“Not until I know what’s wrong with him. What happened?”
She tapped her foot against the floorboard, going over what happened again and again. “When the branch snapped, it sounded like a tree crashing to the ground. Stormy pulled up, reared, then took off. He caught his back leg on the rock wall. I hope he’s all right. I’m not sure Elliott could handle more bad news.”
Something close to bitterness twisted Doc’s mouth. “Let’s see what the x-rays show.”
She fidgeted in her seat, staring at her tightly laced fingers. She untangled them, placed her hands on her thighs, and sat, stiff and ramrod straight.
They could have flown to California quicker than Doc drove to the northwest side of Lexington. He called the hospital en route, and they were expecting Stormy when the van pulled up in front of the admission office located in the center of the compound. Doc and a staff vet took the horse while Meredith stayed in the waiting room. An hour later, Doc and an older man came out to meet her.
“How is he? Can I see him?” she asked, not waiting for introductions.
“Stormy skinned the lower part of his leg and broke off the top part of the outside sesamoid,” the hospital vet said. “The leg is swollen now. As soon as the swelling goes down, we’ll take more pictures to see if there’s additional damage. I don’t think there is, but we won’t know for sure until we get a better look. We’ll keep him in a stall with his leg bandaged for several days.”
“Does he have permanent damage?” Meredith asked.
The hospital vet hesitated a moment. “If he were racing, I’d recommend retiring him to stud.”
She glanced at her cell phone. “Elliott should know about this, but I can’t tell him.”
“We’ll leave it to Doc.”
“Great,” Doc said. “This time I get to tell him his horse is alive but has a bum leg.”
The vet slapped Doc on the shoulder. “When he’s healed, he’ll need to do only light work for a while, but I doubt he’s ridden much since Kit moved to Scotland.”
“How am I going to explain to Elliott that I hurt Kit’s horse?” Meredith asked.
“From what Doc said, Stormy got away from you.”
“To Elliott, that won’t be an acceptable reason,” Meredith said.
“Stormy had a rough spring and summer,” the vet said. “I don’t know where Kit took him, but they were gone a couple of months. He lost weight, and it took several weeks to get him back in condition. He could have injured the leg while he was gone. We don’t know.”
“Where is he now? Can I see him?”
“We keep our orthopedic patients in Barn Four. You can see him anytime, but check in at admissions, and someone will escort you to his stall.”
A horse whinnied, and Meredith stretched her neck to look down the corridor.
“That’s not Stormy. He’s already been moved to the barn,” the vet said.
“I guess I should call Elliott,” she said.
“Wait just a bit longer. He’ll want the results from the additional x-rays. Matter of fact,” the vet said, “I’ll just bring the results with me tonight and talk to Elliott about Stormy’s condition.”
She scrubbed her face with her hands. Stormy will be okay, and Elliott will be furious.
Peter hustled into the waiting room. “Doc, you just got a call. They need you at the broodmare barn.”
The vet turned to go. “See you tonight at the party unless there’s an emergency here and I can’t get away.”
As Meredith slid into the truck, she checked the time. “Do you pass Midway on the way to the farm?”
“We can go back that way,” Doc said.
“I have a three-thirty appointment at a salon on Winter Street.” It seemed heartless to leave Stormy and go to the spa, but what else could she do? Stormy was in good hands.
Peter put the truck in gear. “I’ll get you there in time, Ms. Montgomery.”
Doc stared out the window, appearing deep in thought. Finally, he roused himself as though coming out of trance and said, “I’ll tell Elliott when I get the blood work later tonight. No point in ruining his evening. I’ll take the heat if he blows up.”
“I thought the hospital vet intended to tell him,” Meredith said.
“It’s my job, not his,” Doc said.
Her stomach churned with an icky feeling, but Doc was right, and she nodded in acquiescence. He wasn’t the only one who would take heat over this. She could bank a bet that Elliott would blame her . . . if not for causing the injury, for keeping silent.
When Doc dropped her off at the spa, he seemed hard-edged, but she chalked it up to the situation.
“Will you ask Jake to send a car for me at four-thirty?” Meredith asked.
“I’ll tell him,” Peter said.
As the truck sped down Winter Street, she stood there watching, trying to pigeonhole Doc’s behavior into a slot marked Concerned Vet, but something didn’t fit. She tried to shake it off. People showed worry and concern in different ways. Look at her. She was all but ignoring the fact that she had breast cancer. She’d let it go for now, and see how the evening played out.
But what if . . .?
Forget the what ifs. If Elliott got angry at her, there wasn’t anything she could do except go home. In the meantime, she’d try to picture her guilt as a thick vapor dissipating into the atmosphere, cleansing her lungs. And as an extra precaution, she’d indulge in a triple-scented layer of the three-butter lotion bar.
Chapter Fifty-Four
MacKlenna Farm – January 1, 2015
ELLIOTT WAS DRESSING for the gala in his suite at the cottage when his phone beeped with a text message. Kevin picked up the device from the bedside table. “It’s Meredith. She’s running late. Will be ready by six-thirty.”
“What the hell has she been doing all day?”
“Yoga with Ted. Horseback riding. Trip to the spa.” Kevin slipped the phone into Elliott’s jacket pocket.
“And she couldn’t find time to get ready?” He didn’t tolerate tardiness in employees, barely tolerated it in his associates, and quit dating a woman if she ever showed up late.
“It’s New Year’s. Cut her some slack.” Kevin stepped into the walk-in closet and found a clothes brush. “She’ll be beautiful and worth the wait.”
“Text her back. Tell her I’m going on to the mansion and will send a car to pick her up at six-thirty. I don’t want her walking over there in a long gown.”
Kevin brushed Elliott’s jacket. “You sure you want to do that?”
Elliott slipped on his jacket before settling into the wheelchair. “If I wait for her, I’ll be late.” He straightened his kilt and sporran. “Where’s Susan?”
“Her night off got bumped,” Kevin said. “She has to work until ten o’clock. She’ll get here when she can.”
David entered the bedroom. “It’s snowing.”
Déjà vu. A similar conversation had taken place a year earlier. But the weather wasn’t the cause of Sean and Mary’s death. “I insist you send a car to pick her up,” Elliott said. “I don’t want her driving out to the farm.”
“She’s got that big four-wheel-ass-drive—”
Elliott pointed his finger at Kevin. “Send a car.” Elliott wheeled out of the bedroom and threw a quick glance at the door to the spiral staircase. “Damn women. Why are they always late?”
“As much time as you’ve spent entertaining her in the last couple of days, you should be in a better mood,” David said.
Kevin laughed. “He’s in a foul mood because he hasn’t . . . well . . . seen her since daybreak.”
“I’m glad you two keep up with my sex life.”
“How can we not, Boss?” Kevin laughed again. “Ah . . .ah . . .ah . . .ah. The sounds are repetitive.” He opened the door to the garage. Then he and David picked up the wheelchair and lowered it down the two steps.
“Don’t let her hear you talk like that. She’d be embarrassed,” Elliott said.
�
�I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about your groaning. You’ve got all but a Rebel yell there at the end.”
Elliott shook his head. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
Kevin slapped his chest. “How am I supposed to come to your aid if I can’t hear you?”
Elliott patted his pocket to be sure he had his New Year’s cigar. “I don’t want you that close anymore.”
Kevin glanced from Elliott to David and back to Elliott. “Damn. This is serious. You’re really into her, aren’t you?”
Elliott remained silent. He didn’t want to admit his feelings to himself, much less to his closest confidants.
David opened the car door. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s written all over your face.” He helped Elliott into the backseat while Kevin stowed the wheelchair in the trunk.
They drove around to the front of the mansion. Battery-operated luminary candles lit the drive, adding a soft glow to the landscape. A light dusting of snow covered footprints and tracks and gave the grounds a fresh, unspoiled appearance.
A dozen college students stayed warm in a valet tent. David pulled into the garage, and several minutes later, he wheeled Elliott into the mansion’s foyer. Holly, poinsettias, and scented candles filled the house with the smells of Christmas. A string quartet entertained in the parlor. Serving staff stood by to check coats and fill drink orders.
“Bring me a whiskey, neat,” Elliott said to the nearest waiter.
Louise flitted into the entryway, bedazzling in a long, flowing purple gown. “There you are. Where’s Meredith?” she asked, kissing him on the cheek.
He pushed up his jacket sleeve to check the time. “She’s now fifteen minutes late.” He missed her, damn it. He should have gone upstairs and checked on her before he left the cottage. They would have had time for a quick go-at-it. His dick hardened. It did that whenever he thought of the scent of her skin, the silky texture of her hair, the pulse beating rapidly in her long neck. Discreetly, he pressed his hand against his sporran, which weighed down his aching discomfort.
Louise squeezed his shoulder. “Allie could only get her a late appointment at the spa. That’s why she’s late.”
Elliott sipped his drink and inspected the decorations and greenery. A directional sign pointed down the twenty-foot wide entrance hall to venues set up in each of the six rooms that spidered off the hallway. “Did you get the mistletoe?”
“A kissing ball is hanging from each doorway, but don’t tell me Elliott Fraser needs help stealing kisses,” she chided him.
“Meredith is not into public displays of affection. I want to be sure at midnight she can’t avoid kissing me.”
“If you’re afraid ye’ won’t be kissed at midnight,” Louise shook her head, rolling her eyes, “this is serious.”
Elliott sipped his drink to contain the grin welling up inside.
Servers came through carrying hors d’oeuvre trays. He sampled the smoked salmon and caviar canapés. “Good. Was this your recommendation?” he asked Louise, patting his mouth with a cocktail napkin.
“I told Jim you wanted caviar. I left it up to him how he served it.”
Elliott ate another one.
A server handed Louise a glass of wine. “You said years ago that if you ever found a woman who loved horses, Scotland, and whiskey as much as you, you’d free up a corner of your life. But I don’t think Meredith is the type of woman who’d settle for a corner.”
He wiped his fingers on the napkin before picking up the drink he’d set on the side cabinet. “I can’t offer her anything more right now.”
Louise raised a dark, wing-shaped eyebrow. “Why not?”
“If we don’t find out who murdered Galahad, we’ll have to pay out the stakeholders, and the board of directors will want someone’s hide. Most likely mine.”
“It’s not your fault.”
He rolled his chair closer to the wall to get out from underfoot. “It’s not a matter of fault. It’s a matter of responsibility.” He currently had the board’s support, but he knew from experience the wind shifted quickly where money was concerned. If the shareholders won a multi-million dollar judgment against the farm, support for Elliott would falter faster than a lame horse in a race.
“You can walk away. Come back to Scotland. This isn’t your home. It’s a job.”
“I owe Sean, and I’ll take care of this place as long as they let me.” The doorbell rang, and the chairman of the board and his wife entered. Elliott nodded.
Louise stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the door. “Ye’ owed Sean for rescuing ye’ thirty years ago. That debt’s been long paid.”
“Damn it. I’m not having this discussion. And that debt extends beyond the grave.”
“No, it doesn’t.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Ye’ can’t spend your life wallowing in guilt over a mistake ye’ made when ye’ were twenty.”
“You don’t know anything about it.”
“The hell I don’t. I’ve just let ye’ believe I didn’t. That woman was looking for trouble, and ye’ obliged her.”
“I ruined her life.”
Louise leaned over and grabbed the chair’s handles, putting her face only inches from his. “Ye’ did not. After yer affair, she and her husband reconciled. The last I heard they had ten grandchildren.”
Elliott held out his empty glass to a passing waiter. “I don’t believe it.”
“Ten, Elliott. While ye’ve been hiding out at MacKlenna Farm, other people have been living full lives.”
He glanced over her shoulder to see another board member entering the house. “Why don’t you go back to whatever you were doing and let me talk to my guests?”
“Ye’ always shut me out when ye’ don’t like what I’m saying.” She set her wine glass on a server’s tray. “Why aren’t ye’ with Meredith? Ye’ planned this evening for her. Now ye’ won’t even be with her when she drives up to the house and sees how you’ve transformed MacKlenna Farm into Edinburgh.”
Through the front door’s sidelights, he spotted the tip of the Ferris wheel. Louise was right, and because of his stubbornness, he’d miss seeing Meredith’s eyes light up. “David.”
David stepped from the parlor, sipping a drink.
“Take me back to the cottage.”
“Did ye’ forget something? I’ll go get it.”
“He sure did, and he needs to get his arse back over there right now,” Louise said.
David rolled the wheelchair toward the garage. Several minutes later, Elliott sat at the foot of the cottage’s staircase, rotating the wheelchair’s wheels up and back, up and back.
The guestroom door creaked open, and Meredith’s heels clicked across the upstairs hardwood floor. Elliott’s breath hitched when she appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing a long, strapless gown made from the Montgomery purple tartan.
If I ever met a woman who loves Scotland . . .
Chapter Fifty-Five
MacKlenna Farm – January 1, 2015
STANDING AT THE top of a long, curved staircase, Meredith smiled. “I thought you’d left me.”
Elliott cleared his throat. “I came back.”
She tossed her fur over her arm, grabbed the dark wood railing, and glided down the steps. His intense gaze deepened as she moved closer to him. God, he takes my breath. The wheelchair didn’t diminish his sex appeal. If anything, his vulnerability increased it. A single dose of Elliot Fraser was hazardous to a woman’s health. A double dose was deadly.
His gaze stayed fixed on her. “I want you right now.” His need added flavor to his raspy voice.
Her wobbly legs carried her to the bottom step without tripping. “Do we have time?”
“No.”
A wild sensory image flashed across her mind. “Maybe we can duck into a coat closet later,” she said, laughing, drinking in his fresh, spicy, woody scent.
“A beautiful woman deserves much more than a large closet,” Elliott said.
He held out his hand. “I want to dance with you tonight.”
“Hard to do in a wheelchair.”
“I’m not strapped in.”
“Maybe you should be.”
Their easy banter couldn’t hide the sexual undertone. It sizzled around them. Sparks glistened like crystals, floating in the air—a truly magical moment.
David entered the foyer from the office, stopped short and smiled. “Ye’ look fetching, Meredith.”
“And you look fetching in your kilt.”
He bowed slightly. “Here, let me help ye’ with that.” He held her fur while she slipped it on.
Elliott glanced at his watch. “It’s six-forty.”
She flicked her hair over her collar. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Allie should have pressed for an earlier appointment.”
“She did. Even invited the owner to the concert, but they couldn’t work me in.”
“I could have done it if she’d asked,” Elliott said.
Meredith patted his shoulder. “You really don’t like to be late, do you?”
David smiled as he wheeled the chair through the foyer.
A few minutes later, they settled into the backseat of the Mercedes. “Close your eyes. I have a surprise,” Elliott said, entwining his arm with hers. “And keep them closed until I tell you to open them.”
She placed her hand over her eyes but separated two fingers.
He frowned. “Hand me the blindfold, David.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay. I promise not to look.” She’d have to grit her teeth to hold steadfast to that promise.
David pulled the car out of the garage. “I’ll go around and pull up the main drive.”
A few minutes later, Elliott tugged on her hand. “Now you can look.”
She gave a long gasp of surprise. “On my, God.” She rolled down the window, and while the car proceeded along the tree-lined drive, she breathed in the sights and sounds and smells. Couples ice-skated on the pond. Others rode in horse drawn carriages.
The Last MacKlenna Page 31