  He shook his head. “She did. Thank God. He collapsed leaving the airport in Asheville. They rushed him by ambulance. Bella made it in time.”

  “He was conscious?”

  “Yes. Briefly. The three of us were at his bedside at the end.”

  “Oh, Finley. I’m so sorry.” I put my arms around him and cried again when he put his head on my shoulder. I held him tightly.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice muffled.

  “For what? I left you at the worst possible time.”

  He straightened, his blue eyes sober. “You saved me from making a terrible mistake. If it hadn’t been for you, I might never have agreed to see him.”

  “Nonsense,” I said firmly. “I know you, Finley Craig. You would have done the right thing in the end.”

  “I’d like to think so, but I’m pretty stubborn.”

  “So was he. You came by it naturally.” I pulled a tissue from my pocket and dried my face. “How is Bella?”

  “She’s okay. Actually, she figured out a long time ago that he was very ill. I did mention that my sister is brilliant, right?”

  “Yes. It was still a shock, I’m sure.”

  “It was.” He leaned back against a brick wall, his hands in his pockets. “I told her about you.”

  “Oh?” I wrapped my arms around my waist, feeling my cheeks heat. “What did you tell her?”

  “That you and I had pretty much fallen in love at first sight, but that I had screwed things up by not letting you know how I felt.”

  “Does she believe in that kind of love?”

  “Doesn’t matter if she does or not, it’s real…isn’t it, Duchess?”

  My heart started pounding so hard, I felt faint. “You have to be sure, Finley.”

  His smile made up for all the miserable days. “I’m sure, McKenzie.”

  “Even so,” I said quietly, “this is complicated. I don’t have the kind of life that can be easily uprooted. Nor do you.”

  “I’ve given that some thought,” he said.

  “You have?” I was pinballing between exhilaration and sheer panic.

  “Lots of people have two homes. Why couldn’t we spend six months in Atlanta and the rest of the year here? Could we make that work?”

  “Six months away from the hea
t and humidity? Um, yes. Sign me up for that.”

  “And we can avoid the Scottish winter by living in balmy Atlanta. Sounds like a win-win.”

  I nibbled my fingernail, a habit I’d given up years ago. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, Finley. My falling in love with you isn’t your responsibility.”

  “No,” he said soberly. “It’s not.” He took both my wrists and reeled me in, sliding one arms around my waist and stroking the back of my head with his other hand. “Your falling in love with me is like being anointed with fairy dust. It’s the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It’s that unexpected, unbelievable, bloody amazing feeling of winning the lottery.”

  I looked up at him, searching his face for the truth. “You really love me? I don’t want you to say it if it isn’t true.”

  Without warning, he released me and went down on one knee. The alley was clean as alleys go, but there was no telling what was underfoot.

  “Finley,” I cried.

  He frowned at me. “Hush, Duchess. I’m being romantic.” He paused, and I saw him swallow. That he could be nervous stunned me. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a turquoise box with a white ribbon.

  I sucked in a startled breath. “Where did you get that?”

  “Turns out, my return flight to London connected in Atlanta with a four-hour layover. And as it happens…” His grin was pure bad boy.

  “There’s a Tiffany’s in Atlanta.” I whispered the words, feeling my legs get wobbly.

  Finley untied the ribbon and flipped open the lid. “McKenzie Taylor. Will you marry me? I’m no’ a real Scotsman, but I’ll love you from this century until the next, no matter where we may be, no matter what life has in store for us. So help me, God.”

  “Get up,” I begged. “We’re gathering a crowd.” It was true. Passersby had begun to congregate at the end of the alley, sensing drama in their midst.

  Finley did as I asked. Taking the ring from the box, he held it out to me. “I won’t put it on your finger until you say yes, Duchess.”