by Kam McKellar
Abbie couldn't look away.
She'd always been a keen observer and a lifelong people watcher, and she was certain she'd just glimpsed the real Liam. The moment left her disconcerted and a whole lot curious. Maybe he wasn't all that he pretended to be, a mystery just begging to be solved...
Oh, jeez. That was all she needed.
Hot guy plus mystery equaled trouble with a capital T.
The wind over the loch brought with it a cool chill. She pulled on her jacket and gave herself a stern internal lecture. She'd enjoy the day, focus on writing, and keep her emotions locked down tight. Easy, right? “Aren't you cold?” she asked, approaching.
“We Highlanders are impervious to cold, haven't you heard?”
The breeze flung her hair in her face. She pushed it aside and smiled. “So where should we start?” Abbie gazed up at the tower and the walls of the castle. According to the brochure she'd read, two stories of the tower were still intact, and safe to explore with a guide, along with some of the walls and one of the fireplaces in the Great Hall.
“The way is a bit rocky,” Liam said, holding out his hand.
She hid her hesitation and took his hand not wanting him to think she couldn't handle a little skin to skin contact. It wasn't a big deal. Except that it kind of was because when his big hand wrapped around hers, it sent a jolt right to her chest.
Focus, she reminded herself. Enjoy the day. Not a big deal.
After all, today was a once in lifetime event. When else would she get a personal tour of a honest to goodness castle by someone whose ancestors actually lived right in this very spot?
CHAPTER 5
He was going straight to hell.
Bree hadn't been murdered. It had been well documented that she'd slipped and fell, not from the tower, but down the steps while hurrying to midday meal. A tragedy to be sure. He hadn't been able to stop the lie; it had flowed from his mouth with ease. To hold the lass's interest. To give him the day with her. Pathetic, really. He was once an honest man. And now... Hell, the ground wasn't even that rocky and yet there he was holding out his hand as if the way was treacherous indeed.
He'd never felt this confused in his life. And to top it off, the lie had given him heartburn.
Her hand fit nicely in his and he had to stop the urge to link their fingers in a more intimate way, deciding it was better to say as little as possible so as not to dig himself a faster grave.
Twenty minutes later, he found he was actually a damn good tour guide. When it came to playing photographer, however, he wasn't so keen on the idea and was glad to return Abbie's camera after snapping a few pictures of her standing in the massive fireplace. Every time he focused the lens on her, his heartburn seemed to flare.
What he wouldn't give for an antacid.
“Thanks.” She stepped out of the fireplace and took the camera, then snapped a few pictures of the stonework detail on the mantel. “Did you play here when you were little?” she asked as she focused the lens.
“My brother and I. And my cousins, too, when they'd come over for the summers. Imagine five lads running wild on the estate. Any trouble you can imagine we got into, we probably did.”
“You were the youngest.”
“By a few years, aye.”
She eased her camera down and regarded him. “Was that hard? Keeping up with the others?”
He smiled. “Sometimes. If anything it made me more determined.”
“That must've helped you when you went into the military.”
He never considered it, but he supposed it had helped shape him, had made him determined to succeed at whatever challenge was thrown his way.
“What was it you did in Her Majesty's army?”
“Marines.” She took a few more pictures, slowly making her way around the hall—or what was left of it. Uncomfortable with the question, he made his answer brief. “Was a Mountain Leader. Specialized in mountain and arctic warfare, long range recon...”
“You saw combat then?”
He nodded. Thankfully she didn't question him on the details. Instead, she dug into another area. “So what made you join in the first place?”
She took a few more pictures as he glanced at the open sky above them, grateful the rain had held out. “Sometimes I wonder why I left this place,” he answered more to himself than to her. “Young, wanted to prove myself.” He'd seen and done way more than he ever imagined, and there were times he wondered why the hell he'd gone and left his peaceful home for war. But deep down he knew. And he was surprised he laid voice to it. “My father was in the service, before he met my mother. So, there's that...”
That indeed. The memories he had of the man were few and far between, and the times he could remember were the times his da would sit him on his lap and show him photo albums of his military days. Aye, his father had a lot to do with it, with Liam seeking something, some link to the man perhaps. Not that he ever found it, but he'd tried.
“Ever been in love?”
He blinked at the question and found Abbie gazing at him with a small smile, before pulling the camera up to hide her face. He wanted to ask the same question of her, but he knew the answer already. Of course she had. She'd been married, after all.
“Why the questions?” he asked, as they moved toward the stone stairs.
“Just curious. Comes with the territory, I guess.”
“A solver of mysteries,” he said as she went up the steps. “Do you see everyone as a mystery, Abbie?” She turned, two steps ahead of him, putting them eye level. It'd be so easy to reach out...
“Only the interesting ones,” she said with a cute shrug and a smile that hit him square in the chest.
With that, she jogged up the ancient, winding steps.
Liam stayed there for a minute, one foot paused on the first step, a wee bit stunned that her words would carry such weight. Christ, even his heart was beating a shade faster. He gazed up the centuries old stairs, sunlight spilling from above, wanting to go after her, to grab her around the waist, pin her against the stone wall and watch her dark eyes go soft just before he kissed her. He wanted her to smile at him again the way she'd done just now.
Halfway up the narrow stairs he found Abbie paused at the arched window. She leaned through to look at the ground below them. “Did she landed down there? Bree? Who found her, do you know?”
Liam braced a hand against the wall. The stairs were so narrow that if he stood in the center and stretched both arms wide, he could place his palms flat on each wall. Growing up, every time he and the lads had come here, they'd run up the stairs to see how much they'd grown and how much farther they had until they were big enough to touch both sides. Back then, they'd thought that being big enough to span the space was the measure of a man.
How little they knew.
He refused to look at Abbie's perfect bottom, despite the fact that it was front and center as she leaned out the window, gazing at the ground below them. When she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes were bright and her expression full of curiosity. During their tour, he had tried to steer the conversation to the things he did know, which, as it turned out, was more than he realized. But to a mystery writer such as herself, he was sure it was all very un-dramatic.
Abbie took his silence for affirmation and said, “Her poor husband. Oh, but he wasn't her husband yet, was he. You said they were hand-fasted.” She straightened as Liam came up another step so that they were eye level once more.
Before he could think it through, he took Abbie's hand, lifting it in the light that shone through the window where dust particles floated in the air. “Aye, hand-fasted.” He turned her hand in his, touching, and then linking his fingers with hers. “See, they would join hands like so, united, promising one to the other.” Her palm was soft, her fingers delicate with short nails that gave him shivers as he imagined them scraping lightly down his bare back... He cleared his throat. “If the couple then shared a bed after being hand-fasted,” he said with a smile, “they
were considered wed at that time, the marriage consummated.”
Abbie seemed to soak in his description, her mouth parted slightly, her eyes big. As he spoke, he closed the distance between them, making his description of hand-fasting an intimate thing. “After their hands were tied, signifying unity,” he continued as her chin tipped higher to meet his gaze, “they sealed the deal.” He leaned down, knowing he shouldn't do it, but couldn't stop himself, “Like so.”
One small kiss, he told himself as he brushed his mouth gently over hers.
Her lips were soft and so sweet a bolt of lust shot straight through him. Her breath mingled with his, feathery and apprehensive and surprised. His hand came up and cupped her cheek.
Abbie's breath quickened, her lips parted more. Her hand, still in his, squeezed tightly and the other fisted the front of his shirt. Her small breathy moan nearly killed him.
He pulled back, heart pounding, wanting nothing more than to keep going, keep tasting, keep touching. He cleared his throat. “And that's hand-fasting,” he managed, amazed that his voice wasn't trembling the way his insides were.
Abbie looked dazed, her lips plump, her eyes soft like he had imagined them earlier. But it didn't take long for confusion to appear in the dark depths.
A disquiet settled inside of him, a weight that sobered his need.
What the bloody hell was he doing?
Annoyed with himself, he grabbed her hand and went up the steps intent on getting through the tour and keeping things on an even keel. “Up here was the solar...” Hopefully by the time they made it to the solar, the tent in his trouser would be gone.
The rest of the tour went off quietly and ended with Abbie sitting on a rock near the water, writing notes in her journal as he walked to the shore, bent down, and splashed water on his face. He was a bloody fool for kissing her. He rubbed the back of his neck and then looked out over the loch, wondering where his common sense had fled.
This wasn't like him. He didn't pursue women like her. Abbie wasn't a one night stand or a holiday fling sort of woman. She wasn't going to throw caution to the wind. And even if she did, then what?
She would leave. Go home to her son, her family. He'd never see her again. Developing an attachment was completely and utterly foolish. Unlike him, Abbie was smart to keep her distance.
Yet he couldn't seem to stop himself from wanting to be around her. Hell, he'd only been around her a few times now and already the beginnings of feelings were growing. Feelings.
Good God. He needed a drink.
* * *
Liam was the last to gather in the library of Balmorie Castle. Ian, one-third owner of the castle and the brainchild behind turning the estate into a profitable tourist destination, leaned his against his desk, whisky glass in hand, talking to his brother Devin who sat in one the deep leather chairs. Devin looked exhausted, long legs sprawled out, shadows beneath his eyes. The third brother, Jamie had taken the other seat.
“Ross isn't coming?” Liam asked, noting his brother was missing. Of course he wasn't. Ross was never late, so the fact that he wasn't in the library meant he'd bailed. Annoyed, Liam headed straight for the bar and poured. “Did he at least say why?”
Ian sat his glass on the desk. “Deadline with work.”
Liam snorted before taking a drink. More like his brother wasn't in the mood for company, which had become more and more the norm of late. Liam feared if Ross didn't snap out of it, he'd become a hermit forever. His brother hadn't been the same since their short stay in America twelve years ago when their mother had lived for a brief time with bourbon maker, Whitney Dean. That hadn't exactly work out for all involved...
“Now that we're all here...” Ian began. “Business is good. Much better than projected. Kudos to you, Liam, for taking the brunt of Dev's construction work so he can help Kate with the baby.”
Liam shrugged. He was beginning to see he'd gotten the better end of the deal. Devin and Kate had a beautiful baby girl, but it was clear the wee lass was keeping them up at night and making life a might stressful at the moment.
“Aye,” Dev agreed, glancing over the back of his chair with bloodshot eyes. “Lifesaver. Piper is colicky, whatever the hell that means.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “I just hope it's over soon.”
“We have two more cottages to finish up and add to the list,” Ian went on, turning his attention to Liam. “I wanted to talk to you and Ross about the old crofter cottage on your land.”
Liam knew the place well. Nice location, near the water, all stone. “Big job,” he said. “Place needs gutted, a new roof, rewiring...”
“We'd like to add it to the holiday rentals,” Jamie said.
“Dinna see it being a problem. I'll have to speak with Ross...”
“We'll cover all restoration costs and maintenance and management, and work out fair compensation,” Ian said, before drawing a deep breath. “And then there's the three on Malcolm's land...”
“You canna be serious.”
“He's your uncle,” Devin spoke up. “Talk him into it. He needs the money. We'll cover costs and management, same deal we'll make with you and Ross. He willna have to lift a finger.”
With a heavy sigh, Liam set his glass on the bar behind him. “You ken there's a reason we named him the Great and Terrible. He's worse than Ross. Can be a bloody bastard, even if he is my uncle.”
Jamie's lips quirked. “Put on your big boy pants and ask.”
“Aye, and the fact that none of you have gone up there and asked him yourself tells me yer big boy pants never even came out of the drawer.”
Devin chuckled and let out a hefty sigh. “God, I want a drink.”
“I'll pour,” Liam said, turning around to the bar.
“Have to pass. In the shape I'm in, it'd put me out like a light.”
Liam settled back against the bar, eyeing his three cousins. “Balmorie has a good share of rentals already,” he said. “You think expanding so soon is wise? It'll cost quite a bit to restore those cottages.”
“We've talked about making a couple of them available to veterans and military for low to zero cost,” Jamie said. “In order to do that, we need additional rentals to eventually cover the lost revenue.”
Liam's brow rose. All three of his cousins were retired military. He understood immediately what Jamie was saying, and he'd never felt prouder of his kin. The fact that they wanted to offer a place for men and women to come for R&R... A place like Balmorie, with its beauty and peace could do wonders for the soul. He could vouch for that. His throat went thick and he took another drink to clear it. “It's a grand idea.”
Silence fell upon the library, each man no doubt recalling his own struggles, returning from combat, fitting back into civilian life...
“Lucy is keen on starting a spa here in the castle,” Ian broke the quiet. “There's a few rooms on the third floor that will work. We'll do massages, facials...” He waved a hand, obviously out of his comfort zone with spa-related stuff.
“Who's going to perform these services, exactly?” Liam asked.
“Lucy is taking point. Said she'd find someone certified...”
“It's a good idea,” Dev said with a yawn. “Women love that shite.”
“Men, too,” Liam told them. “Ever have a pedicure?” They looked at him as though he'd sprouted wings. Liam grinned and saluted them with his glass and let his accent go thick. “Haven't lived, lads, until ye've had a lass massage yer feet, ankles, and calves for twenty minutes...” Smiling, he drained his glass. “Amateurs,” he said when he was done.
Jamie chuckled, shaking his head. Ian started laughing, and soon Devin was doing the same.
When the meeting ended Liam agreed to talk to Ross and Malcolm. His uncle would be glad to see him, but Malcolm was the kind of man who was possessive about his space, his land, his privacy. This wasn't going to be easy.
CHAPTER 6
Riley's formal engagement party was held in Balmorie Castle's large conservatory, which
ran nearly the entire length of the loch-facing side of the castle. It was a beautiful addition with a dozen huge glass windows. And, on occasion, it served as an excellent ballroom.
Abbie was helping to move a few potted plants to a table that had been pushed along the wall. Liam and Jamie were moving furniture to the far end of the conservatory, arranging things to Fran's exacting standards. Riley and her cousin Lucy were adding table cloths, while Blake and Mia brought in trays that would, in a hour or so, hold delicious homemade Scottish fare.
A few times, Abbie felt Liam's gaze, but ignored it and kept working. His hand-fasting kiss yesterday had thrown her completely off track. And, in all honesty, she was still a little dazed. It was the sweetest, slowest, sexiest kiss she'd ever had and it had done all sorts of happy things to her body. The way her heart had tripped... She'd completely lost her purpose for the day and spent the afternoon—when she should have been working—lost in clouds.
