“I may have come on a bit strong. I hated the implication I wasn’t capable of making my own decisions.”
“Understandable, considering the circumstances. And I might have resented having my authority questioned by a vixen in designer jeans.”
“Vixen?” Her eyebrows arched upward.
“Oh yeah. From the first time I saw you, I thought you were gorgeous and sexy and much too good for me.”
Serena laughed. “You were so far outside what I was looking for, it annoyed me that I found you so attractive.”
“Is that right? You probably shouldn’t have told me that.”
She scooted closer. “And what exactly do you plan on doing about it?”
He shifted her onto his lap and took her mouth with his before she could say another word. But rather than the explosive demand of desire, the long, sensual kiss held the slow burn of both passion and promise. It was impossible to deny his feelings had gone beyond the physical. He wanted all of her—heart, body, and soul—forever.
She leaned back, her eyes half-closed. “You have no idea how much I want to ask you to stay.”
“But . . .”
She sighed. “But I can’t. Or won’t. You already knew that, though.”
“I did.” He kissed her again. “And Kylee’s already put me on notice that she’s watching me. I’d bet she’s waiting up.”
“I hate being a good example.”
“I hate you being a good example too.” He smiled wryly, knowing that wasn’t the real reason he would be leaving her on her back porch tonight. He scooped her up as he stood and set her on her feet again. Instead of saying all the things he wanted to say, all the things he felt but didn’t want her to think were just a way to get her into bed, he kissed her again, slowly and tenderly. “Good night, Serena.”
“Good night, Malcolm.”
Reluctantly he stepped off the porch and left her there, felt her watching him as he cut through her garden and stepped over the low fence that separated the properties.
He loved her. He wanted to marry her. It was time to find a ring.
Serena checked on Max and Em after Malcolm left, then climbed the stairs to her loft bedroom. She had expected to feel wrung out and exhausted after telling her story, but she felt fine. If she had been questioning whether she was ready to move beyond the shadow of her past, tonight had answered that in abundance.
She changed out of her sweater and trousers, pulled on her pajamas, and crawled into bed without removing her makeup. She’d been a breath away from inviting Malcolm to stay, but she knew if she had, she would have regretted it tomorrow. Call her old-fashioned, but until she could trust a man enough to marry him, she couldn’t trust him with her body and soul. It just didn’t stop her from thinking about it. She desperately needed a distraction.
Fortunately there were plenty of other demands crowding her mind. The planning for the hotel’s tour offerings, the grand opening of the gallery to the public, her permanent living arrangements on Skye. The latter she was delaying, partly because she loved her current proximity to Malcolm, and partly because she secretly hoped the next time she went shopping for a house, she’d be doing it with him.
True, they hadn’t discussed it, but everything she sensed from him was moving in that direction. Given all the complications inherent in dating a single mum with two young children, he wouldn’t still be around if he weren’t looking for a long-term commitment.
Her phone chimed beside her and she reached for it. A text message from Malcolm: Miss you already. Hope you’re asleep.
She replied: Not yet. Was Kylee waiting up?
She was. I’m not sure which one of us is the adult here.
Serena laughed aloud, and she was halfway through a reply of I love you before she caught herself and changed it to I miss you. Until tomorrow.
Can’t come soon enough.
She put aside her phone and let out a happy sigh. She loved him, and even if he hadn’t said the words, she was certain the feeling was mutual. He had once told her to lighten up and take things on faith. For the first time in years, she was beginning to believe love might work out for her in the end.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MALCOLM WAS GLAD the hotel guests required little attention for a change, because he could barely keep his mind on his work throughout the rest of the week. The thought of his plans for Saturday made him too nervous to concentrate.
He took Kylee’s car when they reached Fort William, saying only that he needed it for errands while she was at the music studio. She had a double lesson today, both her usual voice instruction and an extra guitar session. She had taken to heart Glenn’s advice to work on her playing technique as diligently as she did her singing.
He drove directly to a little line of shops on the high street, close to the dock where the ferry loaded for the trip across Loch Linnhe, and parked at the curb. A sign painted with neat white letters identified the shop on the end as Ben Nevis Jewelers. He climbed out of the car, and his palms instantly turned clammy. It was the only fine-jewelry store within a hundred miles—not a huge surprise considering Fort William was far more of a tourist destination than a place where someone bought an engagement ring—but his research had revealed that the owner was a legitimate designer.
Malcolm braced himself and opened the door to the clamor of bells. Instantly a middle-aged man with graying hair came from the back. “May I help you?”
“Mr. MacTavish? We spoke earlier this week. I’m Malcolm Blake.”
“Ah yes, Mr. Blake. Do come in.” Mr. MacTavish circled the counter and held out a hand, which Malcolm shook. “You were interested in the design of an engagement ring, were you not?”
Just the words shot a current of uneasiness through Malcolm. He had no idea what Serena would like. The birthday dinner had been the first time he’d ever seen her wear jewelry beyond her tiny gold studs, and he suspected even one of the pair of diamond earrings she’d been wearing was far outside his budget. Was he mad to think she would marry him? And if she did say yes, would she suffer permanent disappointment every time she looked at his ring?
“Sir?” Mr. MacTavish prompted him.
“Sorry. Yes. Engagement ring.”
The jeweler looked him over and chuckled. “Come around the display, and we’ll discuss what you want for your young lady.”
Malcolm followed him back to a small workspace beside a bench stacked with drawers of tools, lights, and magnifying glasses.
Mr. MacTavish gestured for him to take a seat in a wooden chair, then settled himself on a padded stool. “Now, tell me what you’re thinking. Style? Stone? Budget?”
Malcolm found himself telling the jeweler about Serena, how she was classic and unfussy but came from a very wealthy family, so he didn’t want to feel as if he were competing. He’d seen the enormous diamonds that James’s and Ian’s wives wore, both undoubtedly bespoke and approaching the cost of an expensive car or holiday home.
“Have you considered vintage?” Mr. MacTavish asked. “Perhaps a sapphire or ruby? Colored gemstones are back in vogue for engagement rings.”
“She was once an art curator,” Malcolm said. “And she does have an appreciation for antiques.”
“Edwardian or art nouveau, then, perhaps. Clearly she likes something with a bit of story to it. Wait here.”
The jeweler went into the back for a moment, then reappeared with a black-velvet tray containing several rings. He pulled out a simple round diamond in a platinum band and handed it to Malcolm.
“Pretty,” Malcolm said. “But it doesn’t feel like her.”
The next five rings the jeweler showed him didn’t seem right either, though Malcolm didn’t know what he was looking for. Finally MacTavish unlocked a drawer in his workbench and withdrew a tiny plastic bag. He came back to Malcolm and shook the ring into his hand. “I just purchased this from a customer this week. It needs some minor restoration work, but the setting is too beautiful to simply harvest the gem.”
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br /> Malcolm took the ring and held it up to the light. It was beautiful and old-fashioned: white gold with an engraved band and floral setting that cradled a brilliant purple stone. “An amethyst?”
“Oh no. This is a purple sapphire. Very rare, far more so than the blue color. They don’t require heat treatment to bring out their best color, and they naturally change depending on the light. This particular ring is an art deco piece from the thirties. Knife-edge band, you see, with some lovely engraving. It’s missing a prong, and the band is misshapen, but those are relatively minor repairs.”
“It’s perfect.” For a former museum curator who loved the stories behind art, what could be better than an antique ring approaching the century mark? “How much?”
Mr. MacTavish quoted a price that was above what Malcolm had intended to spend but still within reach. He could picture Serena’s expression when she saw it. He hoped at least some of the excitement would be about marrying him.
“If you wish, I can complete the work this week while you consider. If I don’t hear from you by the weekend, I’ll put it on display in the case.”
Malcolm looked at the ring a moment longer and handed it back to the jeweler. “I think that’s more than fair. Thank you, Mr. MacTavish. I would never have thought to consider vintage.”
“My pleasure. Your Serena is going to fall in love with it, I am sure.”
His Serena. He shook Mr. MacTavish’s hand and stood, feeling simultaneously more settled and more nervous now that a decision on a ring had been made.
He puttered around Fort William while he waited for Kylee to finish her lesson, debating on whether or not he should say something to his niece about his intentions. In the end he decided not to. The ring repairs would take time, and he couldn’t take the chance that Kylee might slip. He also wanted to make the moment special, and as of yet, he hadn’t thought of a way to accomplish it.
Still, his anxiety must have shown, because the minute Kylee climbed into the car, she scowled at him. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong with me. Why would you think anything’s wrong?”
“You’re acting really odd. And you keep tapping the steering wheel.”
He stopped abruptly. “Too much caffeine. Sorry.”
Kylee slanted him a look that said she was unconvinced, but he didn’t elaborate. As Malcolm drove, he considered romantic date options for his proposal. The weather was warm, but the stargazing was done for the year. Serena seemed to like the outdoors, so maybe a picnic?
“Something’s up,” Kylee said when he pulled into the drive of their home. “You were much too quiet. Even for you. You and Serena didn’t break up, did you?”
“No! Of course not.”
She frowned. “Okay. Good. ’Cause I like her.”
Malcolm climbed out of the car and followed Kylee into the house. He was already in the kitchen putting the kettle on to heat when he heard a gasp and a squeal from the next room.
“What? What happened?” He rushed out of the kitchen to find Kylee standing in the hall, her phone cradled in her trembling hands. She looked up at him, her eyes glimmering. For a moment he couldn’t tell whether she was happy or upset.
Then she whispered, “I got in. Look.”
She thrust the screen at him, and his heart plummeted as he recognized the Berklee College of Music header across the top of the e-mail. It was indeed an acceptance notice, congratulating Kylee for having been admitted.
“I don’t understand,” he said numbly. “I thought you said it was nearly impossible to be admitted from the wait list. You already committed to Glasgow.”
“I’ll have to withdraw.” She did a little jig in the hallway. “This is incredible. I can’t believe Glenn actually did it.”
“Wait. What? What about Glenn?”
“Glenn works with a producer who is on faculty at Berklee this year,” Kylee said. “He told me he’d send my audition footage and see if his friend would put in a good word for me. I just didn’t think he would.” She frowned. “I told you all this.”
“No, Kylee,” Malcolm said quietly, “you didn’t.”
“Well, I thought I did. This is amazing! But I only have a few more days to accept. I should go log on now—”
“Wait.”
Malcolm’s word stilled her in her tracks. She turned, a sick look on her face that matched the feeling in his gut. “You said if I got in, we could go. You said we’d both move back to America. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“I did say that.” And he’d meant it. But he’d put that possibility aside when she was wait-listed. He’d all but made up his mind to stay in Scotland as soon as Serena entered the picture. “Are you sure this is really what you want? You’re making a very specific decision if you go to Berklee.”
“That’s exactly why I want to go. Why would I waste my time on opera when I could study songwriting and music production? I’ll have the chance to make all sorts of industry connections. Why aren’t you happy about this?”
Malcolm sighed and put his arm around her, gave her a quick squeeze. “I am happy for you, Kylee. Truly I am. I’d just had a completely different plan for how this year was going to go. This is a big decision, moving back to America.”
“You don’t have to go with me, you know. I’m going to be eighteen. I don’t need you watching over me.”
He interrupted her with an upraised hand. “You know that wasn’t the deal. The only reason your parents even considered sending you to uni in America was because I was a few hours away, in the same time zone. You know they would never agree to you going alone.”
“Yeah, well, they’re dead. They don’t get a say.” The bitterness in Kylee’s voice took him aback. She turned wet eyes on him once more, now shining with deep hurt. “You’re not going to let me go, are you? Because of Serena.”
“Kylee, I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. This is so unfair!” She grabbed her rucksack and raced up to her room, slamming the door so hard it shuddered the entire house.
Malcolm pushed his fingers through his hair, grabbing a handful in frustration. In the space of five minutes, his entire life had changed. Their entire life had changed. He’d been ready to propose to Serena and make a home here in Scotland, and now he found himself having to choose between the two people he loved most in the world.
He went back to the kitchen, where the kettle had long since switched off, and poured himself a cup of tea. What was he supposed to do? On one hand, Kylee had her heart set on attending this school, and he’d vowed to do everything necessary to make her dreams come true. There was no doubt she would get a far stronger start to her music career if she lived in America, especially since it seemed she already had a music-producer contact there. It was impossible to quantify the difference influential connections in the industry could make.
Yes, he could allow her to go by herself, but Nicola had adamantly opposed the idea back when Kylee first broached it, until Malcolm had pointed out that it was only an hour’s flight from Baltimore to Boston if Kylee needed him. Didn’t he owe it to Nicola to abide by her wishes for her daughter?
He needed to talk to Serena. This wasn’t a decision Malcolm could make without her. And yet in her mind, they were just dating. He hadn’t yet proposed. He hadn’t even told her he loved her. Would she consider moving after everything she’d said about wanting to raise her kids on Skye, give them the island childhood she’d had? Inverness wasn’t exactly a bustling metropolis, its population topping out at just over sixty thousand, so if she’d felt it was too city-like, there was no way she would approve of America’s East Coast.
He had to think about this first. The minute she saw his face, she would know something was wrong. So he took the coward’s way out. He called her.
“Hey, handsome.” The sultry lilt to her voice made him feel as if he were somehow betraying her.
He forced himself to sound normal. “Hey, yourself, beautiful. How was your
day?”
“Amazing. I cannot wait to show you what I got for the gallery today. And it was a complete random occurrence too. One of those serendipity moments.”
“Oh yeah?” He smiled and sat back in his chair, momentarily brightened by her enthusiasm. He loved that excited timbre to her voice, the gleam in her eyes, and for a moment he regretted he hadn’t gone to see her in person.
“We were at the bakery in Portree having breakfast, and who should walk in but Máire MacLeod?”
“Am I supposed to know who that is?”
“She’s the artist who did the canvas at Davy’s that I pointed out to you. I don’t know her well, but I invited her to join us and told her about the gallery. She only works on commission these days, but she has two talented protégés she would like to see exhibited there. Our next two slots are booked!”
“Wonderful!” he said. “I love how quickly it’s coming together. Maybe we can put together a preview of the upcoming months’ exhibits for the cocktail-party launch.”
“That’s an excellent idea. I can make up a rack card showing the first three exhibits and hand them around at local businesses.”
“Perfect. I’ll put together some ideas. I’m heading to the hotel in a few minutes.”
Serena sighed, but he thought it was a happy sound. “I didn’t realize how much I missed Skye or how good it would feel to work with art again, even if it’s on a much smaller scale. I love being able to champion artists.”
Her enthusiasm drove into his heart like nails, each word a hammer blow pushing them deeper. “I think you should consider exhibiting some of your own work.”
“Oh, I couldn’t. Besides, the point is to showcase talented newcomers, give them a little boost in their careers. I’m neither.”
“You are far more talented than you think,” Malcolm said.
“And you are completely biased.” A scream split the quiet in the background. “That didn’t sound good. I have to go. See you tonight?”
Under Scottish Stars Page 25