by Darci Balogh
"I did. I'm from Colorado?" Her voice rose at the end of her statement, making it a question. She wasn't sure he would know about Colorado.
He wrinkled his brow, searching for information in his mind, then asked, "Mountains?"
"Yes, the Rocky Mountains."
"I've heard about skiing in Colorado."
"Yes, we do a lot of that."
"And what did you study at university?"
"Industrial Design," she answered, expecting him to be ignorant on the topic.
"Doesn't that have something to do with teaching?"
She lifted her eyebrows at his knowledge. "Yes, it does. Basically I help professors design online courses for their classes."
"Sounds very smart," he said. Tawnyetta shifted her body a little under his gaze, but he didn't look away. He considered her for a moment before asking, "And you joined your friend on her honeymoon because her wedding came to an abrupt halt?"
"Yes," she answered with a small, forlorn sigh. "Unfortunately Bridget has had a rough time lately."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their spiked tea, warm and comfortable by the fire.
"So you're a helper, too," he said. It was a statement more than a question. When she looked at him his eyes were twinkling. Tawnyetta felt invisible fingers flicking her heart and making it flutter.
She grinned. "Maybe."
For a while they didn't say anything at all, just sat comfortably together and finished their tea. The drumming of the rain on the roof combined with the crackling of the fire to make a particularly pleasant sound. Tawnyetta was warmer now, almost completely dry and wrapped inside her blanket. Michael's body put off its own warmth and it took everything in her to keep from snuggling up against him. She wouldn't mind feeling his arm around her, but that wouldn't be exactly proper, especially considered their state of undress. Still, it was a nice thought.
"It's hard to help people," Michael said, interrupting the pleasant silence.
Tawnyetta wrinkled her brow. "What do you mean?"
Michael started to speak, but had to stop to clear his throat before continuing. "Sometimes I think I could have done more...should have done more."
She looked at him, but he kept his eyes trained on the fire. Something in his tone told her he was trying to convey something important. Intimate.
"Should have done more about what?" She asked, keeping her voice calm and soft.
He glanced at her then back to the fire. She could see his jaw flex as he found the words.
"I should have done more about Greg's drinking. I knew he drank too much." He dropped his gaze into his lap as his shoulders slumped slightly forward. The teacup looked so small in his large hands. He held it gingerly as if it was a fine porcelain cup or a baby bird. "Maybe if I'd said something, or done something, there wouldn't have been an accident."
Tawnyetta's heart filled with sorrow. He looked so sad, so lost. Instinctively she reached out and placed her hand on his forearm.
"You can't blame yourself for something like that," she said.
He turned his head away from her, sniffing loudly and clearing his throat again. When he had regained control, Michael turned back and looked into her eyes with a kind of fascinated confusion.
"It's not your fault," she said with determination.
"How can you know?"
Fair question. How could she know? Why did she feel with such certainty that Michael should not blame himself so harshly? She started to answer, but hesitated. She didn't know how, but she was sure that this kind, strong man would not have purposefully harmed his brother.
"I just know," she said, setting her jaw.
He watched her steadily without answering and she held his gaze, captured in the moment. She wished she could say something more, explain what she felt, but she had no words. She was gripped by his intensity and overwhelmed at this strapping man who had swooped her up in his arms and carried her through the storm without a second thought. Her hand tingled where it still touched his arm, but she didn't move. Couldn't move.
He looked into her, searching for an answer. Loneliness washed across the planes of his face, making her heart feel like glass that was in danger of being shattered in an instant. Then another expression took over, something more carnal. Yearning.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Tawnyetta lifted her other hand, the one that wasn't tethered to his arm, and brushed the back of her fingers across his cheek. She touched him along the line of his beard so that she could feel both the smooth heat of his skin and his soft whiskers.
A jolt of attraction shot through her fingers, through her arm and into her chest before wrapping around her heart and traveling quickly, like liquid, down towards her stomach and below. His eyes sparked. She sucked in her breath. Want, desire, passion, all danced in his eyes as they left hers and traced along her cheek before finally landing on her lips. She felt a tug on her mouth as if he was willing her lips to come to his.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The sound of knocking jolted them both and they jerked away from each other.
"Laird MacBrody!" A man's voice called out as the door flung open.
Tawnyetta fumbled for her blanket, pulling it more tightly around her naked body. Michael stood. A young man, skinny and pale, with a shock of red hair that was sopping wet and sticking out in all directions stood in the doorway.
"Shaun," Michael said.
So this was the real Shaun. Tawnyetta peered around Michael to get a look. Michael checked over his shoulder to make sure she was decent before stepping toward Shaun and others who stood behind him on the small porch. For a second, she read regret in Michael's eyes as he looked at her one last time, then it was gone and he was on to business.
Saved from their troubles, the moment was over.
Chapter Nineteen
With great competence the real Shaun and his companions escorted Tawnyetta and Laird MacBrody down from the hills. The heavy storm had lifted and they no longer moved through pouring rain.
Though thin and pale, Shaun had a deep commanding voice that belied his frail appearance. He moved gracefully between leading the rescue party and following the Laird's wishes of taking special care of Tawnyetta. Shaun treated her as if she was a fine lady being rescued in a fairy tale. She liked him. He hadn't gaped at her and Michael when he walked in on them wearing only blankets and leaning in for a kiss. His eyes had only skimmed over the open bottle of whiskey and quickly averted from her undressed state when Michael stood to block his view. She was thankful he had come with the others to rescue them, if a little put out by their timing.
Soon they arrived in their mostly dry and wrinkled clothes at the castle steps. Tawnyetta was limping and supported by Shaun on one side and Laird MacBrody on the other.
"We found them," Shaun's booming voice called out as they approached the grand steps leading to the main entrance. Staff, guests, and friends spilled out to greet them. Anne made a beeline to Shaun's side while the rest of the staff bustled to assist Michael.
He brushed their attention aside, directing instead, "Make sure Miss Campbell is looked after."
But there was no need for that, for Tawnyetta was surrounded by all five of her friends who hustled her immediately into the kitchen to be hovered over by the cook.
Thomas, his hair still damp from searching for her in the rain, scolded her lightly, "Next time, please tell us exactly where you're going. There's no such thing as reliable cell service here."
"Leave her be," Angie instructed him. She smiled sweetly at Tawnyetta, her deep red ringlets in wild disarray as she placed a cup of hot raspberry tea in front of her. "All's well that ends well."
Sofia's brow was puckered in what seemed to be permanent concern. "You're lucky you didn't fall off a cliff or something."
"Not only that, they said there was some flooding," Thomas added.
Tawnyetta wrapped her hands around the steaming tea and let th
e warmth permeate her fingers. The memory of watching the rising water while huddled under the bridge came back to her, sending a shiver through her body. How close had she been to getting swept down the Highland hills in a flash flood?
"How does your ankle feel?" Luna asked.
"It still hurts, but I think it's going to be fine. It's not broken," she answered.
Bridget swept into the room with an armload of clothes. "I brought you something warm and dry," she said, a little breathless.
Tawnyetta glanced around the large kitchen, confused at where to change in this public space.
"Not here, Tawny," Bridget chided her gently. Then with more excitement, "The Laird doesn't want you climbing all the stairs to our room, so he's assigned you a different room on this floor. At least until you get that ankle looked at."
Something in Bridget's expression made Tawnyetta cringe.
Before long she was settled into her own king size bed in the largest bedroom she had ever seen. Apparently it was the grandest single room in the castle. This bedroom had only one wall made of stone, the outside wall, which was graced with the same floor-to-ceiling cathedral style windows that were in the ballroom. The other walls were the near black, wood common throughout the castle. This would normally make a room appear small, but with the grand height and the massive square footage of this bedroom it did nothing to minimize its magnificence.
"They call this the Queen's room," Bridget informed her as she shook out some of the clothes she had brought down and hung them in the wardrobe. "You should see the view of the garden, it's absolutely gorgeous," she continued.
Tawnyetta had not seen the view. In fact, Tawnyetta had not been allowed to stand up and move from the bed since Shaun and Thomas had helped her in.
"Laird MacBrody's orders," the doctor had told her when he paid her a call just moments after she was settled into the massive bed.
"It's just a twisted ankle," Tawnyetta had argued. "I can put weight on it and everything."
The doctor tsk-tsked and shook his head, peering at her over thick bifocals. "Laird MacBrody and I believe you should stay off your ankle until morning." Tawnyetta let out a frustrated sigh. The doctor, who had wild gray hair that dropped over his bulging forehead gave her a sharp look and lifted his brow in warning. "Unless you want to take a ride to hospital for an x-ray instead?"
"Fine," Tawnyetta agreed, though not happily.
Everyone went to an early dinner since they had skipped lunch searching for Tawnyetta and Laird MacBrody. Bridget stayed back with her friend, curious about the circumstances she'd been discovered in with the handsome Laird.
"He carried you?" Bridget asked in disbelief after Tawnyetta recounted the story for the third time that day. Bridget, especially, found the details of her rescue fascinating.
"Yes," she admitted. Though the more everyone around her fussed about it, the more she felt that they were all overreacting. "But it wasn't that far," she added. "I mean, it felt like a long way from the bridge to the bothy when he was carrying me, but when we came back down it was only about 50 yards, maybe less."
"Still, Bridget said. "That's pretty impressive."
Tawnyetta readjusted her leg where it had been propped up on a stack of pillows. She didn't want to talk about the incident anymore. The whole thing had been blown way out of proportion. Besides, she didn't like everyone making such a big deal out of her mistake.
Bridget, on the other hand, could not seem to let it go. She sat down on the edge of the bed and threw her legs up next to Tawnyetta's propped leg, leaning her head back against the headboard. She took a piece of shortbread off of the silver tea tray that Anne had left earlier and nibbled on it, staring meaningfully at Tawnyetta.
Finally, Tawnyetta couldn't take it anymore. "What?"
"I'm just curious."
"Curious about what?" Tawnyetta could barely disguise her annoyance.
"Exactly how naked were you both? And exactly how did you pass the time?" Bridget giggled.
Before Tawnyetta could finish rolling her eyes there was a knock on the door.
"Miss Campbell?" A man's voice came through the door. A voice Tawnyetta recognized and at the sound of it her heartbeat sped up.
Bridget's eyes flew open. "Is that him?" she whispered.
Tawnyetta tried to act nonchalant. "I don't know, will you answer it for me?"
Bridget got up and smoothed her hair. She hurriedly arranged Tawnyetta's covers as attractively as possible while still allowing her ankle to remain up on the pillows. "I'll be right there," she called out to their visitor. Tawnyetta could tell she was thrilled at the prospect of Michael coming to see them and that realization dulled her own excitement. She swallowed hard and focused on staying calm and cool. All plans went out the window when she saw him step into the room.
He too had changed into dry clothes and his hair was no longer damp. But there was an air of the hills with him still. She could sense it on him. It tickled along the top of her skin and as he looked her over assessing her condition she felt as if the cool wet breeze of the Highlands was moving up and down her body. Her heart started beating wildly the moment he caught her eye. He said something, but she couldn't hear him over the sound of her own blood rushing through her veins. All other noise had disappeared. Amidst Bridget's twittering chatter, Michael made his way to the foot of Tawnyetta's bed.
She blinked. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."
His eyes twinkled at her and the position he took at the end of her bed somehow felt even more intimate than if he had been standing right beside her.
"I asked how you are feeling," he repeated.
"Fine," she said. She followed his gaze as it moved to her ankle. "My ankle is fine. I think I must have just twisted it," she insisted.
"Did the doctor instruct you to stay in bed till morning?"
"He did." She bristled a little bit. First at the insinuation that she wouldn't listen to the doctor. Second at the knowledge that he had co-conspired with the doctor and knew exactly what instructions she had received.
A myriad of thoughts raced through Tawnyetta's mind. Dancing with Michael at the ball. Sneaking around with Bridget and seeing him in his birthday suit...the first time. The moment he lifted her up and carried her out from under the bridge. And, finally, the instant before they were discovered in the bothy when she knew he was about to kiss her. Her cheeks reddened at the memory. The way he was gazing at her from the end of the bed made her feel lightheaded. That stolen moment hung between them still. She could feel it and she was certain he could feel it too.
Bridget ran her fingers along the duvet cover the way she did when she was flirting. She was saying something to Michael, but Tawnyetta was again distracted and did not hear it. She didn't hear his response either, though she could see him smile charmingly at Bridget. Tawnyetta was overwhelmed, conflicted. She must be tired, more tired than she had realized. Her ankle did still hurt and exhaustion might be setting in from her ordeal.
"I'm tired," she blurted out.
Both Bridget and Michael looked at her with curiosity.
"I'll leave you to rest then," Michael said. He smiled at her and his hand reached toward her instinctively, though he pulled it back without touching her or even the covers on the bed. He had wanted to touch her. And she him.
As Bridget closed the door after him, Tawnyetta's stomach sank. Her best friend whirled around, her face bright and excited, happy at the prospect of such an attractive, eligible man in their midst. Tawnyetta didn't have the energy to deal with it right now. She feigned exhaustion. Convinced that her friend needed to sleep, Bridget left soon after.
Tawnyetta drifted into a fitful sleep. She didn't have to think about how her feelings for Michael were betraying her best friend any more that night. But she couldn't ignore it forever. In fact, the whole situation reared its ugly head the next morning at breakfast.
Chapter Twenty
As the sun rose the next morning, Tawnyetta was officially released
from her bed. She joined the others for breakfast. Bridget, Sofia, Angie, Luna, and Thomas were there. As were the entire Prescott clan, including Bea, who was dying to find out about Tawnyetta being found naked and alone with Laird MacBrody.
"I'll tell you later," Tawnyetta promised in a low voice.
She didn't really want to rehash everything that had happened with Michael right now. Besides, she was starving.
The large group of guests were enjoying a buffet style meal in the dining room. Though she had been cleared to walk on her bad leg, she was under strict instructions to take it easy. For that reason Thomas insisted on filling her plate for her. Tawnyetta did not hold back.
"Give me at least one of everything," she instructed him.
"Roger that," Thomas responded as he dutifully loaded her plate.
Mouth watering, Tawnyetta watched him from the other side of the table. Her stomach growled as he approached a platter piled with link sausages, or 'bangers' as they called them here. She had grown used to the heavy, greasy breakfasts at the castle and could almost taste the delicious sausage. She tried to catch Thomas' eye but he was busy maneuvering through the others at the buffet who were all talking and laughing and generally making a great deal of noise.
Worried he was going to skip the sausages, she shouted at him over the din of breakfast chatter, "Thomas, give me a load of bangers."
A hush fell over the busy room while she was still forming the 's' sound in 'bangers'. Tawnyetta froze. All eyes turned to her. Then she realized they weren't looking at her, they were looking past her into the hallway. She was seated with her back to the door and had to turn slowly in her chair to see the object of everyone's rapt attention.
Michael.
He stood in the doorway looking bright eyed and rested. Though this was his castle and he was by all rights the Laird of it, he greeted them with a shy smile.
"Good morning," he said. His deep voice cracked a little as he spoke, like a nervous teenager. A tall, dark and handsome Scotsman who was also humble and a little uncertain about joining their lively breakfast could make any woman's heart flutter. And Tawnyetta's fluttered like mad. "Do you mind if I join you?" he asked.