by Kam McKellar
This evening she vowed to keep her distance.
Finishing her task, she joined the girls with the table set-up.
“Have you been to the chapel yet?” Mia asked her with a friendly smile as they worked.
“No. You?”
“Yeah. We went yesterday. Where were you, by the way? We went by your cottage.”
“I was at the castle ruins.”
Riley placed a pile of napkins on the table. “Hmm. Now that's funny. Liam told Jamie he went to the ruins yesterday, too.”
Blake leaned past Riley with a megawatt smile. “Abbie, you didn't!”
“No,” she laughed, busying her self with rolling napkins and placing them inside rings. “Rest assured my virtue is in tact,” she said, dryly.
Riley couldn't seem to contain her smug smile. “So, how was it then, exploring the ruins with our fair Liam?”
Instantly, his kiss flooded her memory. Her cheeks went warm and she tried like hell to put a damper on her reaction. “Fine. He told me all about the history and that poor girl getting murdered there.”
“What girl?” Fran asked, depositing a large vase of freshly picked wild flowers on the table. The elderly woman had become one of Abbie's favorite people at the estate. They'd met on Abbie's first morning when she'd joined Riley at the castle for breakfast.
“Bree, the one who was pushed from the tower.”
Fran's brow knit into a frown. “Who's been telling ya such nonsense? Bree MacLaren took a spill down the stairs on her way to midday meal.”
Abbie blinked. It took a moment for the woman's words to sink in. Liam had totally played her. And she'd bought it hook line and sinker. As if on cue, he walked back into the conservatory with Jamie as they went for another piece of furniture. His gaze swept over the group. He was grinning at something Jamie said, and he looked so good Abbie wanted to kill him.
Fran chuckled, looking between the two. “Aye, our Liam can sure tell a tale or two.”
“Oh, aye, he sure can,” Abbie muttered, glaring at his back as he headed to the far end of the room.
As Fran went to the kitchen, the three friends gathered around her. “All right, out with it. What really happened in the ruins?” Mia asked.
“Nothing. Nothing happened except a lot of tall tales.”
“I think he's totally into you,” Blake said, watching Liam from over Abbie's shoulder.
“He's not. And he knows where I stand, so nothing has or will happen.”
“Well if he's into you and you're into him, what's the harm?” Riley asked, apparently the eternal optimist and romantic.
“I'm not into him.”
Mia and Riley laughed.
“Girl.” Blake felt Abbie's forehead for fever, then stared over her shoulder as Liam and Jamie hefted a couch and carried it away. “Somethings gotta be wrong with you if you're not into that.”
Abbie laughed and swatted Blake's hand away, turning back to the task of rolling napkins and putting them in the pretty Celtic-style napkin rings. “So the chapel...” she prompted in an effort to turn attention away from all things Liam.
Her friends grudgingly dropped the subject.
“The chapel is amazing.”
“So romantic.”
“Lucy and Ian were married there over the winter,” Riley told them. “Their wedding was beautiful. That was the night I started to fall for Jamie.”
And, no doubt, it was the night Liam had his winter wedding hook up. She was kind of sorry she'd asked now.
“You should go see it, Abs,” Mia suggested.
“It's not far, just beyond the garden by the patio. There's a small stone path leading to the chapel,” Riley told her.
“Maybe later after the party, I'll take a look.” As the chatter continued, Abbie half paid attention, her thoughts on Liam and his tall tales. She wanted to give him hell for filling her head with some made up story. Though, she had to give him props—it was a good story, and she'd been so eager. So eager that she felt a tinge of embarrassment at having believed him so completely.
Joke was on her.
Maybe she'd concoct a story of her own and allow him to believe it for a little while. Would serve him right. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more resolved she was to the task. He'd fed her what she wanted to hear, knowing her profession and that it'd appeal to her, so maybe she'd return the favor.
* * *
After helping set up for the party Abbie went home to change.
She told herself a gazillion times she wasn't dressing for Liam, but the truth was, she wanted to tempt him. Probably juvenile, but he deserved a little hell for his deception at the ruins, which, incidentally, had given her imagination a spark, one that she could easily flame into a kick ass story. She should be thanking him, not giving him hell.
But then, the idea of giving Liam MacLaren a little hell added a level of excitement she hadn't felt in a long time. She couldn't resist.
Her dress choice for the night was a sexy summer number with spaghetti straps, flowing skirt, and a bodice that hugged her chest and accentuated her cleavage quite nicely. She never considered herself a great beauty, but she always thought the sky-blue color went well with her black hair and olive skin. The skirt fell just below the knee, and she wore wedge sandals that strapped around her ankles.
After she was dressed, she'd twisted her black hair into a messy knot and added drop earrings.
All set, she'd hopped on her bike, tucking her skirt under her, and pedaled to the castle. The girls would think her crazy for her mode of transport, but somehow it felt romantic to coast by the pretty scenery with the wind in her face and her skirt fluttering around her.
At the castle, Abbie parked the bike and adjusted her skirt before entering the castle. Music carried through the Great Hall. In addition to family and friends, Riley had invited every guest at Balmorie. There were small groups talking near the fireplace and lounging in the comfy seating areas. But, judging by the noise down the hall, most of the guests were in the conservatory.
As she moved past the grand stairs, she stopped cold at the sight of Liam in the embrace of a beautiful woman with a fall of honey blond hair and infectious smile. He leaned back and gave the woman a very blatant once over.
Heart in her throat, Abbie stepped back, stunned, the sight causing a disappointed chill to swept through her entire body.
A heavy sensation settled in her chest and she felt a little . . . wounded.
More than a little, if she was being honest.
Liam wasn't hers. Hell, he was so far away from being hers that it was silly to care about him or his love life at all.
Get it together.
Drawing in a deep breath, she prepared to walk by and ignore the gorgeous couple, but as she started, Liam and the woman joined arms and walked toward the party, heads together in private conversation.
Obviously, they were very familiar with each other.
Just as well, she thought, lifting her chin and trying like hell to ignore the sour knot in her chest.
Abbie plastered a smile on her face, searched the crowd, and located her friends. As the party progressed and conversations came and went, she couldn't seem to shake her pensive mood. Eventually, dancing began, so she took a place by a tall plant and watched the dancers go round and round in steps that were very similar to Square Dancing.
Blake and Mia were having a ball and flirting outrageously, which made Abbie smile, while Riley only had eyes for her handsome Highlander.
Abbie's heart went soft as she watched them together. It made her wish and want for things she'd kept at arm's length for the last four years. She couldn't remember the last time she'd opened her heart, even a little.
As she moved to the table to pour herself a drink, she struck up a conversation with Fran who was busy manning the table and helping serve guests. After they exchange pleasantries, Fran's eyes went wide at whatever was lurking over Abbie's shoulder. “Oh, dear heavens,” the woman muttered.
“What is it?” Abbie followed Fran's gaze to find a tall, black-haired Scot who had marched inside from the patio. The man radiated anger, his wide shoulders tense and his eyes spitting fire. “Who's that?”
“That'd be Ross MacLaren. And in a foul mood he is. No doubt he and Liam had words again...” She let out a sigh, shaking her head. At Abbie's confusion, Fran explained, “They're brothers, ye ken?”
She took another look at the big Scot and immediately saw the resemblance. “They don't get along?”
“Oh, they get along fine. But of late, things have been a wee bit tense between them, ye might say.” Abbie picked a chip from the bowl nearby, wanting to inquire more, but she didn't want to seem nosy. Luckily, Fran continued without a hitch.
“Liam wants his brother ta live, no' lock himself up there in that big house of his. And our Ross—as good as he is—seems ta think everything is fine. Why, look at the lad. Big, handsome brute needs ta find a good woman, have wee ones...” Fran looked at Abbie with a critical eyes.
Abbie laughed and held up her hands. “No, not me. I'm off the market.”
“Well, canna blame an auld woman for trying,” Fran said with a smile. “Is yer husband no' here with ye, lass?”
“No. No husband. Divorced. Have a beautiful little boy, though.”
Fran seemed just as eager to talk kids as she had been about Ross, so Abbie spent the next few minutes going on about her favorite subject. When Fran went off to refill the punch bowl, Abbie made her way to the patio. Liam had already come in and was dancing with a large group, including his brother and the gorgeous blond.
The evening air was mild, the loch beautiful, the slight breeze making her turn her face into the wind. With the music and sounds of the party behind her and the view in front of her, she felt content. She never minded being alone. She had no issues with dining alone, watching movies alone, or living her life the past four years without a partner. The quiet was her balm, the thing which energized her. An introvert, some might say. And they'd probably be right.
But there were times when she missed and craved connections.
She was lonely. Acutely so, and had been for quite some time.
Her eyes misted, so she avoided the subject and walked to the edge of the patio where she found the garden, which wrapped around the corner of the castle and then spread out in a neatly designed pattern. As she strolled the narrow paths between herbs and flowers and vegetables, she thought of her mother, an avid gardener, and reminded herself to call when she got back to the cottage and also to send a few pictures she'd taken of the ruins.
One of the paths led into the trees. Abbie took it, figuring it was the path to the chapel that Riley had mentioned.
Among the trees, the air was cooler, the scents of earth and pine strong. With the Scottish music blaring behind her, she felt like she'd stepped through time and the thought made her smile.
Soon, she arrived at the stone chapel. It was small and quaint and utterly charming with its peeked roof, arched double doors made from thick wood, and matching arched windows. The wildflowers in beds, the wooden bench in a secluded spot, the vines framing the chapel door... It was all so perfect.
Riley's wedding was going to be amazing. It was the most romantic spot Abbie had ever seen.
Inside, the chapel was cool and the light was dim. There was a short row of pews and an open area at the front with a raised dais, altar table, and a wooden Celtic cross hanging on the wall below a small stained glass window.
She sat in the front row and closed her eyes, just absorbing the atmosphere, the history, the smell of wood and stone, and the lovely sounds of bagpipes now playing from the castle. Like a dream, she thought with a smile. She'd always wanted to visit Scotland. Her love of books had led her through Scottish historicals, romances, and mysteries. But no words on paper could ever compare to the real thing, to the place she sat right now, to the people she'd met, or the landscape in Balmorie.
How great would it be to live here, to buy a small cottage and watch Logan grow up with miles and miles of hills and forests and all the freedom a kid could ask for.
Letting her imagination run wild, Abbie stayed in the chapel until the hard wooden pew hurt her back. By the time she left, twilight had descended—or the gloaming—as it was called. The tall lantern by the chapel had come on and as she began the journey back, she noticed the path was lit with small lanterns hanging from hooks stuck into the ground.
It was such a beautiful sight it made her pause and take it all in. It was a magical, plain and simple. And in a weird way, it made her feel even more lonely than before.
What would it be like to have what Riley and Jamie had? She'd thought she'd had that with Jake, but looking back now, it was clear what she'd felt and hoped for with Jake hadn't even come close.
Lucy and Ian had married in the chapel at night in the snowy winter. How lovely that must have been. Though a nighttime wedding in the summer time would be just as incredible. She could see it clearly. Lights strung in the trees. The chapel lit up and decorated. The flowers and vines blooming.
On her walk back, she saw a small path leading deeper into the woods. Feeling adventurous, she followed it, eventually emerging from the woods to find a quaint pebble beach by the shores of the loch. A rope swing hung from a large tree branch. There were two Adirondacks and two canoes pulled onto the shore. The area was lit with lanterns and lights in the trees, and Abbie felt like she'd just found a wonderful little secret.
Next time she'd bring her notebook.
Careful over the rocks, she made her way to the swing and sat on the wooden plank, grabbing both sides of the thick rope and pushing off.
CHAPTER 7
Liam looked everywhere for Abbie. Her bike was still leaning against the side of the castle and the last time anyone had seen her was over an hour ago on the patio. Upon Mia's suggestion, he was now making his way to the chapel. If Abbie wasn't there, he might start worrying.
She wasn't in the chapel.
Bloody hell.
As he exited the small building, his concern mounted. He put his hands on his hips and listened. She could be anywhere. As he walked back through the woods, the path to the secluded pebble beach had him turning. As he drew closer, the sounds of a constant wooden creak told him someone was there, swinging.
Relief filled him at the sight of Abbie swinging gently, her legs straight, her ankles crossed, the hem of her dress riding up her thighs. She leaned to one side, her head resting on the rope as though lost in a daydream.
He knew he should leave her to her solitude, but even as he had the thought he was walking forward, his boots crunching loudly over the small rocks. At the sound, she jerked, spinning the swing around. When she saw it was him, relief relaxed her shoulders, but her eyes narrowed to fine points.
The soft lights cast everything in an otherworldly glow and made Abbie's skin golden. It was hard not to stare as he sat on the Adirondack's armrest to face her, his outward movements deceptive while inside he was . . . Good, Lord. Nervous.
“Party is still going strong...” he began quietly, able to hear the faint sounds of music and the occasional burst of laughter.
She didn't answer, just pushed the swing back and forth with her toe.
“Planning on coming back anytime soon?” Conflict flowed through him. He was glad he'd kissed her and yet he was kicking himself for making a move that obviously had alienate her. Why else had she avoided him all night?
“Why do you care, Liam?” A frown lined her forehead. “I'm sorry, I don't mean that in a rude way.”
His heart skipped a beat and he blinked, surprised she'd be so blunt. He knew exactly what she meant, but he needed a minute to gather his thoughts, so he asked, “How do you mean it then, Abbie?”
“Your family is back there, your date... the last thing you should be worrying about is me.”
His brow raised. He didn't know where to start. The mysterious date he supposedly had or why he'd come looking for
her. Why the hell had he? She repeatedly made it known she wasn't interested and here he was making an ass out of himself, following her around like some pathetic lovesick fool. Aye, he'd worried about her. But obviously she didn't want him to or need him to.
Regretting his decision to come find her, he stood. “My mistake. Enjoy your evening, Abbie.”
Her soft curse reached him as he covered the beach with a long stride. “Damn it. Liam, wait.”
