He pulled open the front door and stepped outside, closing the door after him.
Turning back around, she finished the dishes, trying not to think how this was the last time she would see him. Drying her hands on a towel, she glanced around and spotted the unmade bed. She tackled that next, making certain it was military neat. She would leave no mess behind. She tidied the couch cushions next, folding the throw and draping it over the back.
Satisfied, she fetched her bag from the floor near the couch. Her shoes waited at the door where she left them the night before. Had that only been a night ago? Not even twenty-four hours had passed. How was that possible? She didn’t even feel like the same person.
She slid on her shoes and bent to lace them up, feeling a little sick. Standing, she secured both straps of her backpack over her shoulders and looked around one final time, blinking burning eyes as she imprinted the house in her memory.
She stepped outside. It was still chilly, the sun hidden behind the clouds. She looked around the yard. No sight of Niall anywhere—a fact that both relieved and saddened her. She really would never see him again. She could hear the sheep bleating somewhere in the distance. Maybe he was checking to see how they fared through the night.
Gripping the straps of her backpack, she headed off down the road, admiring the rippling green hills. As much as it hurt to think she was never going to see Niall again, she knew she was doing the right thing.
She walked for almost half an hour. It was uphill, downhill, and then uphill again. Her breathing picked up as she followed the winding road. There had to be a way on foot to get across the road. Just because a car couldn’t cross it didn’t mean someone on foot couldn’t. She’d find a way.
The sound of burbling water reached her ears and she knew she was nearing the stream. She rounded a bend, fully expecting to see the road overrun with water.
But all she saw was a road.
A fully passable road.
She froze as this sank into her brain. A thin layer of water covered the road, no more than an inch high. A car would have no trouble crossing through it.
The road was passable.
She blinked a few times as though her eyes were deceiving her. The blood rushed to her head, roaring in her ears.
He’d lied. Why had he lied to her?
The sound of a car approaching had her whirling back around. Niall’s Jeep rounded the bend and braked hard. He flung open the driver’s side and hopped out, an anxious look on his usually passive face.
He started toward her and she held out a hand as though to ward him off. “Stop.”
He obliged, his gaze darting over her face. “Thea,” he began.
“You lied to me,” she accused, pointing a damning finger to the road.
His expression turned pained.
“I asked you and you said the road wasn’t clear!”
He nodded. “Aye, I lied.”
She shook her head. “I can see that! I don’t understand—”
“I dinna want you to go,” he flung out. “Damn it, I want you to stay longer so I lied.”
She stared at him in stunned silence. At this surly, too hot man with a panicked expression on his face that was all because of her. Because … she was leaving.
She glanced back at the road with the barely there current of water trickling over its surface as though needing to see it one more time—the evidence of his deceit.
She faced him again, her heart tumbling headlong at the sight of him, at the incredible words he was saying to her in that delicious brogue of his. They echoed in her head. I dinna want you to go. Damn it, I want you to stay longer…
“Why didn’t you just say that?” she whispered.
He dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Because I’m an idiot who couldn’t find his voice around you. Who felt like a tongue-tied lad because he wants you so damn much. Because I was scared that you would think I was deranged and run screaming for the road. I haven’t even known you a full day, but I want you to stay.” He flung out both arms. “I want you here. I’m sorry I couldn’t say it before.” He looked at her bleakly, emotion ripe in his eyes. “Don’t go.”
Elation swelled inside her chest. She shook her head and tamped down on her joy, fighting for her composure. She didn’t want to look like a giddy child on Christmas morning, even if that was how she felt. “I don’t think you’re deranged.”
“No?” He advanced on her slowly, his expression hopeful. “I’m not a rash or reckless man, but you’ve done something to me. Changed me.” He held out both hands, gesturing around them. “I think yer a faerie and those glens are magical. I don’t know how else to explain it. How else could I have fallen in love with you the moment I found you in my house, wearing my clothes, eating my dinner? You made me feel again. You made me believe. How can I no’ believe those glens are magical anymore? They brought you to me.” His hand reached out to caress her hair. “What’s it going to be, Goldilocks?”
Her eyes burned, swimming with tears, and this time the tears were not from pain or disappointment. She fought against a tide of joy, trying to not to get swept away in it. She needed to be reasonable now.
He couldn’t love her. It was impossible. Too soon. This didn’t happen to people.
This didn’t happen to her.
He took another step, stopping just in front of her. “Stay.” He inhaled. “Please. Stay forever.”
She opened her mouth and just then she heard another engine. They both looked up as a small car came into view, cresting the hill and zipping down toward them. It crossed over the stream and pulled to a hard brake beside them.
The driver rolled down the window. A man with a grizzled beard stuck his head out the window. “Hello, there. I’m looking for an American.” He eyed Thea speculatively. The pocket of his T-shirt bore the logo for the tour company she’d hired. “A tour bus left her behind, and I’ve been sent to find her. You haven’t seen her, have you?”
She lifted her gaze and locked eyes with Niall. He watched her, his blue eyes intent, hungry. Hungry for her. But he volunteered nothing. He waited for her to say something. Waited for her to reach a decision.
She looked back down at the driver, her heart pounding hard in her chest as she reached her decision. The only choice she could make.
“You can go back,” she told him, and no words had ever felt so natural, so right coming out of her mouth. “She’s not lost. She’s right where she wants to be.”
Epilogue
Two years later…
Thea set down her charcoal pencil and pushed up from her stool, arching her spine and stretching against the perpetual ache in her back as she critically evaluated her work. Well, perpetual ache as of eight weeks ago.
Rubbing the small of her back, she glanced at the clock. It was well after twelve and she hadn’t stopped for lunch yet. Her stomach grumbled in protest. She removed her smock and hung it on the hook on the wall.
She followed the sounds of hammering outside. Standing on the porch, she held a hand up to shield her eyes. It was a rare sunny day, and she smiled as she caught sight of Niall on the roof of the new house. It should be ready for them to move into next month.
With three bedrooms and two-and-a-half baths, she could invite Gina and her husband to come and stay with them now. Maybe Grams would even pay them a visit, now that she had adjusted to the idea Thea was staying in Scotland forever.
Of course marrying Niall six months after they met had definitely forced Grams to get accustomed to the fact that Thea would only ever be returning home for visits.
That day on the road had changed everything. She had hoped she found something special with him. She had wanted to believe it, had longed to believe in the forever he was offering.
Within the week she knew it for truth.
She was totally, irrevocably in love. And as the days slid to weeks to months, she knew that wasn’t going to change. She wanted him in her life forever.
He proposed t
o her precisely one week after walking in on her asleep on his couch.
Worried that he might regret it later and come to change his mind, she made him wait. Even though she knew she already loved him, caution from the old fears of her failed relationships made her wait.
She didn’t want him to change his mind. She couldn’t live through that again, not this time with a man who really mattered to her, with a man she really loved. It would be unendurable.
He’d proposed every day for three months until she finally said yes.
He loved her. He wanted her. And he wasn’t going to change his mind. They were married three months later in a beautiful spring wedding. The Highland heather was in wild bloom outside the village church. Gina, her grandmother, her cousin, aunt, and a few other close friends flew over for the occasion.
And here she was. Married to a six-foot-four surly Scot who made love to her every night (often in the day too) and whose smiles were reserved for her alone. A year and a half later and still no regrets. Still blissfully happy. Even the worst day here was better than any day she’d had before.
She leaned back against the front door. He was shirtless as he worked. She admired the play of his muscles as he pounded the hammer, and she felt the familiar stirrings. She would never grow tired of that sight. Never not feel this arousal, not feel this love.
Her stomach growled again, reminding her of the reason she came out here.
“Niall,” she called, waving at him. “Want some lunch?”
He looked up. Even across the distance she could make out the grin on his face. He climbed off the roof, swinging down and landing on his feet on the new porch deftly.
He strode across to where she stood, pressing a hard kiss to her lips and tweaking her nose. “You’ve smudged some charcoal there.”
“Oh.” She rubbed at it with the back of her hand. She’d been painting local landscapes for the previous year and selling them to shops in the surrounding villages. They were very popular among tourists.
Her landscapes brought in a tidy little sum every month. Her hand drifted to her stomach. Due to recent developments, she’d put aside her acrylic paints for pencil and charcoal. It was a happy sacrifice and only temporary. She was quite enjoying the new medium anyway.
This life was more than she ever hoped for. She was in love and loved in return. And painting again.
And—
“How’s our wee one here?” Niall bent down and pressed a kiss to her belly.
Four months ago she had her IUD removed. It hadn’t take very long to get pregnant. No surprise, she supposed. They did practice quite a lot.
“Famished,” she replied.
He straightened and wrapped an arm around her waist, hauling her against me. “Then we better feed you.”
Lifting her off her feet, he carried her into the house. She fanned her fingers against his hard shoulders, damp with sweat. “And perhaps after lunch, you can take a break.”
“A break?” His eyes gleamed down at her in amusement. He knew what break was code for. Rarely did a day pass without a break.
“You know, wife, this house would have probably been finished three months ago if I took less breaks.”
She grinned. “Are you sorry? Should I stop suggesting them?”
He claimed her mouth in a slow, searing kiss, his hand drifting down to palm and squeeze her ass. He pulled back to growl against her lips, “Don’t you dare. I don’t regret a single break. I see a long future ahead of us with many such breaks.”
She sighed happily, not doubting that for a moment. She saw their future too. And it was this.
It was beautiful.
* * *
I hope all of you loved Thea and Niall’s story. It was largely inspired by my trip to Scotland. As I traveled through that beautiful country, I kept imagining an American getting abandoned by a tour bus and ending up at some sexy Scot’s cottage. It was so much fun to write this story as a modern-day Goldilocks.
If you enjoyed it, you can read more of my sexy contemporary romances in my Devil’s Rock series. Start with ALL CHAINED UP:
“Off-the-charts hot and emotionally charged! Get ready for these sexy-as-sin ex-cons to take you on a wild ride!”
(NYT bestselling author Elle Kennedy, praise for The Devil’s Rock series)
“I read the gritty, sexy as hell, addictive story in one sitting!”
(#1 New York Times Bestselling Author Kresley Cole)
There are bad boys and then there are the men of Devil’s Rock . . .
Some men come with a built-in warning label. Knox Callaghan is one of them. Danger radiates from every lean, muscled inch of him, and his deep blue eyes seem to see right through to Briar Davis’s most secret fantasies. But there’s one major problem: Briar is a nurse volunteering at the local prison, and Knox is an inmate who should be off-limits in every way.
Knox feels it too—a shocking animal magnetism that drives him to risk his own life to protect Briar’s. Paroled at last, he tries to resist her. She’s too innocent, too sweet, and she has no idea what Knox is capable of. But a single touch can lead to a kiss—and a taste . . . until the only crime is denying what feels so right . . .
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BROKEN HARP
A Jack and the Beanstalk Retelling
Nora Flite
Chapter One
Jack
When I was sixteen, I met an angel.
On that same night, I met the devil himself.
Towering over me in a way my father never had and never would, Mister Big watched me from the nexus of his private, aging booth. The Copper Tub was an opulent jazz club full of glass chandeliers and drink menus that didn’t bother to list the prices. I was smart enough to know he was making a point by holding our meeting here.
Places like this screamed money.
Money was more important to me than my soul.
“Here,” he said, sliding the pile of paperwork towards me. The corners of the pristine sheets touched a small beer puddle; they turned a rusty color. “It’s all in order. A quick signature, then you and I will be the majority owners of the club I plan to buy.”
I brushed my fingertips over the ink. There were two men sitting beside Mister Big, neither had spoken a word to me. They just watched and waited and expected. “It’s really that simple?” I asked, shifting in the plush booth.
His lips pulled back in a smile so thin I waited for it to split open and show all of his teeth and gums. “It’s as simple as you want it to be, Jack. Selling your property to me is much smoother than trying to go on the market. One shady auctioneer, and your home… your mother’s jewelry… well.” His shoulders rocked upwards. “You’d get nothing. Not a dime, not what any of it’s worth.”
What it’s worth, I thought, my fingertips digging into my thighs under the table. Mister Big had listed everything I’d been sent to sell at the bottom of the paperwork: my childhood home, my dead father’s fading farm, and my mother’s most prized possession. The printed words called them jewels, but they were so much more than that. I’d watched from the hallway as my mother sat at her cracked vanity, stroking the necklace with its three kidney-bean sized emeralds. She did it often, she did it without thought—and she’d done it up until she’d handed the necklace to me in a box while her tired eyes turned puffy with tears.
Behind me, there was a noise. It was mild; the slight rustling of the club waking up. Speakers squeaked with feedback. On impulse, I looked up and away from the paperwork that would change my life.
And I saw her.
Dressed in gold sequins that hugged her young, budding curves, she swept across the small stage on the opposite end of the club. Luscious strands of thick hair—thicker than molasses, surely smelling as sweet—framed her face and drew out the rich blue of her eyes.
She was a stranger to me, but low in my gut, I knew her the way only
young love knows itself.
“Jack?”
I twisted back to face Mister Big and his associates. His face was placid, his huge hands resting over each other in a sign of immense patience. “Sorry,” I said, scanning the pages again. “This is all new for me.” The men chuckled—my insides twisted. “How long do I have to wait before you sell everything and invest it into your new club?”
“Oh, not long. I’ve got interested buyers already.”
Already? But I’d only spoke with him on the phone yesterday. It had been a chance meeting with one of his representatives who’d put us in touch. Originally, I’d wandered into the town’s marketplace, searching for a local realtor to help me place my home for sale, as my mother had asked. She was too ill to make the trip and we’d been without a car for some time. I was used to walking the five miles, I didn’t even mind.
On the road with the blue sky above, I could forget how fucked up my life was.
Mister Big leaned closer. “You’re not getting nervous, are you?” His thick beard made his frown look even more severe. “I’m sure I can find another man interested in investing with me. Another man who wants to sit as my partner and rake in the passive cash of a hot new club.”
Sweat collected between my shoulder blades. No one had called me a man before. When he did, it skirted the edge of an insult. I was messing up the biggest deal in my life. My mother would be furious, my mother would…
“Silent waters,” a voice crooned through the air. Instantly the club went dead silent.
The woman on the stage was singing.
A pen dropped heavily onto the table, startling me. One of the other men—a lanky guy who still managed to fill out his gray suit—leaned backwards. I realized he’d dropped the pen, reading all the cues from his boss to hurry this forward.
I was hesitating… but why? What was I worried about? If I didn’t sell everything, my mother and I would be out on the street. The bank wanted to foreclose; I’d been unable to find work in this shithole of a town, or at least, nothing that could afford the high-rate escalating payments the bank wanted so suddenly.
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