Best Laid Plaids (Kilty Pleasures)

by Ella Stainton

“Have I?” Gray eyes twinkled. “I thought it was only me who needs a steadying hand.” They swayed to the music, and it was enough.

  If only he could explain to Ainsley how precious it was to share the glow of the Scotsman’s confidence. How it made him feel more whole than he’d felt in years. But all of that was sentimental and would do nothing but drive the ginger away if he dared mention it. So he swallowed it down the way he always did, and merely said, “I’m sorry I can’t truly dance.”

  Tilting his chin to the side, Ainsley moved even closer. “I promise you that this is turning into my favorite number of the evening. Sing to me, won’t you?” Ainsley licked his lips so close to Joachim that the wet brush of tongue edged his own mouth.

  “I don’t know the words.” But he cocked his head to listen. A trite listing of the things the woman’s lover liked, so that was her weakness now. Gracious, he understood all too well.

  A heady balance of thrill and coziness Joachim had never experienced with anyone before. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears. Skin flushed.

  Taking all the time in the world not to tangle their elbows, they unbuttoned each other’s shirts one-handed. Threw them down to a chair once they were ready to come off. Skin buffeting against skin was a perfect aphrodisiac.

  After a number of refrains, he understood the pattern and substituted his own words, hoping to make the younger man smile the way he did when his face lit up the room, using an overblown American drawl. “He likes spotted dogs. I never cared for spotted dogs. He likes spotted dogs, and they’re my weakness now.”

  Ainsley rubbed his nose against Joachim’s, body trembling slightly. “Violet will be glad to know you went straight for her. A man after my heart. Keep going.”

  He sucked the younger man’s bottom lip past his teeth so he groaned before releasing him again. “Are we getting naked in the middle of your sitting room, Dr. Graham?”

  “If my luck holds, yes.” His ginger unbuttoned his fly and pushed the trousers over Joachim’s arse.

  * * *

  The following day, it was hard not to touch Graham, more ruggedly dressed than usual in a kilt of tans and browns and muted greens that would blend in with the landscape. A cable-knit sweater that set off his coloring to perfection. And the legs. Always the legs, which were more toned than he’d have guessed for a man so slender.

  Bloody hell he’d miss those legs around his waist.

  And shoulders.

  Shite.

  There was a bit of a drizzle, but they were both used to the same sorts of weather, and Joachim’s ankle was still unusually pain free, and somehow Ainsley had a Barbour jacket large enough to fit him. Hector, the other brother who’d died in the war, was a footballer before he signed up. Graham urged him to keep it, if he wished.

  Take it home.

  The last place he wished to go or to even think about, damn it.

  He was miserable company. If he could spend a few hours with his weights to work out his anxiousness he’d be much better off. Except he wouldn’t, because he’d be gone, far away from his Dr. Graham.

  Ainsley was quiet as they tromped through soggy, yellowy grass toward what looked like a cattle farm.

  “Which ghost is this?” Joachim asked, more to hear something besides the regret clanging in his brain.

  The handsome young man shivered like he’d been somewhere else entirely. “The drover. I believe it’s said he was caught by the clan whose cows he was stealing and they killed him.”

  Who’d have ever thought he’d be in this position, that he was asking where to find which spirit? “And you’ve seen it?”

  A hesitant shrug was his answer, but Ainsley walked close enough that the back of their hands grazed one another. There was no one around—no houses, no people. If his ginger would only take his hand. For a squeeze.

  Any word. Any sign that Dr. Graham wanted to continue this and he’d...well...what would he do? Even if Ainsley wished to continue this affair—because he had to name it something and it had the hallmarks of an affair to his mind—how could it be managed? Their lives were as far apart as if Joachim lived on Mars.

  If his mercurial young man was willing to continue, there was no practical way for it, even beyond the immediacy of its being illegal. He lived hours away and had no access to a car. Ainsley did, but it’s not as though he could bring the wild creature into the house he shared with his sister.

  Nor could they spend the night—or any other time of the day—together at Stuart’s.

  He must rein in this desperate ache to gallop forward regardless of the logistics.

  They stopped in the middle of a field. “Here.” Ainsley met his eyes for a flash and then dropped them.

  The bellowing of cows over the wind was all the sound there was.

  And they waited for an absurdly long time. Twenty minutes, perhaps, without speaking. Standing in a soggy field that reeked of manure.

  Finally, it was too much. “This is a well-known spirit, this drover?” Joachim glanced around unconvinced.

  His ginger wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Er... I read it in a book. I’ve...um...not actually seen the thing. But it was close to home and—”

  Joachim nodded his head once with sharp understanding. Graham was tired of carting him around and was doing the least amount of work possible.

  The drizzle turned to rain and Joachim turned up the collar of his coat, grateful for it. Violet wandered back from a gallop through the cows with her tail down. God, she was bored with him, too.

  “I think we’ve stayed here long enough, don’t you?” A full half hour had gone by and he could use a cup of tea. And a hat. Rain dripped down his neck and puddled in his collar.

  He was rewarded with a flash of a brilliant smile that cracked across Ainsley’s face. “I wasn’t sure how long you wished to give it. You know, for the hedge creature, we had chairs and a thermos, and you were prepared to wait all night.”

  It was all he could do not to crush his ginger...er... Graham into his arms and kiss him and spill out all of the things he wished to do with him.

  And he couldn’t, because Joachim wasn’t sure he could bear that recoil and distaste.

  Instead he was calm. Capable. Sensible. “It’s miserable out today. And we’ve not got chairs and all the rest.”

  Graham’s head bobbed in the affirmative. “The weather is ghastly. I propose we go back home and sit by the fire and have a toddy to get rid of the chill.”

  Violet nudged her nose to his own thigh and he absently rubbed her head.

  He’d miss the dear dog nearly as much as his companion. His throat got tight. What a damn fool he was, allowing himself to care this much for someone he’d known from the start was no more than a fling.

  “So, are you ready to go home or...?” Ainsley’s smile tugged hard at Joachim’s heart.

  “I’d hoped we could take care of this final ghost today.” He did his best not to sound petulant, but it came out gruffer than intended.

  Ainsley blinked those heavy lashes too many times. Ran his tongue over his bottom lip too enticingly. “I thought maybe we could try somewhere else tomorrow? And if that doesn’t work, perhaps Tuesday? Or take a drive up to Perth on Wednesday, after all.”

  “I’ve got to be back at the hospital. I’m so far behind on my paper—I’m not sure how I’ll get it done by June.” His stomach lurched and he scowled. What the fuck was he going to write about that he could connect to the past two years of his studies, if not for delusions?

  “But you’ll stay tomorrow, at least?” The younger man’s usual confidence was missing.

  Perhaps Ainsley didn’t wish him to leave, after all. Which meant that...but that was foolish to think about. There was no way to make anything work between them. Still. One more night wasn’t anything he’d argue against.

  He pretended to consider. Enjoyed how Graham’
s face wrinkled with concern. “I suppose another day won’t make that much difference in the long run. It’s settled. Tuesday morning, I’ll take the bus home.”

  “That means we won’t waste any more time here? Thank God.” Ainsley tossed back his auburn hair and whistled for Violet, turning back in the direction of his automobile. He followed the redhead, appreciating the easy way he strode over the gorse. Calf muscles dusted with hair, not covered with high socks since it wasn’t a formal affair. Graham seemed to catch himself and turned and waited for them to catch up the way he did.

  Joachim slid into the car and encircled Ainsley’s face with his palms, bringing him close for a kiss—their first since the evening before. Graham pushed Violet out from the middle of them into the back seat and pressed hard against Joachim’s chest. Drew back an inch or two and scanned the Englishman’s eyes.

  “Does this mean you’re not still cross about last night?”

  Lord, he hadn’t been vexed since he realized what harebrained scheme Ainsley and Barley had concocted. He was merely in self-preservation mode.

  But he made himself smile as though he hadn’t a care in the world. “I’m not.”

  Ainsley caught his lip in his teeth, humor flashing in his eyes. “That’s a relief, because all I want to do is take you home and spend the rest of the day in bed. Possibly emerging at teatime, but quite possibly not.”

  With a moan, Joachim scooped the slender man to straddle his thighs—not easy in the circumstances, but necessary. Tomorrow he could worry about it being their last day together. His heartache had received a deferment. Ainsley ground down until they panted and fogged up the windows.

  “Do you know how to drive?” Ainsley sat up and knocked his head against the black soft roof.

  Joachim switched gears without much effort. “No.”

  Gray eyes narrowed with excitement. “Then swap seats with me. This is the perfect sort of road to teach you on. Not a single car has passed us since we got in.”

  “In the rain?” A thrill of nervousness ticked Joachim’s belly. He’d hate to look a fool in front of Ainsley. “And my ankle?”

  “It’s always raining. You’ll be that much safer driving in the sunshine.” Ainsley almost tumbled out the door and dragged Joachim with him. “As to your ankle, that’s easy enough if you learn with your left foot. I’d struggle to relearn because Charlie taught me before he—” The words caught on a choke. Cockburn squeezed his hand and gave an encouraging smile. “Before.”

  That sealed it. He kept his voice light. “Then I have absolute faith you’ll be an excellent teacher.” And there really hadn’t been any other people on the road to worry about.

  A shyer-than-usual smile blossomed over Ainsley’s face. “Gosh, thanks. I was good at it, before...you know.”

  “I believe it, Dr. Graham. I’ve learned so much these past few days, more than any of my own history masters ever taught me.”

  Ainsley blinked rather hard and cleared his throat. “And I’m sure all your students will be mad for you once you’re in front of a lecture hall.”

  “Oy me?” Joachim laughed. “I’m nothing special.”

  His companion didn’t respond. Oh well. It was an obvious dangling for a compliment.

  It took some getting used to, sitting behind the leather-covered steering wheel. The younger man pointed out all of the mechanical features with ill-concealed pride. Patiently explained the correct way to shift and press his foot on the pedals. Much sooner than Joachim felt was appropriate, Ainsley told him to turn the ignition.

  The motorcar rumbled to life. Much more life than when Joachim had sat in the passenger seat. The Austin bucked and stalled twice before Cockburn was able to ease it onto the road, and he crept along at a tortoise’s pace until Ainsley’s reassuring tone prodded him to give a bit more petrol.

  For a long time, neither man spoke. As each mile ticked on the odometer, Joachim’s boldness surged. His left leg had grown more dominant since the war, so it wasn’t awkward to use it to press the pedals.

  He had a few clenched-gut minutes as they wound through a village. Ainsley murmured directions on where to slow, and even though he did stall once when he came to a complete stop, he was able to get back in the flow soon enough.

  The second village was easier yet, and he managed to keep the engine on right through.

  They rambled over hills and alongside of glens and by the time he turned down the long gravel drive to Rosethorne, he was disappointed for the adventure to be over. He followed Ainsley’s directions on where to park, and how to pull back the brake, and sighed when he removed the key from the ignition.

  But his ginger’s face glowed when he gave him a loud smack on his lips.

  “You’ll do the driving tomorrow. Do you know, I’ve never allowed anyone else to drive my car?”

  Joachim chuckled. “I’d never have guessed from how calm you were.”

  “Yes, but you’re the last sort to make a man worry.” As he got out of the car, Ainsley gave him an arched look. “Tell me honestly if you’d give Trixie the chance to run it into a tree.”

  “That’s harsh.”

  Pushing open the front door, Graham gestured for Joachim to go in first. “She’s wrecked three cars doing precisely that.”

  He’d have reacted differently if Ainsley didn’t goose his bum hard enough that he gasped and dropped his walking stick. Joachim grabbed his wrists and held them tight to the younger man’s leg. The air crackled around them when Graham twisted enough that his fingers pressed somewhere a wee bit more intimate.

  It was easy to hike the kilt up and stroke the delicate skin of Ainsley’s inner thigh. The gray eyes darkened as the pupils overtook the irises. His mouth opened slightly, breathing hitched.

  “Thank you for teaching me to drive, then. It was more fun than I’d have thought.” Joachim nipped at the throat exposed for him. “What drove you to do it?”

  “Christ, Cockburn, it’s obvious.” The words were more cocksure than the tone.

  “Not to me.” Joachim’s fingers inched higher. “Explain.”

  The young man moaned in his ear. “Fucking hell, you know someone could come in here at any second—”

  He grinned wickedly. “I know. So tell me.”

  Ainsley spread his legs an inch. Brought Joachim’s face closer with his hands so their noses almost touched. “I thought perhaps you could use that tidy sum of money you have stashed away to buy yourself an automobile.”

  The satiny skin under his fingertips hardened.

  “I told you, I don’t need a motorcar.” His own breath sped up.

  The hopefulness in Ainsley’s voice lit a thousand candles aflame across Joachim. “Yes, but if you had one, you could use it to drive back up to visit from time to time.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ainsley

  “Dear God, find a bedroom.” Trixie’s disdain rang through the front hall and Joachim took flight leaping backward. Well, he almost did.

  “We were...” Ainsley tried to think of what they might have been doing, but couldn’t. Besides, it was Trix and it wasn’t like she’d not seen him kiss a man before. Dear Lord; lots of them.

  Perhaps he ought to learn to be more circumspect.

  She smirked. And waited for his excuse. He shrugged.

  “As I thought. But you can’t find a room, after all, because Poppy’s here to play cards and we’re on the verge of murdering each other, and need the two of you to play doubles to keep us from prison.” Trixie reached to grab her brother’s arm, but he darted away.

  “No,” he said, at the same time as Joachim asked which game they were playing.

  Ugh.

  The brute was more excited to play cards than to continue what he’d begun not a minute earlier.

  Christ on a bloody stick.

  He dragged his feet to t
he sitting room, where Poppy sat, a half-drunk sherry at her elbow.

  She lifted her cheek for a kiss, and he dropped an air one on his way to the wet bar. But it was early, and the last thing he wished to do was find himself lushed when the evening concluded and he’d have the chance to take Joachim to bed.

  Poppy greeted Joachim like an old friend, and he settled in the seat across from her, and paid Ainsley no mind at all, the bastard. Maybe the rest wouldn’t notice if he left and he could get out of cards.

  He drifted down to the kitchen, where Mrs. Mackie was in her usual spot behind the stove.

  Typical.

  Nelson flashed a look of warning over the rim of his teacup, but he knew better than to fuss. A heady mixture of beef and vegetables swirled through the room as he poked around for ginger beer.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Mackie,” he said, hands balanced on her shoulders while he leaned over for a sniff. “Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious.”

  His butler gave an approving wink.

  None of his friend’s butlers winked all the time. Actually, none of his friends had butlers. But anyway, he’d rather have a friendly man who sat on his arse in the kitchen while he found his own drinks and cut cheese off the wheel to eat with crackers than a stiff, dull one.

  There was only one man he enjoyed stiff and he’d be gone in forty-eight hours.

  It was unbearable to think that was the end of their friendship.

  How would Joachim take it if he offered to buy him a car? Nothing expensive like his, of course, but...

  Never mind.

  Cockburn was the sort who’d see that as a slight and refuse. When really, it was to make Ainsley’s own life easier. If he drove down to wherever the hell Joachim lived his probably dreary existence—ah, yes, Durham—he’d be forced to stay at Stuart’s house and not in an anonymous hotel.

  Which utterly destroyed the purpose of his driving there.

  Therefore, his big, glorious brute needed to be the one to come to Rosethorne, where they could—with the barest modicum of restraint—enjoy themselves anytime they wanted.