His chest heaved. “That was Aleck.” He came down the steps, his plaid billowing out behind him.
“At three in the morning?”
“Aye.” He put his hands on her shoulders and gazed into her eyes. The bleakness in his expression wasn’t encouraging.
“What’s happened?”
“He just got home. He was in the pub with Catriona’s father until the wee hours.”
“He was drinking with the opposition?”
“Sometimes that’s how matters are settled in Scotland.” He took a deep breath. “Catriona’s father suggested the meetin’ after viewin’ a portion of the video Aleck sent him. He’s droppin’ the charges.”
“But that’s wonderful! Why do you look so upset?”
“He wants to talk with me, man-to-man, so he can apologize. He knows I won’t work for him again, but he wants to introduce me to a friend who owns another distillery. With his recommendation, I’ll be guaranteed a good position in the company, one where I could use my brains instead of my muscles. Aleck promised I’d be there to meet with him.”
Her stomach pitched. “When?”
“Aleck wants me to strike while the iron’s hot. He’s already bought my ticket. The plane leaves first thing in the mornin’.”
“Rory!”
“I know, lass. But he’s fought like a lion for me. I canna refuse to go.”
She bit back her protest. “Of course you can’t.” Lifting her chin, she met his gaze. “But we’re damn well going to make the most of tonight.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rory had chafed at the restriction of having only a few days. Now he had mere hours.
“What time do you have to leave the ranch?”
Slipping an arm around her shoulders, he walked with her up the porch steps and over to the door. “Four-thirty. Need to return the rental, go through security.” He opened the door and ushered her in.
She took a shaky breath and turned to him. “What about Kendra and Quinn? Should we tell them now?”
“What do you say?” He hated the anguish in her eyes.
“I’m not quite up to it.”
“Then we won’t.”
“Should we get them up in the morning?”
“Nay. I’ll text Kendra from the airport.”
“Text me from the airport, too. Text me when you have a layover. Then again when you arrive.”
His heart broke for her. “I dunna want to think about that, now.” He pulled her close. “Not when I’m here, holdin’ ye.”
She gazed up at him and gradually her expression became resolute. Her glasses made her look even more determined. “You’re right. I’m already imagining you gone, but you’re not. Not yet.”
“Not for hours.”
“Seven hours and thirty-six minutes.”
“That’s bloody exact, isn’t it?”
“It’s what I do.”
“And I love ye for it.”
The words registered in her eyes, creating a soft glow that grew brighter.
“You dunna mind me sayin’ so?”
She shook her head. Then she reached up and cupped his cheek. “We don’t have much time. We should say whatever we want. And do whatever we want.”
He tugged her closer. “What d’ye want, lass?”
“To undress you.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Clearly you’ve never fantasized about unwrapping a tartan-clad Scotsman.”
“That’s a fact.”
“Well, I have. Will you let me?”
“Aye, if it makes ye happy.”
“It will. Stand back and just relax.”
“I’ll stand back, but I canna promise to relax with your hands roamin’ everywhere. Certain parts are tensin’ up already.”
“Do your best.”
“I always aim for that.”
“And you succeed very well, Rory McGavin.” She crouched in front of him. “Lift your right foot so I can take off your shoe.”
Her position recalled their adventure in the barn, but she didn’t seem headed in that direction.
She removed his shoes and socks before standing. Grasping the length of material hanging from his shoulder, she held it against her cheek. “So soft.”
“Woven from the finest wool. It’s called a fly plaid.” When they’d set up this modeling session, he’d planned a fitting ending for it. She was moving a wee bit slower than he’d like.
“This looks old.” She searched for the fastening on the medallion.
“’Tis old. Passed down from my great-grandparents. Aleck and I each got one.”
“It’s beautiful.” Unfastening it, she carried it over to the small table near the kitchen area. “For safekeeping.”
Her concern for a family heirloom touched him. Then again, he’d sensed all along he could trust her with anything that mattered.
She came back, lifted the plaid from his shoulder and tugged it free of his belt. “Where should I put this?”
“On the bed.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “You have plans for it?”
“I do.”
She pressed her hand to her heart in that endearing way she’d done this morning. When they’d had days instead of hours.
Removing his shirt didn’t take her long. She hung it over the same kitchen chair where she’d put his shoes and socks. After she unfastened the sporran, she started to take that over to the table, too.
“Ye might want to keep that handy.”
“Handy?
“Leave it by the bed.”
Her eyes widened in understanding. “Appropriate.” She laid the sporran on the floor near the bed.
“Tucked them in there this afternoon.”
“How many?”
“I’m not sayin’.”
“It better be a lot.” She came back and began unfastening the belt attached to his kilt. “I’m planning to wear you out.”
“I’m countin’ on it.”
“Okay, here we go. The moment of truth, when I discover the answer to that burning question.” She pushed the kilt down.
It got hung up on his tadger.
Smiling, she worked the kilt past that jutting impediment and down to his ankles. “You are a true Scot, after all.”
“And a randy one.” He stepped out of the kilt, picked it up and took it over to the chair with all the rest. “Ye had a turn. Now it’s mine.”
She looked him up and down as he came toward her. “Do you have a fantasy of undressing an American girl wearing a knit shirt, boots, jeans and plain white underwear?”
“I do, now.”
“Doesn’t sound exciting to me.”
“Ye are not a randy Scotsman.” Who’s in love with an American girl wearing a knit shirt, boots, jeans and plain white underwear.
He gently removed her glasses and left them by the bed with his sporran. She might want them later. She took out her cell phone and he put that there, too, beside his. He’d already set his alarm.
Heat settled in his loins as he cupped her face in both hands and tasted her ripe mouth. He kissed her only long enough to stoke her fire. When she uttered her first moan, he began taking off her clothes, only pausing here and there to nibble on her delicious body so she’d moan some more. How he loved that sound.
When he’d removed everything, he took her hand and led her over to the sturdy bed. “I want to make love to ye while you’re lyin’ on my plaid.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “I was so hoping you would want that.”
“Never cared to afore.” He spread it out on top of the quilt. Then he scooped her up and laid her in the middle of the soft wool. “Ah, lass, ye look bonnie there. And I want ye so much.”
Her throat moved in a slow swallow and her green eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I want you, too. So very much. That’s…that’s the problem.”
“Only if we make it one.” Picking up the sporran, he took out a packet. He held her gaze as he opened it and rolled
on the condom. “Some never feel like this, not even for a wee moment.”
“I know, but—”
“I’ll never regret gettin’ to be with ye.” Joining her on the bed, he moved between her thighs. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be thankful for findin’ you, for sharin’ somethin’ special.”
He entered her slowly, tenderly. When he was locked in tight, he balanced on his forearms and leaned down to brush her lips with a gentle kiss. “I love ye, Damaris.”
Her voice was choked with tears. “I love you, Rory.”
“I’m takin’ those words and tuckin’ them away in my heart.” Easing back, he pushed deep again. “Whenever I’m sad, I’ll take them out and remember that a beautiful green-eyed lass said those precious words. It’ll be somethin’ to hold onto when we’re apart..”
“But I want to hold onto you.” She wrapped him in her arms.
“And so ye are. I’m here and you can hold me all ye want, as tight as ye want.” He stroked faster. “Don’t think about the mornin’. Be here with me now.”
“That’s easy to say.” Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. “Not so easy to do.”
“’Tis easy. Look at me, lass.”
“I’m…” She sniffed. “I’m looking.”
“Now feel how I’m lovin’ ye.” He drove deep.
She sucked in a breath.
“You’re safe in this wee cabin, with the cracklin’ fire, my soft plaid beneath and me above, bringin’ ye pleasure.” He willed her to block out everything else.
Then she did. The light in her eyes intensified and her arms tightened around him. The first shudder of her climax rolled over his tadger.
Joy filled his chest nigh to bursting. His rhythm was more purposeful, now. She was with him, arching into each thrust, breathing fast, and…coming…gasping, calling his name over and over.
With one last forceful stroke, he let go. “I love ye, Damaris…” He gulped for air. “I love ye.”
Her gaze locked onto his. Her voice was thick with emotion. “I love you, Rory.”
He lost track of time as he stayed right where he was. If he moved, if he looked away, would he glance back and find love still shining in her eyes?
But he couldn’t hold this position forever. As she’d said…physics. Leaning down, he kissed her gently. “I’ll be back.”
Her eyes snapped wide. “You will? When?”
His heart ached. “From the lavy.”
“Oh.” She swallowed. “Silly me.”
“Not silly.” He brushed his mouth over hers again before he levered himself away and headed for the wee bathroom.
When he returned, she was wrapped in his plaid. It didn’t seem like enough, so he reached to the far side of the bed and pulled the quilt over her. Then he climbed in and tugged the other edge of the quilt over his shoulders and backside.
She smiled and nestled against him. “Are you warm enough?”
“Any warmer and I’d be on fire.”
“Alrighty, then.” She smothered a yawn. “Don’t let me go to sleep. I don’t want to sleep.”
“Neither do I, lass.” He combed his fingers through her silky hair. “Where d’ye keep your brush?”
“In my duffel.” Her eyelids fluttered closed.
“Maybe I’ll fetch it in a bit.”
“Okay.” She opened her eyes for a moment and then closed them again. “So cozy.”
“Mm.” Unless he changed the dynamic she’d be asleep soon. She’d asked him not to let that happen, but what kind of man forced a sleepy woman to stay awake so he could make love to her?
Her breathing slowly evened out. He lay very still, memorizing the arch of her brows, the slight tilt at the tip of her nose, the perfection of her cupid’s bow mouth, the shape of her chin, the curve of her ear.
No moment ever came again. But some were more precious than others. If only this one could last just a wee bit longer.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Damaris woke to an unfamiliar sound—a cell phone tune, but not hers. It ended abruptly and the mattress shifted. Rory.
Oh, God, she’d fallen asleep. She sat up. The fire was out but the lamp was still on. “I’m so sorry.”
“Dunna be sorry.” Leaning over the bed, he cupped her cheek. “Good mornin’.” He kissed her lightly.
“How can it be good?”
“I’m still with ye.” His long strides took him into the bathroom. A second later water hit the shower walls.
Her stomach hurt. Her chest hurt. Everything hurt. Scrambling out of bed, she tangled herself in his plaid and almost fell. Slow down.
Moving carefully, she unwound herself from the soft wool and folded it, making sure the edges were even. She wasn’t so careful with her own clothes. She yanked her shirt over her head and shoved her legs into her jeans.
She was dressed by the time he came out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips and his hands full of toiletries. The seductive aroma of his freshly washed body beckoned.
She forced herself to keep her distance. He had a schedule. “What can I do to help?”
“I’ll grab some clean clothes.” He crossed to his suitcase lying open near the door and tucked his toiletries in a side pocket. “Then if ye could pack the—”
“I will.” She carried his plaid over to the table where she’d left the rest of his outfit. After he’d pulled out what he wanted from his suitcase, she carefully tucked in the items she’d taken off the night before.
Thankfully she wasn’t crying. She didn’t want to get his things wet. Tears might come later, but for now, sorrow weighed on her like a lead x-ray blanket.
She stood. “Done.”
“That should do it, then.” He tucked his shirt into his jeans, fastened the button at the waist, zipped the fly and buckled his belt. “Wish I could be doin’ this in reverse.”
She tried to come up with a sassy reply but his imminent departure had taken the sass right out of her. “I was wishing you were getting dressed so we could head to the barn and feed the horses.”
“Aye. And look in on wee Eclipse.” He held her gaze. “It’s all been…”
“Yep.” She took a deep breath and glanced away. “We should start down there if you want to pull out of here at four-thirty.”
“Right.” He crossed to the suitcase.
While he secured the latches, she opened the door and walked into the cool morning. Still dark. The door clicked shut behind her and she started down the steps, her hands shoved in her jeans pockets.
He caught up with her, his suitcase in one hand and his Stetson in the other. “I was hopin’ we’d have rain last night.” He put on his hat.
“How come?”
“Rain’s nice on a metal roof. But I didn’t miss it.”
“Years ago when I used to sit on the porch and read, sometimes it would rain. I loved that.”
“Will ye be stayin’ here for the rest of the time or go back to the house?”
Her stomach hollowed out. “I don’t know. Why?”
“I’ll be thinkin’ of ye. Would help to know what to picture.”
“Then I’ll stay in the cabin.”
“Good.” He walked to the tiny rental and put his suitcase on the passenger seat. Then he took her hand. “Come ‘round to the driver’s side with me, lass.”
“See if you can stop me.” Her voice was scratchy, like she was getting a cold.
He paused by the left side of the car. “See that? I know exactly what side the steerin’ wheel’s on, now. I’m acclimated.”
“You’ll be all messed up when you get home.”
“That’s a fact.” He sighed, wrapped her in his arms and cradled her head against his chest. “Nothin’ to do with the steerin’ wheel issue.”
She hugged him so tight her arms ached.
“One more kiss.” He lifted her chin, tilted back his hat and lowered his head. When he touched down, he kept the pressure light, his passion restrained.
She re
sponded in kind, letting him know with the gentle movement of her lips that he was cherished. That he was loved.
Slowly he raised his head. His eyes were in shadow, unreadable. He took a breath, as if he might say something. Then he shook his head and released her.
She stepped back so he could open the door. After he did, he touched two fingers to the brim of his hat. Then he took it off, laid it on top of his suitcase and climbed behind the wheel.
As he closed the door, she shoved her hands in her pockets again. He backed out and started down the road without turning on the headlights.
She started after him. Then the headlights flicked on. She stood motionless until she couldn’t see them anymore.
“Damaris?”
She turned.
Kendra came down the porch steps and crossed to the parking area. “Where’s he going at this hour?”
“He’s…” She stopped and cleared her throat. “He’s going home.”
* * *
Thank God for shoveling horse apples. Damaris would have done all of it, both barns, but she got pushback from Kendra, Zane and Cody. When she ran out of stalls to muck out, she saddled Jake and rode her little heart out. She didn’t, however, take the trail to the glen.
Sleeping in the cabin at night, or maybe not sleeping, would be enough of a challenge without adding a ride to the glen. But she’d promised Rory she’d continue to stay there until she left on Saturday.
He’d texted her at his layovers in Chicago and London, then again when he’d landed in Inverness. Since then, nothing. She’d assigned him a special text tone so she wouldn’t jump every time her phone chirped.
And it did chirp. A lot. She texted the news to Mandy because that seemed only fair. Mandy agreed to contact everyone who was coming to coffee to let them know it was still on and hugs would be gladly accepted.
Cyber hugs arrived by text on Tuesday and physical hugs on Wednesday afternoon at Pie in the Sky. No one knew what to say, but then, neither did she. The situation sucked and no ready alternatives were available.
Over coffee Mandy announced that Thursday night’s plans had changed. Kendra had called a meeting of the Whine and Cheese Club at her house and invited the younger generation. Damaris was fine with whatever. Any distraction was welcome.
A Cowboy’s Worth: The McGavin Brothers Page 17
