Waiting for the Laird

by Willa Blair

  This week, he turned his attention to the older north wing, explaining the previous owners had probably sealed it off from the new structures because they didn’t need the space and didn’t want to maintain it. Though the Realtor who’d shown the property suggested they should probably knock it down, she looked forward to seeing what surprises it held. Places this old always had something unexpected within a wall or a floor. After what Ian told her, she secretly hoped Cairn Dubh would, too.

  Ian had spent today measuring all the ground floor rooms and seemed unsurprised when they didn’t match up against the outside dimension of the structure, even accounting for the thickness of the walls. He’d explained there might be at least one hidden room—not an unusual occurrence in very old structures.

  “I suspect I’ll be spending more time at Cairn Dubh until I know precisely what I’m dealing with,” he’d said.

  Her body had greeted his news with a spike of heat and longing that still surprised her. Lately, her interest in Ian began to extend beyond the restoration. As though she was coming out of the year-long fog of grief, she started to pay attention to his voice, his mannerisms, his looks. Having those feeling stir for another man made her palms sweat.

  She knew she wasn’t betraying Angus, but on some level, guilt made her want to avoid Ian altogether, though she knew that was impossible. On another level, she wanted to see more of him. Lots more of him. She guessed Ian to be no more than three or four years her senior. He was taller than Angus had been and more muscular. She presumed years of working construction would account for his delicious build. His hair brushed his collar in a lovely shade of warm auburn that glowed with copper streaks when it caught the light.

  Her fingers tingled with the need to touch it. Was it as soft as it looked? She found herself wanting to run them through its thick length. His features were as finely crafted as the work he did, and his amber eyes were often filled with laughter too long missing from Cairn Dubh. The laughter lifted his full lips into a grin or a smile, depending on whether he was talking to his workmen or the twins. Or her. Lips she found herself wanting to touch. And taste. But she had to keep her cool. She hated the clingy widow stereotype and refused to go there. If anything developed between her and Ian, it would have to do so in its own sweet time.

  She sighed and stirred the cocoa again. Not that she’d be doing anything like that any time soon. Angus had been gone less than a year. The week before All Hallows. Damn him for saddling them with that anniversary to remember each October. The twins loved Halloween, which, she realized with a start, was in a couple of weeks. Well, she would have to make sure the twins enjoyed it this year—somehow. The Scots had originated trick-or-treating hundreds of years ago and still celebrated it, though with less enthusiasm—and less sugar—than in her old neighborhood.

  She made a mental note to call home next week. Her parents would worry if they didn’t hear from her on this anniversary. She knew her mother would pester her about finding a new man. She didn’t want to think about men. She might be attracted to Ian, and she had been alone almost a year…but he’d given no indication he might return her interest. Or had he?

  She’d noticed how he smiled at her and watched her as she inspected the work his contractors had done. More than once, she’d noticed his gaze linger. At first, she’d thought he was only interested in her approval, but then he’d lean in close to point out some detail, and she’d find herself drawn to his scent and his heat. He’d never touched her, except to shake her hand, but every once in a while, she got the sense he’d like to.

  Would she like him to touch her? To kiss her? Much to her surprise, she thought she would. She couldn’t decide if it felt too soon, or if these heated stirrings meant she was ready to get on with her life. To meet men. To date. Even to take another man to her bed.

  Maybe once Ian finished the restoration, if she still felt the same, she’d find a way to let him know she welcomed his attention. But not until then. As she took the cocoa off the stove and called the twins, she made her decision.

  Ian had to be off limits for as long as he was on her payroll.

  Chapter Two

  The twin’s laughter drifted in Lara MacLaren’s open bedroom window, clear, bright and given what she’d decided to do today, a welcome counterpoint to her mood. Instead of the clouds that had blanketed this part of Scotland for weeks, this October Saturday was sunny and warm. Alex and Amy had rushed outside as soon as they finished breakfast. She didn’t blame them. It was too nice out to stay inside. Lara could hear them chasing each other through crunching leaves, Amy shrieking and Alex laughing. She leaned out for a moment and watched as Alex tagged Amy, then they took off again, Amy in pursuit of her brother.

  Lara smiled, then turned back to her room. Her task was here. She didn’t know why today of all days she’d decided to tackle going through Angus’s closet, but perhaps the sunshine had something to do with it. She couldn’t have faced sorting through his things on a gloomy day.

  We never even had a chance to say goodbye.

  The thought always made her chest feel like a hollowed-out shell, dry, brittle and ready to shatter into a thousand pieces.

  She entered his walk-in closet and took a breath. The faint scent of Angus’s cologne—and Angus—lingered, nearly bringing tears to her eyes, but she fought them back. She was past tears, and she’d chosen to tackle his closet now because a bright sunny day was not the time for them.

  She ran a hand over the shoulders of his suits, hung neatly and undisturbed for all these months. The newest, an appropriately subtle Harris Tweed, had been his favorite, but he’d left it behind on that trip. In California, he would have roasted in it. Though surely taking it would have crossed his mind. Wearing it, he looked every inch the proper Scottish gentleman. His fascination with his heritage had brought them here, and he would have enjoyed playing the part with the friends and business contacts he’d left behind. A new dress kilt in the MacLaren tartan hung toward the back. He’d never worn it. Only for special occasions he’d said. Like a big anniversary party or wedding.

  I spent our last wedding anniversary without him.

  His silk ties hung neatly on a revolving tie rack. She gave it a spin, then moved on to his built-in drawers. The upper ones were filled with underwear. The lower ones contained sweaters, a few heavy wool for the coldest winter days, but mostly cashmere. She pulled out a lower drawer and fingered a cashmere sweater’s fine, soft texture, deciding to save them all for Alex, along with the kilt. Sweaters never went out of style. Annie might want one or two, as well. She closed that drawer and opened an upper one, then started filling the first box with T-shirts. Someone could use those and Angus’s socks, no matter the time of year.

  For months, though she was grateful Angus left her well off, she would have gladly traded every penny to have him back. Lately, the strength of her yearning for him was beginning to fade, and although she supposed that was another step in the grieving process, it unsettled her. She did not want to forget any part of him: his voice, his touch, the way he doted on the twins. His scent. She held a T-shirt up to her nose and inhaled nothing more than the fragrance of laundry soap. No trace of Angus remained. She tossed the shirt into the box and reached for the rest of the stack.

  After she filled a few boxes, she realized it had gotten quiet. She went to the window to check on the twins. Her heart leapt when she spotted them, side-by-side, unmoving, facing the woods behind the house. They didn’t look frightened. Fascinated, maybe. Awe-struck? What did they see?

  It took Lara a moment to find the big stag in the midst of the undergrowth. The bare trees were probably the only reason she could see him. His antlers looked like branches of the nearby trees. Earlier in the year, he would have been completely hidden by leaves. For a moment, she thought the twins and the stag were in a stare-down. Thank goodness the big buck wasn’t advancing on them. She couldn’t imagine it would hurt them, but since it was rutting season and it used those antlers to fight
other stags, anything was possible.

  The twins turned to each other and whispered something.

  Lara frowned, surprised, when the stag didn’t react to their movement. Then she realized its gaze fastened not on the twins, but on the old north wing of the house.

  Suddenly, it turned and bolted into the woods. She heard it crashing through the undergrowth in its haste to get away.

  The twins calling “Wow!” and “Mom, did you see that?” pulled her attention back to them.

  “I did,” she answered and waved. “Wasn’t he magnificent!”

  “He sure was big,” Alex remarked, then took off toward the woods.

  “Alex, get back here!” Lara called, concerned. “Do not chase that stag into the woods.” When she saw Alex circle back toward the house, she relaxed. “You couldn’t catch him, anyway,” she muttered under her breath.

  Alex rejoined his sister. “I wanted to see where he went.”

  Annie shoved her brother. “That’s dumb. He didn’t care about us,” she taunted, then turned her face up to her mother. “How cool is that?”

  “No, he sure didn’t,” Lara said, mulling over how the stag had appeared and where his attention had seemed to be—on the north wing. What did the stag see or sense in that old structure?

  ****

  Saturday evening, Ian Paterson straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the bar in MacGinty’s pub, swallowed his surprise, and hoisted his whisky to toast his friend. “Sláinte, Blane. May she say yes, and may ye have many happy years together.”

  Blane gestured at the open ring box on the bar with the bottle of single malt whisky in his hand. Before sharing his news and showing off the rock he planned to give his girlfriend, Cassie, he’d poured drinks for the lads he’d invited to the pub this evening.

  “She’d better. I can’t face the idea of taking it back to the jeweler. He’ll laugh his arse off.”

  Ian looked at the friends surrounding them and grinned. “Well, he’ll not be laughing alone.”

  Blane tossed back the dregs in his glass and choked as he tried to join in the chuckles following Ian’s comment. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “What about ye? I hear the widow you’re working for is h-o-t.”

  Ian stiffened, then reminded himself this was Blane’s party, and he didn’t mean anything by his comment. Still, Ian found he couldn’t let it go. “She’s my employer at the moment, and ye ken how important this restoration is to me.” He lifted his glass. “I’ll thank ye to have some respect.” He grinned to soften the rebuke.

  “Does she ken?”

  “What? Nay. And ye lot,” Ian said, giving the rest of the men drinking with them an uncharacteristically forbidding frown, “will not be telling her a thing.”

  “But…”

  “Not a word. She has enough to worry her.”

  “And she has twins,” Thomas interjected.

  “Instant family,” Colin added with a shudder.

  “Quit yer haiverin’. The twins are fine,” Ian informed him, then remembered his intent to keep things light and rolled his eyes. “If I can keep them out of the construction areas, they might survive to reach puberty. I make no guarantees after that.”

  The men laughed and went back to drinking Blane’s whisky. Soon, their conversations amped up the noise level, and Blane leaned closer.

  “We haven’t set a date,” Blane said and lifted his glass. “But when the time comes, milord, I’d be honored if ye’d be my best man.”

  “I’d be honored to stand with you,” Ian answered and clinked his glass against Blane’s, then took the expected sip. “If you can get through the whole thing without calling me that.”

  “Aye, well, and Cassie will be thrilled to have ye as part of our wedding.”

  “You won’t let her make too much—”

  “Nay, of course not. Anyway, she’ll be dying to ken who you’ll bring.”

  Ian leaned against the bar, his thoughts full of twin red-headed hellions and their all-too-attractive mother. He’d been spending more time at Cairn Dubh than strictly necessary, not that he’d admit it to these lads. He should have no trouble focusing on his work on the keep, but Lara MacLaren distracted him. Blonde and willowy, with a musical laugh and a firm, but fair, way with her children, she intruded into his thoughts constantly. He had never let a client become more to him than a paycheck, but he couldn’t stop watching her, or thinking about her. Though he knew he needed to keep his distance, staying away from her and keeping his focus on her house where it belonged was becoming more difficult every day. Yet he dared not let on he’d like to get to know her better, not if he wanted to keep this job. And he did.

  He grimaced and forced his attention back to Blane. He gestured at the ring box, now closed, still sitting on the bar. “When are ye going to ask her?”

  “Tomorrow, after kirk. We’re going to her parents’ for Sunday dinner.”

  “You’re certain they’ll approve?”

  “Aye. I’ve already spoken to her da. It’s all arranged.”

  Ian lifted his glass and tipped it toward Blane in salute. “Good man.”

  “Good enough, I hope.” Blane pocketed the box and added, “She’s…special.”

  Ian shook his head. “You only met her six months ago. How do you know she’s the one?” His question came from simple curiosity, nothing more. Certainly nothing to do with his h-o-t employer.

  Blane shrugged. “I can’t say. It’s not like I knew the first moment I saw her. It took a month or two.”

  “A month or two…” Ian repeated, shaking his head. “For a lifetime commitment.”

  “A month or two,” Blane agreed with a wave of his hand. “Then I knew. Just like you will when the time…and the lass…is right.”

  The vision of a tall lass with red-haired twins appeared before Ian’s eyes. He blinked away the image and finished his whisky with a gulp that burned all the way down. If only it would burn away his fascination with Lara MacLaren.

  Chapter Three

  Lara was sure school-day Monday mornings were the same everywhere. The twins always fussed and fought her every step of the way, from the time she rousted them out of bed before sunrise until she delivered them to school. Today, they settled down some over breakfast, muttering to each other in their unintelligible twin-speak, with only the occasional pronoun—he, in this case—coming through in the clear. Who were they talking about? The stag? Scamp? Ian? She noticed Amy’s gaze kept straying to the hallway leading to the newly opened wing.

  She had no doubt they were plenty interested in the rooms over there. Kids loved to explore. She had, too, at the same age, so it could simply be the draw of a new territory. Still, they’d been warned to keep out until Ian gave the okay. So why all the unintelligible chatter? Were they planning to sneak over there when no one else was around?

  She’d have to get Ian to give her a tour when she returned from dropping off the twins. Not only would she satisfy her curiosity about the rooms in that wing—and the potential dangers to the twins—she’d get to spend some time alone with him. Maybe she would be able to get him to talk about himself a little. He hadn’t revealed anything significant about his personal life in the time he’d been working on Cairn Dubh. Though she shouldn’t, she wanted…needed to know more.

  As she was herding the twins out of the house to the car, Ian and another man arrived, which added another delay while he crouched down to greet the children. He impressed Lara with how he tolerated, with exceedingly good grace, being tugged on and jabbered at in stereo. The twins’ determination to delay their departure didn’t seem to faze him. After a few moments, he stood, Alex in one arm, Amy in the other, their feet dangling at half their height above ground.

  “Behave yerselves,” he told first one, then the other, laying on a thicker-than-usual Scots accent and rolling his r’s. He directed a wink Lara’s way before adding, “And learn everything ye can from your teachers, or I’ll turn ye upside down next time.” To a
chorus of shrieks and laughter, he set them on their feet and gently shoved them toward their mother.

  Lara gave him a grateful smile. She also nodded to his older companion as she ushered her troublemakers away. Before she started the engine, she noticed Ian’s gaze on the car, a wistful expression on his face. What was going through his mind? She was fairly certain he was unmarried and, as far as she knew, childless. Among the many things he’d never mentioned, he never mentioned a wife or a family. And so far, she hadn’t found a plausible reason to ask. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was prying into his personal life. But still, she wished she knew—was he thinking about her or about the twins? Or just admiring the car?

  His companion clapped him on the back and said something that made him turn away. She wrenched her gaze from him and drove off. She had to get her wild imaginings under control. She needed to focus on her job, which didn’t include ogling Ian’s remarkable ass, at least not until she finished driving her children safely to school. Even then, she had no business thinking about Ian in that way. Not until he finished the restoration. Off limits, she reminded herself. Damn it.

  “Are we there yet?” Alex crowed after they’d gone a mile. She laughed because he expected her to, even though thoughts of Ian’s muscled arms and tightly rounded backside still distracted her.

  “Sooner than you’ll like, me laddie-bucko,” she answered in a pirate’s drawl, giving Alex the usual response for a school-day trip.

  At the school, she pulled into the parking lot, or car park as it was called here. The twins were still young enough not to object too much to her goodbye kiss. Then they ran for the front door of the school house, intent on getting out of the snow just beginning to drift down, and fell in with the other kids headed the same way.

  She got back in the car and stared at the swirling flakes, seeing only Ian.

  What did she know about him, really? Damn little was ever said about his background or family by anyone. In town, she only got nods and smiles if she mentioned he was in charge of the restoration at Cairn Dubh. The Scots could be quite close-mouthed when they wanted to.