Louise’s B&B – Christmas Eve
EDINBURGH HAD QUIETED by the time David drove back down Princes Street after dinner. The clock ticked toward midnight and another Christmas Day. The Edinburgh Wheel had shut down for the night. With the lights off, the structure loomed in the darkness. Meredith envisioned herself sitting at the top, waiting alone for the wheel to start again. The words to John Lennon’s song Watching the Wheels came to mind. No longer riding on the merry-go-round. I just had to let it go. Her over-booked life left little free time to ponder the passage of weeks and months, and the end of the year always came as a surprise. Determined not to find herself in the same situation next year, she vowed to change her ways. Then and there, she made a resolution that regardless of what happened with her breast, she would approach the coming year differently and get off the merry-go-round.
Good luck with that.
ELLIOTT ESCORTED THE women inside the B&B, and as they had done on the previous evening, Evelyn and Louise said goodnight and retired to their room.
He hung his coat and hat on the hook next to the door, unbuckled his sporran, and left it on the table Louise used for mail and messages for guests. Then, turning to Meredith, he asked, “Would you like a cognac?”
“Hmm.” She weighed a drink in the library against an early morning departure. “What time do I need to be ready to leave in the morning?” It wasn’t being ready that concerned her. Her concern stemmed from fear of being alone with him after champagne, a piece of jewelry, and the tingling sensation inspired by his finger brushing the top of her breast.
“Between seven-thirty and eight o’clock. But that shouldn’t be too early for someone who runs at five-thirty.” The crutches’ rubber tips squeaked against the marble floor as they walked down the hallway. He paused at the turn to go toward the library and waited for her to answer.
“I’ll pass on the cognac. I’m feeling a buzz from the champagne.”
He gave her a breathtakingly warm smile. “Okay.”
She nodded toward the lift. “I’m going on up.” This wasn’t what she wanted to do, but it was what she needed to do. Sitting with him in the cozy library was opening the door to more intimacy. After the boob man comment made at dinner, she was even more self-conscious about her breasts. She needed to discourage him, not the other way around.
He walked with her. “Will you need a wake-up call? I’ll be glad to roll over and tell you good morning.”
Meredith pushed the up arrow, shaking her head. “I bet that line works for you.”
He gave her a mischievous grin. “First time I’ve used it. How am I doing?”
The door opened, and they stepped inside. “I wouldn’t take jewelry from you. I doubt I’ll jump in bed with you either.”
“Ah, hen.” He crossed his hands over his heart. “You dashed a lad’s high hopes.”
Handsome, sexy, and almost irresistible. When he gazed at her with those dark, penetrating eyes, she melted as fast as ice cream on a summer afternoon. She punched the button and the elevator began its slow rise. Her foot made a tapping sound against the hardwood floor. “You’re good at melting a girl’s resistance. I’ve almost fallen for it twice.”
He leaned forward. His mouth only inches from hers. “Third time’s the charm.”
She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, stepped back out of his reach, and punched the button again, again, and then again. The elevator stopped, and the door opened.
“I think the girls have given you the wrong impression of me,” Elliott said.
She chuckled. “I think Evelyn and Louise are spot on when it comes to you.”
He held the door while she exited. “I’m as loving and loyal as a Golden Retriever.”
Meredith cocked her head a bit. “Seriously?”
“Just ask Tate.”
She fished her room key from her purse. “Okay. Who’s Tate?”
“My Golden Retriever.”
She shook her head. “I don’t peg you as owning a Golden. You’re more of a—” She raised her chin in thought. “Pit bull owner.”
“Ah, geez, Mer. Give a guy a break.”
She put the key in the lock, laughing.
“I inherited Tate and a spoiled Maine Coon cat named Tabor a few months ago. And Tabor is twice as big as a pit bull.”
Before she could mention that he was an unlikely cat owner, too, his mouth was over hers. The air crackled between them with sexual energy that engulfed everything in its wake: the hallway, stairs, hell, the entire house. The delicious salty taste of him flavored every breath. The beat of her heart drummed thickly in her ears. She teetered on the tip of her toes, like a top spinning around and around. If he pulled her to the floor or pressed her against the wall, she would surrender. Only a kilt, a knit dress, her silk thong and bra—flimsy pieces of fabric—separated them. The explosive heat couldn’t possibly be hers, but it was, and she burrowed closer, wanting him, needing him in a way she couldn’t believe possible.
Slowly, he slid her dress up her bare legs. Strong fingers massaged her, leaving a trail of tingling sensations along the way. She dug her nails into the back of his jacket. Muscles bunched beneath his jacket. Hard muscles. Muscles that said he was all-male. If the jacket had been flesh, she would have left scratches, a testament to her burst of hunger. The bottom of her dress gathered at her hips, and a sliver of good sense returned.
“This isn’t me, Elliott.”
“Feels like you. Hmm. Tastes like you. Must be you.” His teeth closed on her ear as his hands pulled her closer to his hips, to an erection dangerously free of restraint trousers would have provided.
“That’s not what I meant.” She set her hands on his chest. “For a man right out of surgery—” She glanced down. “—you surprise me with your . . . persistence.”
He gently stroked her face, then outlined her lips with the tip of his finger. “Relax, hen. It’s Christmas.”
She could easily fall under the spell he sprinkled like fairy dust, but she couldn’t. Not while living with a handful of uncertainties. “That’s not easy for me to do.” She kissed him lightly. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”
As she closed the door, she heard him groan; hopefully, he didn’t hear hers.
Chapter Seventeen
Louise’s B&B – Christmas Day
A SHORT, crisp knock burst against Meredith’s guestroom door.
Her eyes popped open. Bright morning sun beamed through the two shuttered guestroom windows. She rolled over, checked the time on the alarm clock—eight o’clock. Plenty of time. Her eyes closed, and she sniffed, smelling the soothing fragrance of the rose in the vase on the bedside table. Elliott. Vivid dreams of him had invaded her sleep. She snuggled into the silky sheets and pulled the thick down coverlet over her head.
Another staccato knock jostled her memory. It’s Christmas morning. She threw back the covers, realizing she had overslept. “Coming.” Elliott must be wondering what happened to her.
A scoop neck cardigan that matched her pajamas lay across the end of the bed. She snatched it up and threw it over her shoulders. Before turning the doorknob, she peeked through the peephole. Elliott. She glanced in the mirror to assess the damage. I look like crap, and he looks like he just left a GQ photo shoot.
She raked her hand through her bed hair, smoothed down her drawstring pajama bottoms, then took a breath and opened the door.
He gave her the rakish grin she’d come to recognize as part of his charm. “Merry Christmas.” Then, his eyes roamed the length of her body. “You look gorgeous fresh out of bed.”
Her own special Santa—showered, shaved, and blind as an old dog. Insomnia and jet lag had kicked in, and she’d worked most of the night. Her eyes were probably red and puffy, and not wearing a bra made her self-conscious. She crossed her arms across her chest, thinking it would draw less attention to her breasts.
“Merry Christmas to you, too. I’m sorry. I overslept.”
“That wouldn’t have happened if you�
�d taken me up on my offer.”
She laughed. “I’ll never fall for a line you’ve worn out on other women.”
“There you go again, making assumptions.”
Lord, help me, please. The morning had just begun and already she was flirting with him. That didn’t bode well for the remainder of the day.
“Step aside,” he said, pushing a food cart with dome covered dishes and a carafe of coffee through her doorway using his body, while his hands gripped the handles of his crutches.
“You are multi-talented,” she said, watching him push the table with his hips.
“I brought you the works—bacon, sausages, fried eggs, scones, haggis and fresh squeezed orange juice.”
“Did you squeeze it yourself?” she teased.
“Louise kicked me out of her kitchen fifteen years ago after I started a fire in the microwave.”
“Hope you’re going to share this with me. I couldn’t possibly eat it all.”
“I’ve already eaten.”
“Then have some coffee.” Meredith took over steering the cart and pushed it toward an elegant low table in front of the fireplace. Upholstered Queen Anne chairs were positioned at both ends of the table. “Pour your cup. I’ll be right back.”
She hurried into the bathroom to brush her hair and teeth and wash her face. Her puffy eyes needed a cold, wet teabag treatment. Maybe later. He’s already seen you. No point standing in the bathroom letting breakfast get cold.
She squirted lotion on her hands, rubbed some on her face. When she returned, Elliott looked up from the newspaper. His smile looked strained. “Ready for coffee? I’ll pour.”
“What’s happening in the world?” she asked.
He folded the paper and handed it to her, pointing to a section at the bottom. “I made the news, rather my horse did.”
Meredith read the article. “My God. Galahad died? He was yours? Oh, Elliott, I’m so sorry. What happened?” She continued reading the press release. “Why didn’t you say something? I feel awful for you.”
“The veterinary diagnostic lab hasn’t issued a preliminary autopsy report yet.”
“The article says he just returned from New South Wales.”
Elliott tapped the side of his coffee mug. “The airplane was rerouted because of the weather, and he was in the air for twenty-eight hours. The trip might have caused his death. At this point, we don’t know.”
She put down the paper. “I saw him win at Santa Anita Park. When he turned the final corner and headed for home, he didn’t look like he had anything left. Then he raised his ears and took off. He won by—what? Five lengths? Fantastic horse. What a heart.”
“Six. That was his last race.”
“He certainly went out a winner. How’d he end up at your farm?”
“The MacKlennas lobbied for him, but damn if Kit didn’t work a deal with the owner’s son. Quite a coup.”
“She’s your goddaughter who lives in the Highlands, right? Are you going to see her?”
He sipped his coffee. “Not this trip.”
“How close is your house to the MacKlenna Estate?”
“Not far.”
“If you want—”
He puffed up his chest and poked his tongue to the back of his teeth, jutting out his jaw. “It’s not my decision. It’s Kit’s, and I doubt that will change.”
She drew back at both his body language and sharp tone of voice, because she had overstepped her bounds and intruded.
He pressed his fingers into his eye sockets and rubbed, shaking his head. “Forgive me. You didn’t deserve that.”
She blinked. Sharp-toned voices were common in her life. Apologies were not. “You have a lot going on. Surgery and now your horse. I’m a good listener if you want to talk.” Now that she knew about the crisis on the farm, she’d definitely keep her own problems to herself. Not that she was likely to tell him about the lump anyway.
He gathered his crutches and stood. “What say we put everything aside for a few hours and celebrate Christmas? David will be here in about forty-five minutes.”
“Jeans, boots, fur, right?”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes, but she understood why, or thought she did.
After he left the room, Meredith sat quietly for a few minutes, musing over the complicated man that had caused tremors of pleasure to sweep through her. She couldn’t analyze it, justify it, or explain it away. It just happened, and for today and maybe tomorrow, she would revel in the warmth of his kisses.
Chapter Eighteen
Fraser House – Christmas Day
MEREDITH STOOD IN the B&B’s foyer waiting for Elliott. She quietly tapped her toe while gazing out the window, enjoying the beauty of the snow-covered park across the street. The fact that she hadn’t experienced many snowy Christmas mornings added to her nervous excitement.
Louise walked out of the dining room carrying a basket. “I packed food for yer trip.”
“Hmm.” Meredith sniffed. “Delicious. Fresh bread?”
“Ham, apples, cheese—”
Elliott hobbled up behind her. “You didn’t need to do that. Alice will have food at the house.”
“How’s she going to manage that? The kitchen’s in shambles and no restaurants will be open.”
“Twinkle her nose like she always does.” He put his arm around Meredith. “You ready?”
Louise looked over Elliott’s shoulder. “Where’s Kevin? Isn’t he going with you?”
“I don’t need him. He went back to bed. You might see him later.”
“Who’s Kevin?” Meredith asked.
“Pish,” Louise said, talking over Meredith. “The lad will be in the kitchen within the hour. He’s feeding a tapeworm.” Louise handed Elliott his cap that had been hanging on a hook by the door. “I expect you to stay warm. You just got out of the hospital.”
He winked at Meredith. “I’ll do my best.” He eased down the steps, then they crossed the cobbled drive together, reaching the open door of the car.
“Who’s Kev—” Meredith asked.
Louise interrupted again. “And if you go by the MacKlenna estate and see Kit—”
“She doesn’t want to see anyone. I don’t like it, but I’ll respect her decision.”
Meredith shivered, although she stood in the flow of warm air pouring out of the heated car. Elliott had used that same tone of voice with her earlier. For the rest of the day, she wouldn’t ask him about anyone else unless he volunteered information first.
“It’s Christmas,” Louise said.
Elliott held up his hand to stop her. “Please, Lou, not today.”
Meredith’s curiosity leapt dangerously close to the edge of good sense. Why didn’t Kit want to see anyone? Obviously, Elliott didn’t intend to discuss her. So Meredith buttoned up the urge to ask him why.
Evelyn walked to the door and stood next to her partner. “When will ye’ be back?”
“Should I leave the door unlocked?” Louise yelled.
“You better. I don’t have a key. We’ll be late. Don’t wait up.”
Meredith climbed into the backseat of the limo, and Elliott scooted in beside her.
“Do you think Lou wishes she were going with us?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” His voice held a high level of exasperation.
David helped Elliott cushion his leg on the opposite bench seat. Once he was settled, David closed the car door and stashed the crutches in the trunk.
“Since I arrived in town, she’s been gnawing a bone about something,” Elliott said.
Meredith leaned forward and glanced out the tinted window. “She’s still standing there.”
Elliott rolled down the window. “Go back inside or you’ll catch a cold.” He rolled up the window. “In twenty years, she’s never fixed food for the road.”
“Speaking of the road, where’re we going?” Meredith asked.
David pulled the car out onto Dundas Street. At eight-thirty on Christmas morning, there was
n’t another car in sight.
“Fraser House is on Loch Ness close to Inverness. The traffic should be light all the way, but it’ll take about three hours. There’s not much to see except forests and fields, but pay attention. I’ll give you a test later.”
“I’d better take notes.”
A sheen of perspiration appeared on his forehead. He wiped his brow without commenting, then shoved the handkerchief into his jacket pocket. “I think you probably have an excellent memory and rarely write anything down.”
“Are you kidding? I’m a compulsive list maker.”
He looked at her with eyebrows arched. “You forget things easily then?”
She retrieved a notepad and pen from her bag. “I take notes so I won’t.”
His lips curled up on the ends in a tight smile as if he were trying to keep the lid on a chuckle.
“Go ahead and laugh. But you never had to deal with my father after you forgot an appointment.”
Elliott wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. “He got after you, did he? Were you afraid of him?”
The old familiar bellyache returned with the memories. “Only of disappointing him.”
“If you had to prove your value to him, he wasn’t worth your effort.”
“He wasn’t that bad really,” she shrugged. “He had expectations. One of them was that if we had an appointment, I was to be there on time.”
“Let me guess—” Elliott rubbed his chin. “You were late to an important meeting.”
The ache of disappointment and rejection whirled through her. “Real important, or it seemed so at seventeen. I was a senior in high school. We scheduled an after-school meeting to discuss my spring trip. I lost track of time and arrived at his office forty-five minutes late. I knew what to expect the moment I saw his secretary’s face. I found a note on his desk that said—” Meredith made air quotes. “Irresponsibility will not be tolerated.”
“He left?” Elliott asked.
She nodded. “He waited a total of fifteen minutes then left town for a two-week tour of Northern Italy wineries.”
“And you didn’t get to go on your trip.”
The Last MacKlenna Page 10