by Melissa Blue
“No you weren't.”
Adeline snorted. “Maybe. Let's toilet paper his house.”
Ivy rose from the chair. “I'm going to bed.” She paused. “And don't say I've been sleeping a lot.”
Addy waved that off. “You shower daily. I'm not going to nitpick.”
Her sister got up too and then met her on the other side. Adeline squeezed her in a tight hug. That, finally, made Ivy feel like things would get easier.
Marcus plopped down onto the porch, tired but he knew sleep wouldn't come. He'd gotten so used to Ivy's warmth curled into his. The maids had long since laundered her scent out of his covers.
He scrubbed his hands down his face, because lack of sleep wasn't the problem. Nothing he'd done worked. And worse Ivy's fucking sister was like a dragon at the castle gates. If there was something worse than pathetic, Marcus had hit it.
It was three in the morning, bugs would eat him alive, like they had almost every night but sitting on his porch he could drag in a deep breath and take in the scent of Ivy's roses.
Aye, pathetic.
And because there was no lower he could go, he took out his mobile and cued up their video. How many times was this now? Did it matter? After two weeks he knew all his favorite parts down to the number.
* * *
5:05
“Look at me. Watch what I'm doing to you, love.”
* * *
And Ivy 's hair, a tumbled mess of curls, shaded her face when she looked at him. Why couldn't he have seen what her expression meant then? It wasn't just lust. He'd called her love and he should have fucking meant it.
* * *
13:16
“Tell me what you want.”
* * *
Still the huskiness in her voice ripped through him. The only answer he should have given was, “You, Ivy. Just you.”
He hadn't because he was a daft bastard who deserved to have that constant gnawing in his fucking stomach until it ate him alive.
* * *
26:40
“I want to see your eyes when you come.”
* * *
He pressed paused and just looked at her face. Anyone else would probably see the way he'd wrapped his hand around her throat. She was naked, vulnerable, astride his lap with nothing to fight him off. A violent image without the facts.
But Marcus knew, could see the way she'd touched him gently with both of her hands and gazed down at him with trust in her eyes. They'd connected and it had scared him. Did she not care he could break her heart? That he was broken so deeply he didn't know how to be a good man? Maybe she had known all along and loved him anyway. He tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry.
Lights went out next door. Her bedroom light clicked on. Ivy. He hadn't seen her face-to-face in over a week. Too fucking long. Indecision stilled him for only a minute. He stuffed his mobile in his pocket and went to her.
It wasn't until after he knocked on her bedroom window that Marcus considered the consequences. Her sister could be in her room. Ivy could own a gun. Ivy had a temper and could very well shoot him just because. Nerves rushed adrenaline into his blood and his hands shook.
The curtain was pushed back and a pissed off Ivy glared at him through the window. The thick fabric fell down. Back aside and she opened the window. She leaned against the sill and stuck her head out. A flush darkened her cheeks and her amber eyes lit with anger.
He cupped her face and kissed her before she could tell him to fuck off. She would. He could feel those words bristling off her. To kiss her was wrong. It was pushy. Probably patronizing to think she was bonnie when angry, but she was always bonnie to him no matter how she looked. And today she smelled of jasmine and vanilla. She kneecapped him just by breathing and he loved it.
He dropped his hands and broke the kiss. “I'm a shite. I'm so sorry.”
“Fuck off,” but the words had no heat.
So he grabbed the collar of her shirt and kissed her harder. She kissed him back then growled instead of moaning.
“I've missed you,” he murmured.
“Fuck off.”
“Let me make you dinner tomorrow. Or take you out to dinner. Whatever you want. I'll do it, love.” This time when he said that word he'd meant it.
There was no give in her steeled jawline. “It's not my job to make you feel better because you were a shit to me.”
“No. That's not what...” He sighed and pulled a hand through his hair. “It's just you, Ivy. I miss you. If I could take the words back, my actions back, I'd give my left nut to do it.”
Her expression softened, her shoulders lowered. She opened her mouth to reply and his fucking mobile rang. He could see the walls coming back down. Marcus took out his cell and offered it to her before she could slam the window closed.
“I'll take you out right now,” he said. “You can put that in your dresser, the toilet, I don't care. Just agree to go with me. No work. Just you and me. I promise.”
Wary, she stepped back an inch. “You don't believe in words.”
“But you do. Take my mobile, love, and we'll go wherever you want.”
She didn't take it so he put it on her window sill. It continued to buzz between them.
“If I wanted to go to Scotland?”
She wanted him to take her home. He had no mum to introduce her to. No da. But he had brothers. An uncle who would be chuffed to have another bonnie lassie in his family to dote on. “I know a pub where you can get pissed, probably hit on—definitely hit on. You'll meet my brothers and my manky bastard of an uncle. Castles...kilts.”
Her brows went up and he'd swear a corner of her mouth twitched in a smile. “So what you're saying is I have unlimited bargaining power right now?”
Marcus couldn't help it—he smiled. Fucking shark. “Aye.”
She didn't hesitate to say, “Wear a kilt tomorrow and we'll see how I feel.”
His mobile buzzed again. She picked it up and sighed. Ivy pressed a couple of buttons and finally handed it back. “I'll see you tomorrow.”
He took a step forward to steal another kiss but she slunk back into her room at the speed of light and shut the window. He laughed. She'd probably known he'd try.
None of that mattered. She'd given him a second chance. He wasn't going to fuck it up.
His mobile buzzed again. He checked the name. Do Not Answer Ever. He pushed a few buttons and saw it was his father's number. Marcus had to bite down hard on his lip. He'd been a shite and still she was making sure he was okay.
No. He wasn't going to fuck this up.
Her sister had her phone up as they'd settled in on the front porch. “Are you sure he's coming out right now?”
“His living room light just went off.” Ivy rubbed her hands on her skirt. “Why are you out here?”
“To make sure this isn't a bait and switch with him. If it is I'm getting a bat.”
“Addy,” she said but then laughed. “That doesn't explain why you're recording.”
“He hurt you. I hate him on your behalf, but a Scotsman is about to walk out his front door in a kilt for you. I'm getting that shit on film.”
Since it was the same reason Ivy was sitting on her porch, she didn't tell her sister to get lost. Still, she was reeling from the night before. She'd cried, moped, tossed and turned in her bed and gave up on sleep. And then there he was on the side of the window, his expression so torn between agony and happiness at seeing her. He didn't have to say a single word for her to know, and his apology wasn't just saying what he thought she wanted to hear. Of course she still wanted to hear the words and he had spoken them and so much more.
Adeline sighed, putting her phone down. “I still don't get what he said to you to change your mind.”
“Not what he said, what he did. He gave me his phone. Didn't even look at who called first.” Her sister looked unconvinced. Ivy shrugged. “He once interrupted sex to answer his damn phone. So believe me when I say it's a big deal.”
“Wait. A man
answered his phone instead of...”
“That's exactly what I'm saying.”
“That's...extreme. I admit, but that's enough for you to forgive him?”
Ivy was shaking her head before she answered. “It's enough to give him a chance to prove he's willing—he wants to choose me instead of work, instead of fear.”
She started to say more but Adeline's hands went up, the phone on. Ivy craned her neck but part of the porch blocked her view. She stood and then couldn't breathe.
“Jesus Christ,” she cursed and reached out to hold herself up against the column.
Her sister leaned forward. “Holy shitballs,” Adeline muttered.
Marcus had slicked his hair back as though he was in CEO mode. That left his sharp cheeks, a chiseled jaw and dark blue eyes. His black shirt had the words “Insert Ginger Joke.” The damn thing molded to every muscle and she lost a few more brain cells. The kilt rode low and the way he strutted toward her house let her know he was more than comfortable wearing it. He rounded the outfit off with his scuffed up steel-toed tan boots.
Her sister was probably swooning because he made one hell of a picture walking toward the house, but this was the real Marcus. Not the soulless CEO or the sometime handyman. What you see is what you get—a slick Scottish rogue with a hint of rough edges.
She grabbed hold to the porch's pillar tighter to keep from running to him. Which only became harder when he grinned at her. The skin around his eyes crinkled and his sweet demeanor didn't feel like false advertisement, but a promise.
“You looked dressed for a date,” he said.
She wasn't sure if he was purposely ignoring her sister or if she had become his sole focus. Ivy wanted the latter, ached for it.
“And you take direction well. Nice kilt.” Was she drooling? God, she hoped not.
Marcus handed over his phone to her without a single word. “That's yours until you give it back.”
She pressed a button and could see he'd already turned it off. “Oh,” is all that she could say.
Marcus was very much a CEO and he'd came over to close the deal. But for what? To get her forgiveness? He missed her in bed? Those questions were why she hadn't given in completely. Where the hell did they stand? Where did they want to? Ivy still wanted a home, a husband and babies.
And Marcus?
Adeline cleared her throat and they both looked at her. Her sister put her phone down and stood like she was the big sister, the protective one who would kick his ass if need be.
“Adeline,” he said, offering his hand.
Much to her surprise, Adeline laughed. “I still don't like you, but I've been job searching today.”
“I can make some calls.”
Addy glanced at her before pursing her lips. “I hate job searching, but I'll give it a week and then I'm going to have to get ruthless.”
“Fair. You're smart and I like you even though you hate me.”
Because Ivy knew her sister, she knew how much that charmed Addy. “I guess.” Her sister turned to her and then whispered, “Good luck with that charming bastard.”
A comfortable silence fell after they were alone. He was smiling at her and she couldn't stop looking at him. It felt like meeting him for the first time. Butterflies were fluttering around in her stomach, but she needed to be cautious. Right now maybe he was just elated to see her. In a week, his phone would ring and he'd ignore her for work—drop her like she didn't matter. A million things could change the feeling in this moment and he'd be the man who didn't know just how capable of love he was.
Those thoughts made her drop her gaze and worry at her lip. Her next breath was filled with his expensive cologne, the sun and freshly cut wood. He lifted her chin with his forefinger.
“Don't do that. Look at me, love. I like what I see there.” He lowered his voice and that did wonderful things to her insides.
She would not give. Dammit, she wouldn't until she had proof of his change, that he wanted to change. “And what is it you see?”
“The man you see when you look at me. The one that puts a smile on your face, not the one who hurts you. I trust your judgment. You're smart. You're a shark when you want to be. He must be there and that's who I want to be. Not just for you though. For my brothers, my cousins...my family. For me.”
A lump rose in her throat. “Your words just keep repeating in my head. I wasn't desperate. Never that, but I was lonely. I was.”
“Auch,” he said and then cupped her face. “I can't take that back. I wish I could. So let these words be the ones that echo in your head: I love you, lass. I love you, Ivy Elizabeth Temperance Stewart.”
Her mouth dropped down in shock. She'd expected more apologies or that he'd tell her... She broke the contact. He didn't believe in the words and he was just telling her what he thought she so wanted to hear. “You—”
“You make me believe in the words again,” he finished before she could. “I didn't know I was waiting too, but you're worth every second of loneliness, of anger. I didn't know I could be a man that could love you. And I do, lass. If you give me the chance, I will never taint that again. Let me be yours, love.”
She bit hard into her lip to keep the ugly cry in check. Ivy totally failed. He tutted then pulled her into him, murmuring words of comfort, of love.
“Marcus?” She rubbed her face against his shirt to clean it and he only laughed.
“The things I let you do to me.”
She rested her hand over his heart. It raced. She mattered. So, again, Ivy decided to throw caution to the wind and wear her heart on her sleeve. She pulled back and met his gaze. “I love you, too.”
His brows knitted and his expression was serious. “You swear?” The words came out rough.
She nodded. “Until forever.”
“My lass,” he whispered and nodded back. “Until forever.” It sounded like a promise.
And she knew he'd keep the promise. When he gave her his word, he kept it, always.
He brushed his lips across her brow. “Before you bristle with a million questions...”
She laughed. “I was not.”
“When I say forever, I mean marriage, wee bairns and likely knocking down that ratty fence and linking our houses together.”
“You're not selling your house?”
He shook his head. “That'll give you a decent two to three acres. More than enough for your garden.”
Yeah. She loved him to distraction. “Just to be sure, wee bairns are babies?”
He laughed. “Aye. There are not enough Bairds in the world, love. We must help fix that.”
She lifted her chin and he kissed her without any more nudging. He wasn't perfect, but he was hers.
BIO
Melissa Blue’s writing career started on a typewriter one month after her son was born. This would have been an idyllic situation for a writer if it had been 1985, not 2004. Eventually she upgraded to a computer. She’s still typing away on the same computer, making imaginary people fall in love.
Where to find me online:
http://www.themelissablue.com
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorOfSMR
https://twitter.com/mel_thegreat
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