Andrew had hardly looked at Fiona throughout the extended meal, but he had been completely aware of every movement she made—or didn’t.
Most often she didn’t move. Fiona, once a spirited, active child, had developed tranquility to an art form. Her movements were spare and infinitely more graceful because of it. She leaned slightly forward as the talk swirled around her, as if to immerse herself in it without being forced to participate. Her eyes were like depthless pools. Deep as the loch, he supposed, hinting at great mystery and an ageless serenity. They changed with the timbre of the conversation, reflecting and absorbing the emotions that others expressed.
“Andrew, you’ve had little to say tonight,” Iain said, when they moved into the comfortably casual sitting room for coffee laced with Drambuie.
He’d had little to say because he had been so busy not watching Fiona. He had carefully not watched the way she smiled—a smile that barely disturbed the composure of her face but was nevertheless warm and genuine. He had carefully not watched the way her turquoise sweater softly outlined the contours of her breasts or the way her long fingers stroked the fine linen tablecloth and savored the whorls of the intricate family crest on the silverware.
He hadn’t watched her lift a bright tropical blossom from the floral arrangement to brush its soft petals against her cheek and learn its exotic scent.
“I think Andrew’s mentally out on the loch looking for his darling,” Duncan said. “Along with half of Druidheachd.”
“Only the half with boats.” Restless, Andrew got up to pour himself more coffee. “Boats and the time to make a quid from our visitors.”
“The hotel’s been full, too,” Duncan said. “But I expect it to die down soon.”
“Has activity on the loch increased that much?” Fiona asked.
Andrew was aware this was the first remark she’d addressed to him since their discussion on the terrace. He faced her. “Aye. I’ve had my hands full, as has everyone with a boat. There’ve been no sightings on Loch Ness for sometime. We’re taking up the slack.”
“Then you think it will be temporary?”
“I suppose that depends on Nessie and my darling. They’ll have to work it out between them.”
“I’m sure they’re in constant touch,” Duncan said wryly.
Fiona hadn’t turned her gaze from Andrew. “I would imagine that a lot of the people who come just want to be out on the loch. I bet they don’t care if they see anything out of the ordinary. The ordinary is magnificent enough.”
“Then you’ve been out on the water?”
“Oh, no. I’ve imagined it, though. It’s so beautiful from the shore. It’s easy to see it would be that much more beautiful gliding through the waves.”
“It’s particularly lovely on a clear night like this one. You should come for a cruise.” Andrew realized he had excluded everyone else. “All of you,” he amended. “It’s rare to have a night this lovely so early in the season.”
“I can’t,” Iain said. “There’s still work to be done upstairs or there’ll be permanent damage to the ceiling.”
“I’d better stay and help Iain,” Billie said, “or there’ll be no living with him.”
“We have to get back to April,” Duncan said. “Or I do. Mara and Fiona can certainly go.”
“I have to pass, as well,” Mara said. “I have to be at the croft early tomorrow to help with shearing.”
No regret showed on Fiona’s face, but Andrew saw it in her eyes, deep where anyone who wasn’t searching would miss it. “It looks like we’ll have to wait,” she said. “Another time, Andrew?”
Andrew could feel Duncan watching him. He had only to say aye, that they would go another time. He could make the offer again when the others weren’t busy. There was nothing in Fiona’s manner to indicate that she expected anything else.
But it wasn’t a matter of her expectations.
“Do you have a reason no’ to go tonight?” he asked.
She tilted her head. Like all her movements, this one was slight, and more effective because of it. “No, but I don’t want to leave out the—”
“They’ve all been in my boat. You have no’.”
“Aren’t you tired? You’ve been taking people out all week.”
He stared at her. The room seemed unusually still to him, as if everyone had ceased breathing. “Aye, but you’re no’ just people, are you?” He set down his coffee and held out his hand to her.
She didn’t look around, but her cheeks delicately flushed with color. For a moment he thought she would refuse. For another, he almost wished she would. Then she stood and took his hand. “It sounds like something I’d better not miss.”
Andrew turned to Duncan. “I’ll bring her home afterward.”
Duncan gave a curt nod. Andrew wanted to reassure him. He wanted to promise his friend that there was nothing to worry about. But even if he’d had the freedom to speak, there was nothing he could have promised. Nothing.
“Billie, Iain,” he said, turning to his hosts. “I would no’ abandon you so quickly, but I know you have work ahead. Is there anything else I can do before we leave?”
“Absolutely not. Shutting off the water was enough. Go and have fun,” Billie said.
Andrew bent to kiss her cheek, but he held tightly to Fiona’s hand so she wouldn’t slip away. “Thank you for everything. It was the finest meal I’ve had in years.”
Billie kissed him in return, and the kiss landed very near his ear. It was followed by a whisper. “I don’t care if she’s Duncan’s sister, Andrew. Don’t you dare treat Fiona like anything less than a woman tonight.”
CHAPTER 8
Stardust yearned to be something she was not. She yearned to be tiny, with shining, rainbow scales, like the trout who had once been her friends. She yearned to be slender, with a supple body that twirled and coiled in the water like the eels who now refused to swim with her. But she was not small or slender. The lake seemed to rise as she grew, as if the weight and size of her body pushed the water higher up the beach. Now she had no one to play with except Lockjaw, the snapping turtle who preferred to sun his ancient body on a log. Lockjaw was not afraid of Stardust. He talked to her whenever she swam close enough. It was Lockjaw who told her that she was a water dragon and would never grow smaller. And it was Lockjaw who told her that far across Serenity Lake there were other dragons just like her.
Andrew’s boat was neither large nor flashy. It was a cabin cruiser with comfortable seating for six. Obviously MacDougall’s Darling had spent a long life exploring the loch and was now approaching retirement, but Andrew had kept her in such perfect condition that under the soft glow of moonlight her dark wood trim gleamed like a prized antique and her white hull was an unblemished beacon.
“She has none of the luxuries of a more modern craft. But there’s no’ a boat on the loch in better condition.”
“And I’m sure there’s not a guide who tells better stories.” Fiona took Andrew’s hand and let him help her aboard. The boat rocked gently under her feet.
“You’ll get your sea legs before long.” He didn’t drop her hand. “Are you warm enough?”
“I’m fine.”
“I could run inside and get you a coat.”
Fiona looked beyond him to the frame cottage sitting back from the shore. MacDougall’s Darling was anchored at the end of a short stone pier jutting out from Andrew’s own property. They hadn’t gone inside. She’d only glimpsed the exterior, but what she’d glimpsed was charming. “I’m fine. Really.”
A high-pitched yapping carved a rift in the evening’s dark tranquillity. Andrew shook his head. “I’m afraid Poppy’s discovered I’m home.”
Fiona already knew the story of how Duncan and Mara had rescued three breathtakingly ugly puppies wagging their tails at the gates of puppy heaven. She knew that after naming them all, April had kept Primrose, then presented Primrose’s brother to Andrew. Iain had been gifted with the third look-alike, Hollyhock. The
fact that the two men had never had the heart to change the dogs’ names said volumes about their love for April.
“I’ve seen the others. Don’t I get to judge this one, too?” she asked.
“He’s every bit as ugly as the rest and twice as ill-mannered,” Andrew warned.
“Go on and get him. Bring him along and I’ll see what I think.”
Andrew leapt back to the pier and disappeared into the darkness. Fiona wandered the boat, stroking the sleek vinyl cushions and the flawless woodwork. Everything was neatly in place and sparkling clean. She was peeking below at the spartan sleeping quarters when the boat began to rock. She turned just in time to brace herself before Poppy sprang.
“Down! Get down, Poppy!” Andrew leapt on board and rushed over to grab the dog who, if possible, was larger and uglier than both Primrose and Hollyhock.
“It’s all right.” Fiona wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck and stroked his mottled fur. Poppy’s eyes said “love me,” while his drooling canine smile added “please?” Hooked, she murmured reassurances, which was no hardship, since his ears were at lip level.
“Get down!” Andrew pulled Poppy off Fiona and back down to all fours. “I’m sorry, Fiona. He’s never been quite so poorly behaved. You would think he’d never seen a woman.”
“And just how many has he seen?” She squatted to continue the dog-woman communion. Poppy was wiggling and slobbering with abandon.
“No’ as many as you’ve probably been led to believe.”
“Really? I’ve been told your fame extends through the Highlands.”
“Fame? For what, exactly?”
Fiona looked up. Andrew’s arms were crossed, and his eyes sparkled. She knew he expected her to back down, but she wasn’t quite the blushing virgin he believed her to be. She shrugged carelessly. “I don’t know. Every time I ask for details, the women in question just smile.”
“Ah, that. They refer to my prowess at tossing the caber.”
“The caber?”
“A long pole, thick and heavy.” He made a circle with both hands. She whistled softly in appreciation.
“Slippery, too,” he continued, “when a man’s tensed to put all he has into the throw. You lift it like this.” He demonstrated, bending slowly, then raising his cupped hands until they stopped just at his groin. “Then you heave it as far and as hard as you’re able. I’ve competed throughout Scotland.” He smiled seductively. “I’ve been declared a champion more than once.”
She lifted a brow. “Now that I think about it, they all said you were a champion, although who knows how many caber tosses they’ve seen? But the description of…the caber certainly fits.”
“A man could have his head turned with such praise.”
“And I bet a man could lose his head tossing his caber in the presence of the wrong woman.”
“Oh, I’m canny whenever the occasion arises.”
“And I suppose it…arises…often?”
“No’ as often as you’ve probably been led to believe.”
This time she smiled. “Isn’t that where we began?”
He squatted beside her, weight resting easily on his heels. “What do you think of my Poppy?”
“I think he’s spectacular.”
“I will no’ question that too closely.” Andrew ruffled Poppy’s ears, but the dog didn’t turn from Fiona. “He seems to have taken a liking to you.”
“He’s a discriminating mutt.”
“Shall we take him along, then?”
“We shall.” She looked up and realized how close Andrew’s face was to hers. Moonlight defined the rugged slash of his cheekbones, the square strength of his jaw, the slope of his nose. His was a Celtic face, equal parts warrior, pagan and mystic. He smiled and joked so often and easily that she suspected few saw the passion and the mystery deeply etched in his hazel eyes.
“I’m glad you came,” he said. The teasing had ended. He was close enough to read her thoughts and too close to hide his own.
“Me too.”
“I did no’ think you would.”
“Neither did I.”
“I acted badly tonight.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Your brother warned me away from you.”
Her heart began to beat faster. “I know. Is this about Duncan?”
“No. It’s about my being afraid that I’ll hurt you.”
“You can only hurt me if I let you.” Her breathing felt uneven, as if there weren’t enough air in Scotland to completely fill her lungs.
He didn’t speak or move. His gaze flicked to her lips, then back to her eyes. She saw caution melt into longing until there was no point where one ended and the other began. Desire was an unbroken continuum, a magnetic compulsion that held them motionless, even as both of them resisted its pull.
At last he stood. “I’ll cast off.”
The voice that emerged from her lips was husky and breathless, not her own. “Do you need a crew? I can do whatever you tell me.”
“No’ this time. I want you to sit and enjoy. It’s special, when you see it the first time, our loch. Watch carefully as we pull away and you might see my darling. She’s always nearby.”
Fiona didn’t ask how he knew or if he was teasing, since she doubted he had an answer for either question—and there were already enough unanswered questions between them. She settled herself in one of the comfortable seats at the stern and gazed out at the loch, shifting positions as the subtle purr of the engine added rhythm to the night and the boat pulled away from the pier.
Poppy jumped up on the seat to her left. Fiona kept her eyes on the water, although she wanted more than anything to watch and admire the way Andrew handled the boat. As the wind ruffled her hair she stroked the dog’s velvet ears and searched the horizon for the proud lift of a water dragon’s head.
Lights defined the loch’s shoreline, intermittent and indistinct. She knew there were no commercial developments here except for a small, homey settlement of tourist cottages on the opposite shore that were rented each year by the same Lowland families that had rented them for decades. Fiona had explored the loch’s circumference with Billie in search of an old woman who was said to tell richly embroidered stories about sea-dwelling kelpies who assumed human form—and all the poor women who had been fooled by them. Billie was working on a dissertation on local folklore, and Fiona had accompanied her on other trips into the country, as well.
“What do you see?”
The boat had slowed, but it was still moving. She hadn’t expected Andrew to come up beside her. She tilted her chin to look up at him. “Everything and nothing. It’s even more beautiful than I imagined.”
“This is my favorite time. There’s rarely anyone out here at night except the most intrepid fishermen.”
“You never grow tired of it, do you?”
He lowered himself to the seat to her right so that Poppy wouldn’t be displaced. “Never. Some men travel to see new sights. I come here for them.”
“Then you’re not a traveler?”
“I’ve seen the corners of the world, but I’ve found nowt I like better. I suppose that makes me dull and unimaginative.”
“If you were making a list to describe yourself, would those adjectives be at the top?”
“A dull, unimaginative person would no’ think of making a list.”
“Who’s steering the boat, Andrew?”
He leaned back. “She knows her own way.”
Fiona knew better than to worry. The loch was his home, and she was perfectly safe. She leaned back, too, and turned just far enough to admire his profile. “Do you remember your first time out on the loch?”
“I was a babe in nappies. My father had no regular job. He was a tour guide, and he fished and sold what fish he could when no one in authority was about. He often took me with him. Iain and Duncan had their first ride on the loch in his boat.”
“Those must be wonderful memories.”
&n
bsp; His voice dropped, as if her casual response had charted new depths in the conversation. “Some of them, aye. My da was a storyteller beyond compare. And he had the voice of an angel. We Scots are no’ a weepy people, but when my da sang the old songs late at night at the pub, there was no’ a strong man there who could stop himself from shedding a tear. He would sing, and they would buy him whisky so that he’d continue….”
There was more here, but she knew better than to pry. She searched for something safer. “Did your mother love the loch, too?”
“She hates it still. She says that Loch Ceo stole her husband.”
Fiona sat forward. “Andrew, did your father drown? Is that what she meant?”
“My father died in hospital from too many dreams and too many drams.”
She was at a loss for comforting words.
“He was a man no’ meant to be a husband or father. A good man, nonetheless.” Andrew stood and crossed to the wheel, as much, Fiona guessed, to end this portion of their conversation as to change the boat’s direction. Poppy turned his head to watch, but the dog stayed where he was.
The boat picked up speed, then slowed once more. Fiona looked out at the water and watched the lights on the opposite shore grow brighter. Andrew took his seat again and pointed to the bow of the boat. “We’re heading for a bonny cove where my darling was twice sighted last century, once by a doctor in Druidheachd on holiday, then again twelve years later by a wee lad and his sister. They claimed until the day they died an old man and woman that their story was true and no’ combined imagination.”
“How many sightings have there been?”
“Three this century that I know of. It’s entirely possible there’ve been more, but no’ everyone is willing to admit what they’ve seen. My father was one who did admit it. He saw my darling just hours after I was born, on his way home from the hospital.”
“Wasn’t your birth odd enough as it was?”
“The villagers think so. They still believe that when Duncan, Iain and I are together we have a certain power….”
Fiona remember that Billie had once said something similar, but she hadn’t understood. “Power? What kind?”
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