Scotland for Christmas

by Cathryn Parry

  Logically, she knew that her uncle held all the cards in this situation. Jacob hadn’t offered her anything permanent, and as much as that hurt, she couldn’t blame him for it. If he’d asked her to give up her goals in Scotland and settle with him in America—as what? The wife of a bodyguard who might take a bullet for someone again?—no one would think that was fair, least of all him.

  And so they lived in limbo. As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, wishes didn’t always come true. There was no guarantee that Jacob could be part of her future. And in case she was tempted to fool herself that he’d tire of the law-enforcement life, the steady parade of colleagues stopping by to visit him only underscored that Jacob’s work in the Secret Service meant everything to him.

  Her uncle was wrong this time. Actually, he’d been wrong many times, in Isabel’s opinion, but in the past she’d been so keen to please him, so afraid to show her true feelings in case they made her less appealing, that she’d swallowed up her own desires, to the point she wasn’t even sure what those always were.

  Now she knew exactly what she wanted.

  A driver picked her and Jacob up at the Edinburgh airport. Being back home was emotional for Isabel. New York City had been an adventure—a wonderful adventure, once she’d met Jacob—and one that had broadened her horizons. But Scotland was where she was meant to be. She felt it more deeply as she gazed upon the Christmas decorations adorning the houses and the fairy lights shining through the windows on each street they passed, and as she listened to the warmth of their driver’s familiar brogue.

  Jacob took her hand, and she squeezed it, feeling herself tremble. They didn’t speak; what was there to say? They were only coming closer to their final separation.

  The car stopped in front of the Georgian building where Isabel’s flat was located, and she carried her own luggage upstairs. From the living room, she sighed happily to see the cozy view of the chimneys of the city and the deep blue loch beyond.

  Her home. Isabel spread her arms wide. Jacob came up beside her, and she couldn’t help blathering, “This is it. This is where I live.”

  He leaned against the back of the sofa and pulled her close to him. “It’s nice.”

  She laid her head against his chest, her cheek brushing the small bandage on his neck. With his collar raised, the bandage was hidden. But she knew it was there.

  If she had her way, she’d take Jacob to the Christmas market, and maybe even a Santa’s grotto, or even just put on a Christmas movie, to get in the mood for the holiday.

  But all that needed to wait. “I don’t want to put it off any longer,” she said. “I’m going to see my uncle now.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “Thanks, but no. This is something I want to do myself.”

  He kissed her, nodding gently. “Good luck.”

  “I shouldn’t be later than dinner.”

  “Take your time, I’ll be here.”

  On the kitchen table she noticed a gift hamper filled with food and a bottle of fine champagne. A note accompanying the basket was from the woman who’d leased her flat while Isabel was away in New York.

  “Isn’t this lovely?” Isabel said. “At least the cupboard isn’t completely bare.”

  Jacob just smiled sadly at her. He must have known she was doing her level best to stay positive for him.

  Outside, the ground was bare, but a freezing rain was spitting from gray clouds. Since they were so much farther north than New York City, the sun would set much earlier. Isabel hastened down the hill, straight to the office, which was just a few blocks from her flat, and marched into their corporate headquarters building.

  After what she’d seen in New York City, the facility seemed so much smaller. There were no skyscrapers in Edinburgh. She chatted briefly with Jean, their receptionist at the main desk, and then hurried to the offices. She felt different, but the place was the same.

  The “sheep’s pen” of cubicles. The ringing phones. The quiet bustle of people. The conference room, where she’d held so many group meetings on the launch of their new lipstick line the summer before she’d left. The employees’ kitchen, where she’d spent her earliest years, making cocoa and waiting for her father when he’d worked late.

  Inside her office, she shook off her coat and dropped her handbag on her desk—cleared since she’d left—and headed back to the lift to reach her uncle’s suite of private offices. She strode past his line of defense—the managers, lawyers and accountants he’d hired from outside their family.

  He was on the phone. Her whole life, Isabel had been afraid of acting out or speaking her true feelings with him, and risking his disapproval. But now she felt differently. For the rest of their lives, she would have a relationship with him. Being honest with him was more important than pleasing him or projecting that perfect image. She wouldn’t go back to living any other way.

  Feeling calmer around him than she had in a long while, she stepped into his office and stood before him, waiting. She needed to let him know that she had limits. She was a valuable asset, but only if he treated her with trust and respect.

  He hung up his phone and sighed, tapping the tips of his fingers together. “Welcome home, Isabel.”

  “Thank you.” Without waiting to be invited, she sat in the chair in front of his desk and leaned forward. “You need to know that I did not and will not ever speak to the media about our family or our company. Not now or ever. Is that clear?”

  “The culprit has been found,” her uncle said calmly. “And he is no longer with our company.”

  “But you investigated me. That’s personal.”

  “I investigated everyone,” he said gently. “It wasn’t personal.”

  “That’s unacceptable,” she said, also gently. “If you have questions for me, then you have to come and ask me, and I will answer you honestly.”

  “Jacob told you about our agreement, I presume?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Good.” Her uncle nodded. “I had hoped that he would, but I couldn’t be sure. You see, by asking him to do this in exchange for the information he wanted, we didn’t have to give him anything without first getting a sense of his intentions and the danger he might pose.”

  “The danger?” she repeated. “Why do you persist in thinking that Jacob is dangerous to us?”

  “Until proven otherwise, Isabel, everyone is dangerous to us. We can never let down our guard. Even one lapse can be a terrible thing.” He stared at her, his voice lowering. “Remember your cousins.”

  “That attitude has to stop,” she said quietly.

  He stood. “I thought you were wiser than that. The most important thing a leader of this family does is to provide protection to its members.”

  “We don’t need to be protected, Uncle. We need to be trusted. Otherwise, we’ll never be free of the past.”

  “Is that all?” he said brusquely, gathering together some papers on his desk.

  “No. I’m here because I would like the documents, please. The plans we promised Jacob. The file on his father, to begin with.”

  “There is no file,” her uncle said. “There never was.”

  She leaned back, and then recovered from her surprise. “What do we have, then? What did you promise Jacob?”

  “A conversation.” Uncle John tapped his head. “A recitation of what is in here.”

  “Did you intend to be truthful with him?”

  Her uncle just looked at her.

  She should have known. Jacob would never be given anything in writing. She further doubted that her uncle would reveal anything significant, no matter what Jacob did in return. Her uncle simply didn’t trust, and that wasn’t something she could change.

  He laced his hands together. “I hope I will still see you both at Christmas dinner.
I understand Jacob is here in Edinburgh with you, and my invitation is still open.”

  “Why do you want to see him?” she asked bluntly.

  “I’m concerned for him—how is he recuperating from his wound? But I’m more concerned for you. Are you ready to settle back into a routine at Sage Family Products? Do you still want all that you’ve been working for?” He looked at her with meaning, as if waiting for her to ask him the question she’d always asked him. Will I be the one chosen to lead the company next?

  Her father had wanted that for her. She’d gone so far as to promise to him on his deathbed that she would never stop trying.

  Isabel blinked back tears. She would honor her promise, but the way she’d been honoring it suddenly seemed wrong.

  “I will see you at Christmas,” she murmured. She would; they had much to talk about. She pushed back her chair and stood. “We’ll both see you at Christmas.”

  Uncle John looked at her. She knew she had given him reason not to trust her loyalty. “Jacob will be gone soon,” he murmured. “Don’t do anything rash.”

  But Isabel didn’t answer him because she’d suddenly realized that being the top dog wasn’t the most important thing to her.

  It was all about love. That’s all it ever had been for her. She’d wanted the job because she loved her father. Could she walk away from it because she loved Jacob, too?

  “Thank you for your honesty,” she told her uncle as she left.

  * * *

  THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Isabel walked over to the financial area and into Malcolm’s office. She’d rarely ventured into his domain. Malcolm, to her, had always been the enemy—her competitor rather than her cousin.

  His office was empty. A huge oil painting of a beautiful landscape greeted her from over his desk. It depicted the property in the Highlands around the family’s castle, and was one of Rhiannon’s masterworks. Isabel stood staring at it, so beautiful and yet so lonely and sad. The piece told much about her family, and Isabel had never realized that until now.

  Malcolm stepped into the office, his dark hair slightly longer than usual and a look of surprise registering on his face. When he recovered, he smiled at her. “Welcome home.”

  “You, too,” she remarked. “You look tanned.”

  “Aye. Three weeks on the beach in St. John in the Caribbean—it was heaven.” He pulled out a chair for her to sit, and then he sat, too. “Thank you for coming to my wedding, by the way. How is Jacob?”

  “You remember his name?”

  “Of course I remember. You’re my cousin.”

  Isabel rubbed her arms. Malcolm hadn’t said so much to her in years. Maybe he was still in a good mood after his honeymoon. Then again, she usually avoided him, which didn’t give much opportunity for conversation.

  He held up a mug of coffee in his hand. “Just made a pot. Would you like a cup?”

  “No, but thank you for offering.”

  He nodded. “How did you find school in New York?”

  She paused. It was strange to sit beside him and chat as if they were long-lost friends. But if she was going to change her life for the better, then she needed to start here. “Well, it gave me a bigger perspective as to our overall strategy, our place in the industry, our future direction. It helped lift my thinking beyond just our cosmetics line,” she said honestly.

  “That’s good.” Malcolm leaned back in his chair. He seemed...more of a cousin—and ally—than a competitor.

  Maybe it was time she thought of him as such.

  “How is Jacob?” he asked again.

  She took a breath and met his gaze. “He was shot protecting the president’s daughter.”

  Malcolm stopped, his mug of coffee inches from his lips, and choked. “That was him?” he sputtered, wiping his mouth.

  “Yes.” She waited a beat. “He’s also the son of the man who was shot rescuing Rhiannon and you.”

  His jaw dropped. His tanned face turned pale.

  “I don’t want to compete with you anymore, Malcolm. We’re the only two cousins interested in leading this company, and I propose that we unite in leadership and do it together—honestly and as partners.”

  “Yes,” Malcolm said quickly.

  She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said yes. That’s how I want to do it, too.”

  “Can we shake on this, please? To a partnership between us?”

  He held out his hand and took hers in his firm grip. “There, it’s done. In future, we work only in harmony. Now, tell me about Jacob.”

  Suddenly, Isabel felt teary, which was ludicrous. She’d never shown emotion like this, especially in the business world.

  She couldn’t go into a long explanation of Jacob’s background. She couldn’t express to Malcolm how upset she felt over the way their uncle had used her. She couldn’t even be sure, really, that once Malcolm heard her request, he wouldn’t betray her, as well.

  She had to take the chance and express herself. She couldn’t live in fear or loneliness anymore.

  “I need something very important from you, Malcolm,” she choked out.

  He nodded slowly. “I’m listening.”

  “I need you...to take Jacob and me to the warehouse where his father died.”

  Malcolm dragged his hand over his hair. He looked pained.

  “Jacob...doesn’t know what happened to his father, and it haunts him. He also has a dream of being part of his president’s personal security detail, but his agency won’t approve it yet. They want to make sure he doesn’t have any unresolved feelings about his father’s death. Jacob wants to know the technical details—how the rescue happened, and why it went wrong. I think it’s his way of processing and understanding why his dad died.”

  Malcolm sat back. “They really think it’s healthy to revisit all that? Because it’s not a pretty story, Isabel.”

  “Aren’t you tired of the nightmares?” she asked. “I went to Jacob’s house for Thanksgiving, and I saw his family, Malcolm. This event is still rippling through two families, all these years later. I saw their sadness. I saw how it affects them, just as it affects us. Every decision we make...our family’s focus on safety and security and, in Uncle’s case, distrust. You know what I’m talking about.”

  Malcolm gazed silently at the landscape over his desk, his lips pressed together. She was sure he was thinking about his sister, self-removed from the world, painting alone in her castle.

  “I want to begin to address it,” Isabel said. “To stop pretending that we can’t discuss it.”

  Malcolm forced out a breath. Then he nodded curtly. “Aye.”

  “I also want to do this for Jacob because he deserves to know. He’s part of this, too. I know I can’t have a life with him, Malcolm. I know what plans he has for his future, and I can’t be part of that. I’m sure he’s also reluctant to spend much time with us over here, and I don’t want to leave my family, but...I can’t be silent and do Uncle John’s bidding anymore. I can’t be an automaton. I can’t toe the line and pretend that my feelings don’t count. They do count. I am important, what I believe matters, and whether you like me for it or not, you know that I’m right when I say it has to stop. This...thing has reverberated through all our lives and in a sense imprisoned all of us. I want it finished. I want it addressed so it can be healed. Do you want this carried through any longer?”

  “No.” Malcolm stood and grabbed his coat. “Come on.”

  “You’ll arrange a trip for the three of us?”

  “Four,” Malcolm said. “My wife is coming.”

  “Kristin?” she asked, surprised.

  “She’s a permanent part of my life now, and, yeah, she’s affected, too. I’ve told her everything I remembered, and she sees how it is with Rhiannon. So yes, I want Kristin there, as well.
She’ll want to see it.”

  Had he really just agreed to do this? Isabel’s hands were shaking in her lap. “Thank you,” she breathed out. She stood on trembling legs, ready to go home to tell Jacob. She hoped that this would be enough to help him. There wasn’t much she could offer, but this was something.

  “We’ll arrange the trip for tomorrow morning,” Malcolm said as they strode down the hallway.

  “Christmas Eve?”

  “Yes. And can I tell you something I noticed about Jacob?”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “After the reading you gave at our wedding, he held your hand in the pew. I saw it, and it put me on his side. I’m not worried about him betraying us, Isabel. I trust your judgment.”

  * * *

  JACOB RODE IN the back of Malcolm’s BMW with Isabel beside him. Malcolm drove and his wife, Kristin, sat in the passenger seat.

  They followed a route north to a section of country that struck Jacob as lonely and forlorn. There were mountain peaks in the distance, but the terrain was relatively flat.

  He was quiet, and stared out the window. In the front seat, Kristin, the lighthearted one, was talking with Isabel, asking her questions. Was she going to stay in Edinburgh? What did she think of their family’s Christmas plans?

  Jacob didn’t know what to say. He honestly didn’t how he felt. The night before, he and Isabel had made love with an intensity that had scared him. He couldn’t stay here, no matter how much he wanted to be with her. They both knew that.

  He needed to get the facts of his father’s death, and then he needed to withdraw.

  He was grateful to her for making this opportunity to visit the scene. It couldn’t have been easy for her, but she’d done it—she’d made her peace with Malcolm. Now, their visit today would help him get the practical information he so desperately needed.

  He could walk the perimeter. He could sift it with Malcolm’s recollections, and form his own professional opinion of the operation. His way of making sense of it all.

  He touched his neck. The bandage itched him again; he fought the urge to scratch it.

  He caught Isabel staring at him.