Notorious in a Kilt

by Anna Durand

  Silence. Only a faint hum in the background of the call indicated she hadn't hung up.

  After a few seconds, Mom said slowly, "You mean the Iain MacTaggart who got my baby knocked up and abandoned her."

  "That's the only Iain MacTaggart I know."

  "Have you been — No, you would've told me if you'd kept in touch with him."

  I growled out a sigh. "Mom, if I'd known where Iain was thirteen years ago, I would've told him I was pregnant. I couldn't find him, you know that."

  "Yes, I know. Of course I do. I'm shocked, that's all."

  "Me too." I stuffed the photo strip into the little album and clapped it shut. "He says he wants to win me back."

  "Have you, um, told him anything about …"

  "Malina? No way. He left me high and dry once already, and I don't know if I can trust him not to do it again."

  "But you're letting him stay in your house."

  "You think you're shocked?" I slapped a palm on my forehead. "He waltzed up the driveway and kissed me. Dressed like Indiana Jones and looking hotter than ever."

  "Hm, yes, I can see how that would knock you off kilter. The man you love suddenly reappearing."

  "Loved, Mom. Loved, past tense."

  My mother clucked her tongue. "Oh Rae, it's not past tense when you describe him as hotter than ever and tell me you let him kiss you. Unless after that you smacked him?"

  "No, I … sort of let him kiss me good night later on." And then I got off to thoughts of him. My mom didn't need to know everything.

  Cheryl Raines laughed at her daughter. Laughed. Loudly.

  "Sweetie," she said in her best motherly tone, "when you let a man kiss you twice, that's not a past-tense emotion."

  I sighed. "Too tired to argue with you."

  As if my body wanted to support my claim, I yawned again.

  "You should rest up," Mom said, "for when you let Iain kiss you good morning."

  "Mom!"

  "Good night, Rae."

  She hung up on me. While chuckling.

  I returned the photo album to the drawer but kept the scarf with me. As I fell asleep with it lumped up and clutched to my chest, I wondered if I'd made a huge mistake inviting Iain into my home. I trusted my child. I trusted my mother.

  But could I, should I, trust Iain MacTaggart?

  Chapter Five

  Iain

  In the morning, I woke early and made my way down to the first floor to retrieve my bag. My sleep had been fitful, plagued by nightmares from the past — the disaster that took me away from Rae, the self-inflicted pain in the year after that, and the lifelong worries I'd never quite shaken. How could I shake them? After thirty-five years of fighting to become a better man than my father, I'd committed far worse transgressions than he ever had. If Rae knew…

  Maybe she didn't need to know.

  I halted at the bottom of the stairs, bag in hand, my gaze wandering to the closed doors in the downstairs hall. Behind one of them, Rae slept. Even a sheep rancher didn't rise before dawn, apparently. I'd peeked out the living-room window, but the barn stood dark in the moonless, predawn blackness. Coming for Rae might've been the most selfish thing I'd ever done. One day, I would need to confess everything to her.

  After I won her. Aye, only then.

  I winced. So much for honesty and integrity. A better man than your father, are ye? Maybe not, and maybe I didn't deserve Rae, but I needed her.

  Up the stairs I marched, one at a time instead of two by two. Why the bloody hell I'd felt compelled to show off for Rae, I couldn't fathom. The look on her face, a mixture of lust and appreciation, had made it worthwhile. I'd need more than displays of physical strength to earn back her trust.

  In the guest bedroom, I dropped my bag on the floor and dug my mobile out of my pocket. Dialing my mother's number, I sat down on the bed. She answered on the fourth ring, her voice as bright and cheery as ever. How my mother could stay cheerful after everything Da had put her through, I couldn't understand. But I admired her fortitude. She might seem a bit flighty at times, but the woman had a lion's heart.

  After the usual pleasantries, I got on with the reason I'd called. "How is Da?"

  "Donnae worry, Iain. Your da is keeping busy. Cousin Aidan hired him to do some carpentry work, and you know how your da loves making things."

  I'd learned everything I knew about carpentry from my father. My fondest memories of my childhood revolved around the workshop behind our house where Da and I would spend rainy days building shelves or cabinets or whatever struck our fancy.

  My worst memories centered on lawyers and courts and backroom deals.

  "So, Da isn't…ah…" I scratched my cheek, grimacing. "He isn't getting up to anything he shouldn't be?"

  "No, love, no. He's behaving." She sighed. "Ye worry too much. Everything's been fine since ye made those discoveries. Your da has no need of getting up to anything anymore."

  Aye, it had been three years since his last…incident, but after a lifetime of Da's escapades, I had trouble accepting he'd retired. As if anyone retired from that sort of thing. I couldn't expect my young cousin, Aidan, to keep my father distracted forever. Aidan had a wife and a baby, with another bairn on the way. Sooner or later, I would have to take over babysitting my father. Again.

  "How are ye liking America?" my mother asked.

  "Texas is different than I expected, but then I'd thought it would look like all those John Wayne movies Da made me watch." I managed a genuine laugh, remembering those evenings throughout my childhood when we ate fish and chips in front of the TV. "His obsession with American westerns led me astray. I was fair devastated to see no desolate canyons or tumbleweeds anywhere in sight."

  "But ye lived in America before."

  "Aye, Ma, but not in Texas. America is a big country."

  She fell silent for a moment, then said, "Your Aunt Sorcha will be here anytime. We're going to see Rory and Emery."

  My other cousin, the second oldest son of my Aunt Sorcha, had a bairn on the way too. His wife, Emery, had seemed about to burst when I last saw them a few days ago. Soon, they would have twins. Lachlan, Sorcha's oldest child, had a bairn on the way too — a sibling for Nicholas, the toddler son of Lachlan and Erica. Even my youngest cousin, Jamie, was up the duff. Her husband, Gavin, fussed over the lass like she'd become an invalid, insisting on doing everything for her. If she reached for a book on a shelf at eye level, he jumped in to get it for her. With Aidan and his wife, Calli, expecting too, I'd begun to feel a bit out of place among my favorite cousins.

  I said goodbye to Ma, asking her to give my best to Rory and Emery, then shoved my mobile in my pocket again. Would Rae and I have children together? She had a daughter already, but the thought of making bairns with her gave me an oddly warm sensation in my chest.

  Jumping ahead again, I was. A bad habit I'd developed since I caught sight of Rae yesterday. Everything I'd felt for her years ago flooded back as strong as ever.

  I glanced down at my clothes, the same things I'd worn yesterday. Sweat-stained, dusty clothing.

  This wouldn't do at all.

  Stripping off my clothes, I rushed downstairs for a quick shower, then hurried back upstairs to dress.

  *****

  Rae

  I woke to the patter of rain. Yawning, stretching, I gradually realized it wasn't rain. The shower was running. My houseguest must've helped himself to the amenities. Well, I couldn't expect him to ask my permission when I was asleep. What time did he get up, anyway? I rolled over to grab my little digital clock and blink until I could comprehend the numbers. Five forty-eight. I always woke up by six, but Iain was already in the shower at five forty-eight.

  Sitting up, I yawned and stretched again. Iain in the shower. Naked. Wet. My mind created vivid images of him slathering suds all over his muscular body.

  An ache started between my thighs. A lovely, slippery ache.

  I pushed up off the bed and w
hipped my nightie off over my head. I didn't own a sexy nightie, just a plain white sleep shirt that resembled an oversize pajama top. What did a sheep rancher need with racy lingerie? Iain's presence in my home, and his current activity in the bathroom, made me curse myself for not buying at least one measly teddy.

  He hadn't seemed to care about my utilitarian wardrobe — or the smear of sheep shit on my jeans.

  Why did I care either way? Had I already decided to sleep with him?

  No. I let him stay out of curiosity. Besides, he'd offered free labor.

  Sure, it was the free help I'd wanted, not the hot body that came with it.

  The shower shut off, and a moment later, footsteps thudded up the stairs.

  How had he dried off and dressed so quickly?

  I rushed to pull on a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, plus socks, then suffered a brief moment of panic when I couldn't recall if I'd put on underwear. I quick peek inside my shirt and jeans assured me I had donned the appropriate undergarments. I hurried into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my hair. Did I own any makeup? Uh, somewhere in the closet, maybe. Giving up that idea, I trotted upstairs to the guest bedroom.

  The door hung wide open.

  I froze in the doorway, incapable of speech or movement thanks to the vision before me. Iain stood completely nude in front of the dresser, his back to me. And my oh my, what a glorious backside the man had. Broad shoulders. Thick, muscles biceps. Taut ass. Thighs that looked strong enough to withstand driving those hips into a woman over and over and over, for hours on end.

  Dammit. Lust-drunk again.

  From my position in the doorway, since I still couldn't muster the willpower to move, I cleared my throat. "Most people shut the door when they get undressed."

  He threw me a sideways glance. "Do they."

  "Yes." I managed to brace my shoulder against the door, needing the support what with Iain's back and ass flexing as he sorted through his bag, which he'd set on the dresser. "And why are you changing clothes? Are you a diva who can't pick an outfit?"

  He paused in selecting his clothes, turning his head to eye me with confusion. Slowly, the confusion melted into that easy smile. "Ahhh, I see. You're assuming I was dressed when I came upstairs after my shower."

  "Wha — You weren't?" More visions assailed me, thanks to my annoyingly active imagination. Iain dashing upstairs in the buff. Water dribbling off his body.

  "I dried off in the bathroom," he said, returning his attention to the duffel bag, "but I was naked when I went downstairs."

  "You traipsed through my house naked? I have a kid, you know."

  "Who is not here at the moment." He half turned toward me, not enough to let me glimpse the part of him I'd seen and experienced long, long ago. He held a shirt in front of him, shielding his groin. "You and I are the only ones in this house."

  "True, but you shouldn't — you can't — " I took a deep breath and struggled to recapture my maturity. This conversation, and the sight of his bare backside, was making me crazy. I gave up and said, "Never mind. Just try not to drip water all over the wood floors."

  He angled away from me again and pulled on a pair of blue jeans. They molded to his ass, and I caught my lip between my teeth as I wondered if the fabric clung to his groin the same way.

  Iain faced me at last, holding a T-shirt in one hand. "Like what you see?"

  As if he didn't know the answer. I was all but drooling.

  What I'd wondered about a minute ago became an undeniable reality. Yep, the jeans molded to his front as snugly as they molded to his back, highlighting the outline of his penis. The more I studied that bulge, the more I longed to know the answer to another question. Did my memories of his nude body, etched into my mind so long ago, exaggerate his endowments?

  "I'm taking that as a yes," he said, a faint smirk tightening his lips.

  "Huh?" I said oh-so-eloquently.

  With one big hand, he cupped his endowments. "You're staring, lass. Why not come over here and feel it for yourself?"

  My God, he'd gotten brazen since the last time I'd known him. Back then, he'd been tender and sensual, so unlike the naughty man standing before me. His old self had seduced me into bed without much effort, though he'd waited ten months to do it. The new Iain…I wasn't at all sure I could hold out for long. He'd gotten hotter than ever, with just enough rough edges to make him irresistible. And that body, oh lord. More muscular, more sculpted, more powerful…

  Designed to drive a woman to the heights of ecstasy and beyond.

  "Speechless, eh?" Iain said with a teasing lilt. "I'll take it as a compliment and a positive sign."

  "You're very sexy, Iain, and I'd love to get naked with you." I took a step back, my shoulder bumping into the doorjamb. "But it's a bad idea."

  "You paused before saying it's a bad idea." He pulled the shirt on over his head, and of course, it molded to every chiseled line of muscle on his torso. "That means you want me. And considering how you were dealing with your desire last night, alone in your bedroom, I don't need to be omniscient to see the truth. We'll be naked. Soon. And I'll be buried inside your luscious body all night long."

  Heat exploded inside me and scorched over my skin like a wildfire consuming the treetops. My sex throbbed, empty and aching for exactly what he'd promised.

  Iain strode to me, took my face in his hands, and hovered his mouth a breath away from mine. "A good-morning kiss?"

  My heart pounded, and I couldn't catch my breath. Would he kiss me deeply this time? I needed him to, needed it so badly.

  Unable to speak, I nodded.

  He pressed his lips to mine, the touch soft and warm. He pressed more firmly, but still he did not take more. I opened my lips, begging for a soul-searing kiss, but instead he took my bottom lip between his teeth and released it little by little.

  Without a word, his expression neutral, he stepped back and leaned against the jamb opposite me.

  Despite his casual posture, the bulge in his pants — much larger and stiffer than a moment ago — assured me our good-morning kiss had affected him too. I'd loved the feel of his big hands on my cheeks, though I ached to feel them on other parts of my body.

  "I'll be in the kitchen," I said, "getting breakfast ready. I hope you like eggs, pancakes, hash browns, and sausage links."

  His lips quirked as he raised his brows. "A large breakfast."

  "We'll need the protein to power us for the day ahead." I hooked my thumbs in the belt loops of my jeans. "Unless you were lying when you said you'd work for your room and board."

  "It was no lie. Whatever you need, I'll do."

  "Good." I pointed one finger at his bare feet. "Might want some socks and shoes."

  He headed for the dresser and picked up a pair of sneakers.

  "Um," I said, gesturing at his shoes, "do you have any boots? I mean something more durable than the hiking boots you had on yesterday. Steel toed would be best."

  "Are yours steel toed?" He eyed my sturdy Muck boots.

  "Yes, they are."

  He dropped the sneakers. "My boots aren't, and I brought only these shoes, the boots I wore yesterday, and another pair of boots that won't be any more appropriate. I wasn't expecting this to be a sheep ranch."

  "That's okay. I'll call Ben and ask him to bring an extra pair of boots for you. You guys are probably the same size."

  "Ben?" Iain's eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, and his jaw tensed. "You have a — boyfriend?"

  I tried to suppress my laugh, which turned it into a wet snort. I must've misread his facial expression, because the Unflappable Iain MacTaggart did not get jealous. Back in college, when everyone realized I was spending a lot of time with the hot Scottish professor, jealous boys had hit on me in hopes of ticking off Iain. The tactic never succeeded. Iain didn't care if they marched right up to me when I was standing beside him and asked me out on a date. Maybe he'd been certain I'd reject the idiots, which I did, but he c
ould've shown a little irritation about it.

  The closest he'd ever gotten to jealousy was when he'd told a particularly persistent young man, "You're interrupting our lunch, laddie."

  Naturally, Iain had spoken those words in a calm and unperturbed tone.

  Iain of the present day shook off whatever it had been and gave me his trademark relaxed smile. "He's not your boyfriend, is he?"

  "No. Ben is my ranch hand. Part-time. I can't afford full-time help."

  Iain's chin lifted a touch. "Good thing I'm here, then."

  Okay, I was confused again. Did he feel the need to outperform Ben in the ranch-duties department? No, that implied jealousy again. I must've been interpreting his actions based on my own desire for him to at long last show some real, raw emotion.

  I shook my head and tromped downstairs with a sock-clad Iain close behind.

  "You're in luck," I said as we reached the bottom of the stairs. "You got here in time for the big event."

  "What event?"

  I slapped his arm. "Deworming day."

  Chapter Six

  Iain

  I clasped my hands over the tip of pitchfork's handle, one foot braced on the metal tines, having stopped in the middle of cleaning out a horse stall. Rae's mare, Sunny, had nuzzled my face for a good minute before she ambled outside to leave me to my task. The smaller horse, Ariel, belonged to Rae's daughter. I still had that stall to clean.

  Gazing out over the stall's half door, through the barn, I could see Rae and her ranch hand engaged in an animated discussion. Rae grinned and touched Ben's arm. He smiled in return, shrugging.

  Rae threw her arms around Ben.

  My spine snapped straight. I squinted at the pair outside, at the way Rae hugged him fiercely and —

  I ground my teeth. She'd just kissed him on the cheek, then finally took her arms off the young, blond Viking.

  Ben hunched his shoulders, his gaze averted, and shambled off in the direction of the paddock beside the barn. Rae and Ben had gathered the sheep into the paddock while I toiled inside the barn. She'd chosen him to assist her but kept me out of sight. Though she claimed Ben was not her boyfriend, I had my doubts.