by Carrie Elks
After the few days he’d had, she was like a crackling log fire after a cold spell, and he wanted to bask in her.
‘Am I crazy for wanting to keep this place?’ he asked her.
Was it his imagination, or was she leaning closer into his hand? ‘Almost certainly,’ she said, closing her eyes for a moment. ‘But why would that stop you?’
‘It would take a massive investment.’ He ran his thumb across her cheek. It took everything he had not to pull his glove off, to remove the final barrier between them. It was crazy the way she pulled him in every time, he couldn’t escape, even if he wanted to. ‘Renovating this place would be a fool’s errand.’
She turned her head to look at the space where the stag had stood. All that remained were his footprints now. ‘But it isn’t always about money, is it?’ she asked him.
His hand hovered in the air as she moved her head away. Reluctantly he pulled it back, resting it at his side. How was it that he already missed their connection? There was something so addictive about it. Like a drug, he wanted her, but knew she was going to kill him in the end.
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘It was never about the money. But I don’t want to lose money on it, either.’
‘I guess it depends how you look at it,’ she said, staring at the trees where the stag disappeared. ‘People pay money to go on holiday all the time. They come back with nothing but memories. The same goes for hobbies – what one person calls a waste of money, another one thinks of as money well spent.’
‘Are you saying I should keep this place as a hobby?’ Lachlan asked, amused. ‘Do you know how much it costs to run?’
A ray of sun had fought its way through the grey layer of cloud, and she squinted where it hit her face. ‘All I know is that if I owned this place I could never let it go. No matter how much I was going to lose.’
The first time he’d seen her, in that Miami restaurant, he’d thought she was attractive. But standing there in the middle of the Scottish Highlands, surrounded by rocks and water untouched by time, he could see she was so much more than that. Beautiful, captivating, untouchable.
She was temptation, made into a woman. And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out.
14
I that did never weep now melt with woe. That
winter did cut off our springtime so
– Henry VI, Part III
‘So tell me again, you’re in some castle in the middle of nowhere, with Mr Hotty McLaird in the bedroom down the hallway, and you decided you wanted to talk to me. What the hell are you thinking?’ Kitty sounded amused. They were chatting on Skype, so much better than trying to use the non-existent mobile connection. Lucy made a mental note to thank Alistair for the powerful wifi.
‘He’s not a hotty,’ she told her sister. ‘He’s my client.’ She didn’t sound too convincing.
‘Luce, I just Googled him. If he’s not hot, then Adam’s not the best documentary maker in the whole wide world. Which he is, by the way.’
‘How is Adam? Has he started that new project yet?’ Lucy asked.
‘Oh no, don’t you go trying to change the subject; I know you too well.’ Kitty laughed, sounding delighted to finally turn the tables and interrogate her older sister. ‘So come on, spill. Is he as gorgeous in real life as he looks on the computer screen?’
Lucy shivered, pulling the covers up to her chin. Glencarraig may have been the most beautiful place she’d ever seen, but the lodge was absolutely freezing. There was an old iron radiator in the corner of the room, but it had long since given up with its battle against the cold. Every time she exhaled, her breath lingered in front of her in a smoky curtain. Even her goosebumps had goosebumps.
‘Have you been talking to Cesca?’ Lucy asked. ‘Because you sound exactly like her.’
‘Maybe.’
Lucy sighed. ‘He’s easy on the eye,’ she said. ‘If you like that kind of thing.’
‘And he’s rich,’ Kitty said. ‘Not to mention he looks amazing in a tux. Did you see the picture of him at the Met Gala last year?’
‘Kitty, please stop ogling my client,’ Lucy said, letting her head fall back on the headrest. ‘It’s unprofessional.’
‘So what?’ Kitty asked, a smile still in her voice. ‘Professionalism means nothing when it comes to attraction. Look at me and Adam, I was supposed to be working for his brother but I ended up falling for him anyway.’
‘That’s different.’
‘How?’ She sounded genuinely interested.
‘Because you were just nannying for a few weeks. If something happened between me and a client it could put my whole career on the line. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am, and I’m not going to jeopardise it over some guy I’ve just met.’
‘But you are attracted to him, right?’
Lucy pursed her lips together, blowing out a mouthful of air. She watched as it turned to vapour again. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘Maybe a bit. But it doesn’t make any difference.’
‘Oh Luce.’
‘Don’t Luce me.’
‘I’ll Luce you all I want. And if anybody deserves a good Lucing it’s you.’
Lucy laughed. ‘What the heck are you talking about?’
‘Look, this guy, Lachlan. He’s easy on the eye, he’s sexy, and from what you’ve told me you’re wildly attracted to him.’
‘I didn’t say anything about wild.’
‘And he likes you too. Right?’ Kitty prompted.
‘I don’t know —’
‘He flew into Edinburgh and demanded you drop everything to spend the next twenty-four hours with him, when we both know a guy like him doesn’t need to be babysat by you. He’s practically perfect. So why are you sitting alone in your room and talking to me, when you could be ravishing the crusty old laird?’
‘He’s not crusty.’
‘I know.’
‘Or old.’
‘Mm hmm.’
‘And he’s not a laird. Not yet.’
‘But you still want to ravish him, right?’
‘It’s not funny.’ Lucy squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, wanting to block everything out. ‘I’m doing everything I can to be a professional here. Can’t you give me a bit of support?’
‘You can resist all you want,’ Kitty said, ‘but you can’t fight against nature. When the attraction is there, it’s impossible to ignore. Believe me, I know.’
Funny how Kitty had emerged from her shell since she’d met Adam last winter. And now she seemed to think she was the fount of all knowledge when it came to relationships.
‘We’re not savages,’ Lucy pointed out. ‘I’m a grown woman, I’m pretty sure I can control myself.’
‘You keep believing that,’ Kitty said. ‘And next week you can tell me how Santa Claus truly exists, and that the Tooth Fairy is building a palace with all of our molars.’
‘Goodbye, Kitty.’ Lucy pulled the phone away from her ear, and stuck her tongue out at the screen.
Kitty was too busy laughing to reply.
Her room was silent apart from a gurgle every now and then from the all-but-redundant radiator in the corner. Out in the hallway she could hear every creak and groan that an old building had to give, plus a few extra screeches and scratches added in for good measure. She shivered in her bed – more from the cold than from fear – her fleecy button-up pyjamas and sleep socks no match for the cold Highland breeze.
A deep peel of bells from the grandfather clock in the entrance hall echoed through the corridors, telling her with twelve rings that midnight had finally arrived. She turned on her side, curling her body into a ball, willing herself to go to sleep.
Another noise. This time from her phone, charging beside her on the table. She picked it up, scanning the message.
Are you asleep?
So Lachlan was messaging her in the middle of the night. Somehow that felt more dangerous than being close to him.
She decided to cut him off quickly, tapping out a reply
.
Yes
His reply was almost immediate.
Liar
In spite of the frigid temperature, she could feel a fire start to burn inside her. The corner of her lip turned up.
Is there something I can help you with, Mr MacLeish, or do you message all your attorneys in the middle of the night
You type amazingly well for a sleeping person.
The smile finally burst out on her face. Kitty was right, he was hard to ignore.
If I could be asleep, I would. It’s almost impossible to sleep in sub-zero temperatures. Somebody needs to tell Glencarraig spring is supposed to be here.
It’s cold in there? It’s like a goddamn furnace in here.
What?
The next minute her phone was ringing. She didn’t need to glance at the screen to know who it was. ‘Lachlan.’
‘You’re cold?’ he asked, his voice deep and low.
‘Freezing,’ she told him. ‘Even the radiator’s put its coat on.’
He laughed. ‘What about your fire? Is that not keeping you warm?’
‘What fire?’
His laugh got louder.
‘No, I’m serious, what bloody fire?’ She was indignant. ‘I haven’t got a fire. Have you got a fire?’
‘Yes, I have. A big orange one. It’s as hot as Hades in here.’
‘That’s not fair.’ She wanted to pout. ‘Where’s my fire?’
‘I could build you one up,’ he offered. ‘Are there logs in your room?’
‘There’s not even a fireplace.’ She shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her. ‘How come you get the hot room?’
‘I’m practically the laird. I get all the good stuff.’ His tone was enough to tell her he was teasing. Didn’t stop her from wanting to hit him. And kiss him.
Stop that right now.
She huffed. ‘I’m sending a complaint in tomorrow. Right to the top.’
‘They’ll be quaking in their boots, I bet,’ Lachlan said. ‘Pretty much like you are now.’
‘Shut up.’
‘Ah, you’re full of the one-liners tonight.’
‘It’s hard to think of one-liners when your whole body is succumbing to frostbite. Seriously, what kind of place is this? Why would they put me in this room when you have the fire?’
‘You want to swap?’ His offer sounded genuine. For a moment she imagined climbing into his bed. Would it still smell of him? Would she be able to feel where he’d been lying? Would it still hold his warmth?
‘No,’ she managed. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re not fine. You should come in here.’
‘But then you’ll freeze,’ she pointed out. ‘It’s fine, I can take it for one night. And after that all bets are off.’
‘Lucy, just get your butt in here. I’m your client, and that’s an order.’
She hesitated, not sure if she was turned on or appalled by his offer. In the end, good sense won out. ‘Good night, Lachlan. Sleep tight.’ Not waiting for his reply, she ended the call, and for good measure turned her ringer to silent. There was temptation, and then there was temptation. The only way to avoid it was to pretend it didn’t exist.
Banging her phone on the bedside table with a satisfying thump, she lay back in her bed, folding her arms across her chest. She closed her eyes, scrunching them tightly, but it was no good. She was too on edge to sleep. Her mind was too full of him, thoughts punching at her skull like a middleweight determined to win the title.
She huffed, turning on her side, curling her legs up to try to conserve the warmth. But it was only getting colder, the night air stealing into her room through the gaps in the window.
It was like the Arctic in here.
She sat straight up, pulling her fleece pyjama top a little closer around her. Without letting herself think, she swung her feet onto the wooden boards and padded across the room, her footsteps almost inaudible. Within moments she was standing in front of a large oak door, all too aware that on the other side was the man she couldn’t get out of her mind, no matter how hard she tried.
She lifted her hand, curling her fingers into her palm to form a fist. But just as she moved it forward, about to knock on his door, good sense got the better of her.
What the hell was she doing?
She was his attorney, not his lover. She had no place to be standing outside his bedroom, no matter how cold she was. The layer of professionalism she’d worked so hard to cultivate was stretched so thin it was almost broken.
She walked backwards, pulling her fist tightly to her side, then turned and all but ran back to her room, not caring if he heard the footsteps. Her heart was pounding when she climbed back into bed, though it had done nothing to warm her body. The only place that had any heat was the redness on her cheeks.
Her door creaked, and she looked up to see it opening. Lachlan stepped inside, wearing pyjama pants and nothing else. She could see every ridge of muscle in his torso, exposed in the pale glow of her bedside lamp. Dear God, if she’d thought him attractive before, it was nothing compared to this overwhelming desire she was feeling now.
He didn’t say a word. Instead, he walked towards her and lifted the blankets away, scooping her up as if she weighed next to nothing. He cradled her against his bare chest, and she reflexively grasped onto the tops of his arms, afraid she might fall.
He was all hard muscle and supple skin. Not an ounce of fat nestled among the ridges of his deltoids. And he was warm, so so warm. She couldn’t help but press her face against his chest, closing her eyes to inhale him. He turned, carrying her out of the bedroom, his footsteps getting louder as he reached the wooden floor in the hallway. Then he was carrying her into his bedroom, across the carpet and to the four-poster bed on the far side.
He laid her on the mattress, pulling the covers back over her, before climbing in beside her. The bed was tiny for a double. There was no escaping him if she tried.
Her whole body was shivering, as though it had finally realised just what it was missing out on. The fire in the hearth crackled and spat, the orange light glowing on the whitewashed walls. Then he was reaching out for her, pulling her body against his. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly.
The thin layer of professionalism she’d worked so hard to conserve melted into the warm air. She curled into him, closing her eyes. ‘God, I’m so cold,’ she whispered, pressing her face against his chest, her ice-cold flesh meeting his heat.
‘I’m trying to get you warm,’ he told her. ‘The quickest way is body heat. Like in those survival shows on TV.’ He slid his hands beneath her pyjama top, and a series of shivers snaked up and down her spine.
Neither of them spoke as he held her tightly, her skin slowly thawing as his warm flesh pressed against her. Every time she inhaled she could smell him – woody, earthy, unbearably sexy.
Then he started to rub her back in slow, sensuous circles, his palms hot and smooth. She couldn’t help but arch into his touch, her whole body coming alive with each movement, like a frozen landscape melting into spring.
Was it wrong that her hips started to circle in time, pressing against him with each rotation? Was it wrong that her whole body was tingling, her nipples hard and peaked against his skin? If that was wrong, then the heat forming between her thighs was so sinful it didn’t bear thinking about.
She lifted her head to look at him. He was staring down at her with an intensity that shot straight through her. Her lips parted, enough for her to force out the air that wanted to stay captured in her throat. Everything about him was consuming.
He moved his hands down her back, his fingers leaving a trail of fire and ice along her spine. His palms pressed into the dip just above her bottom, sending her nerve endings into a frenzy of activity. His cloth-covered thigh was between hers, causing a delightful friction that made her whole body tingle. She couldn’t concentrate on anything else.
‘Lucy.’ His voice was soft but urgent.
‘Huh?’ Act
ual words were impossible right then.
‘If you keep moving your ass like that I won’t be responsible for what happens. You’re driving me crazy.’
She couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face. Couldn’t help the fact her hips moved again, just to test his will-power. He squeezed his eyes shut, the torture written all over his face. They were both playing with fire now.
‘You want to see me lose control?’ His voice was like gravel. ‘Just keep doing what you’re doing.’