Notorious in a Kilt

by Anna Durand

  "What is it?" I asked.

  I just said—" She blinked rapidly, giving a small shake of her head. "Never mind."

  Her expression baffled me, and so I thought back on what she'd just said. A realization whispered through me. "You said you believe in me."

  A faint blush tinted her cheeks, and she shifted her focus to the sheets. "I guess I did."

  Hooking a finger under her chin, I encouraged her look at me. "Why does that fash you?"

  "Fash means bother, right?"

  "Yes."

  She took a breath, lifted her chin, and said, "It doesn't fash me. I surprised myself, that's all. Hadn't realized I do believe in you, in the kind of man I know you are. Whatever you might've done in the past doesn't matter anymore. Maybe I would've bed-hopped to drown my pain if I hadn't had other problems to worry about."

  "Do you want to tell me about them?" I couldn't demand she open up to me, not after the way I'd left her.

  She averted her gaze to the sheets again, her fingers picking at the fabric. "I'm not quite ready to share all of that yet. Is that okay?"

  I cradled her face in my palm. "Of course it is. You have no obligation to tell me anything. I shared my story with you because you deserve to know."

  "Thank you for understanding. And for sharing."

  "Your reaction wasn't what I expected." I ran my thumb over her lips. "Your initial reaction was, when you were horrified. After that, you surprised me. Maybe I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I won't reject it."

  "Forgiveness?" She straightened her arm, pushing up into semi-sitting position. "I haven't forgiven you because you've done nothing that needs forgiving. Whatever you did with other women in the past thirteen years is between you and them. It's got nothing to do with you and me."

  "Doesn't it bother you? The way I've treated other women?"

  "Have you forced yourself on women?"

  "Of course not."

  "Did you lie to them to get them in bed? Promise a rosy future? Claim you loved them?"

  I frowned at her. "None of the above. I always made it clear we had no future, it was just sex."

  "The way I see it," she said, laying a hand on my chest, "the only questionable thing you've done is sleeping with women who had husbands, fiances, or boyfriends. Do you still do that?"

  "No." I experienced a twinge of guilt when I spoke the word. I hadn't seduced a woman in those categories for many years, but I had allowed myself to be seduced by a married woman. Should I tell Rae that?

  Not yet. I'd told her about my bad behavior and confessing that bit might ruin what we found tonight, her in this bed. I would share the rest later.

  Hosenscheisser. That's what you are, MacTaggart, a bloody coward.

  "Those women," Rae said, "the ones who had partners. Did you pursue them, or was it a mutual choice?"

  "I didn't pursue them. They wanted me, and I wanted them. Any seduction on my part was brought on by their obvious interest in straying." I glanced down at her hand on my chest, and a pain stabbed me there. Not a real pain, a psychic one. "That's no excuse for my behavior."

  "No, but it's better than if you'd been a lothario who seduced hapless women into cheating on their husbands by whatever means necessary."

  "I wish you wouldn't make excuses for me."

  "Not excuses. I understand your pain because I went through it too." She flexed her fingers on my chest. "What happened to us back then, it was devastating. We handled the trauma in different ways. I won't judge you for the methods you chose, and I hope you won't judge me for mine."

  Just as I wondered what she meant about me not judging her and considered asking what she meant, she let out a big yawn.

  I sat up. "Time for sleep. I've exhausted you with sex and revelations."

  She smiled. "Sex with you is a revelation."

  Her statement stopped me for a moment, and I had no idea how to respond. After all her claims she would never sleep with me, she had. After all her claims she wouldn't care for me, she clearly did. And after everything I'd told her tonight, she still wanted me.

  We crawled under the sheets and fell asleep in each other's arms.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Iain

  We spent the next morning tending to the sheep—or "sheepies," as Rae called them. I'd even found myself calling them sheepies. If my cousins heard me say that, they would've harassed me without end. They knew better than expect I'd be offended or embarrassed, though. I'd gone through too many humiliations during my formative years to take offense at anything my cousins dreamed up to insult me. And harassing each other was a MacTaggart family tradition.

  After lunch, Rae retreated to her office on the second floor of the house to handle business matters. She told me she needed to "submit to the self-inflicted Spanish Inquisition every self-employed person had to endure." I sympathized. When I'd been an archaeologist, I'd spent more time filling out forms and writing grant proposals than I had in the field or in the classroom. When I told Rae this, she had, naturally, leaped on the past-tense formation of my sentence.

  "When you were an archaeologist?" She settled one hand on her cocked hip, fingers tapping. "The other day you said something about not being an archaeologist anymore. What gives?"

  "I was blacklisted."

  Her brows drew together. "You were what? I thought running you out of the country was all the Bremner-Ashtons wanted. All CeCe wanted."

  "Aye, so did I." We were standing near the paddock fence, though the sheep grazed in a pasture further away from the barn. I lodged one boot on the bottom board of the wooden fence and rested my crossed arms on the top board. In the distance, the pale blobs of the sheep herd milled about and the occasional baa drifted on the breeze. Sweat dribbled down my temples, thanks to the hot weather. I lifted my felt hat—my Indiana Jones hat, according to Rae—and swiped the perspiration away before resettling my hat. "I applied to positions at various universities and colleges in the UK. None wanted even an interview. Finally, I applied to a post at the National Museum of Scotland. Someone there was kind enough to let me know why I couldn't find a new position. Whenever I submitted my CV for consideration, the recipient organization would call my last employer."

  Rae made a disgusted noise, joining me at the fence. "And someone from Nackington would inform them of what a sleaze you are."

  "Worse. They labeled me a sexual predator."

  She jerked, and her head swung around. Her blue eyes zeroed in on me. "Are you serious? Those ass—astronomically huge jerks said that? Did you they try to get you arrested?"

  "No, but it had the desired effect." I stared up a the blue sky dotted with small, white clouds. "Whether they believed the claim or not, no one in the academic world would risk hiring me. If the public found out a university or museum had hired a possible predator, there would've been an outcry. Even back then, such things were frowned on."

  "Those f—fat idiots." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Iain."

  "Not your fault. I'm the one who seduced a student."

  "I wanted you to seduce me. Besides, we were both adults."

  "We broke the rules," I said, angling my body toward her. She stared down at the ground inside the paddock. I hooked a finger under her chin and urged her to look at me. "I am the one to blame for all of this. If I'd kept my bloody dokey in my pants, we'd both have gotten what we wanted."

  Rae would have gotten what she wanted, what she deserved—a teaching career. What I'd wanted, only she could have given me. I'd waited too fucking long to try for it and lost everything.

  Her eyes shimmered as if she might cry, and her lower lip quivered faintly. "Do you have any idea what I wanted back then?"

  "To become a university teacher, a professor of English."

  "But did you ever figure out why I wanted that?"

  I shrugged. "Not a mind reader, sunshine."

  She bowed her head, sucking in a breath that lifted her shoulders. Then, she aim
ed those shimmering eyes at me. "I dreamed of becoming a college teacher because that's what you were. All I wanted was you."

  The world around us seemed to tilt for the briefest moment. I clutched at the wooden fence, my foot tumbling off the bottom board to thump onto the ground. Unable to comprehend what she'd said, I mumbled a stupid response. "What do you mean?"

  Her lip still trembled, but she managed to sound annoyed when she said, "What do you think I mean? I was in love with you, and I had a silly romantic fantasy of the two of us becoming this academic power couple. I hadn't planned on becoming a teacher until I met you. I wanted a life with you, but instead of my perfect fantasy, I got a big fat nothing. No job, no degree, no—" She bit down on her lip. "None of my dreams came true. But that's how it goes, right? Dreams get shattered, and we move on."

  She'd moved on. The fact she had a daughter attested to that. I, the arschgeige, had trampled through life without a care for the collateral damage. Never again. I would prove to Rae she could trust me. If she'd loved me once, she might love me again.

  I had been the hammer that shattered her dreams. Whatever the Bremner-Ashtons had done, I made the choice to stay away, to accept it, to let Rae go.

  But I never had let her go. She'd been with me always, a ghost I could never banish no matter what I'd done to erase the memories. It never worked. I would love this woman until I died and even beyond death.

  "I tried to find you," I said. "CeCe answered the apartment phone and told me you went home, but she didn't know where that was. I had no idea of how to find you, and I was preoccupied with other things. I should've tried harder, somehow. I'm sorry."

  She took a deep breath, blinking rapidly. Her eyes cleared, and the vulnerability she'd shown a moment ago disappeared. She leaned one shoulder against the fence, facing me. "It doesn't matter now."

  But it did. Earning her trust required more than saying I was sorry and I regretted leaving. It required reciprocation. She'd shared her dreams from long ago, she'd told me how she lost those dreams, and she'd let me glimpse the pain it had caused her. I needed to offer a similar confession.

  One elbow on the fence, I turned fully toward her. "I mentioned I had reasons for accepting my banishment, even though it wasn't a legal action."

  "It was one family of bullies and all their connections."

  "Aye." A stone had settled in my gut, cold and hard. This would be more difficult than I'd imagined. My gaze shifted to the ground, unconsciously, but I forced myself to meet her eyes. "My father has been in and out of prison all my life. He's what you might call a well-meaning but inept burglar."

  Her brows knit together, and her mouth opened.

  I held up a hand to stay her questions. "Let me explain before you say anything."

  She studied me for a moment, then nodded.

  "When I was lad, we never had money," I began. "Not enough it, at any rate. Anytime things got rough, my da would resort to less-than-legal means to keep his family. He would break into the home of a wealthy person and steal one item of enough value to provide the money he needed, no more than that. I'm not saying he's a saint, but he did what he felt was necessary. My da had been in prison twice by the time I was ten. Ma did everything she could to keep Da in line, but he's a stubborn old fool."

  Rae watched me, silent, her expression unreadable.

  I fidgeted and scratched my neck. "When I was eleven, I took it upon myself to intervene. I couldn't convince Da to stop, so I would approach his…ah…victims. Some I convinced not to file charges. Begged if I had to. Cried sometimes, and it was no act. I was terrified Da would be sentenced to a much longer term in prison because of his repeated offenses. Sometimes, I offered to work off the cost of the stolen item. If I found the stolen item in our house before Da had time to fence it, I would return it to the rightful owner. I managed to keep my father out of prison for twelve years, until I left on my first archaeological excavation. It was in Germany. While I was away, Da got in more trouble and Ma pleaded with the aggrieved parties. I came home as often as I could to help her keep Da in line. It's bloody hard job."

  Rae touched my arm tentatively. "I'm so sorry, Iain. That must've been awful."

  A sigh gusted out of me. "The worst of it is I love my da. He's a good man, except for his one fault. To his mind, desperate times call for larcenous measures. Eventually, I took a job at the a small college in the Highlands to be closer to home, so Ma wouldn't need to look after Da on her own. We kept him out of trouble, and eventually, he stopped burgling the neighbors. I helped with their expenses, but Da found steady work as a carpenter and everything seemed well enough. That's when I accepted a position at Nackington. I needed a break from home life, and spending a year in America with a potential extension of another year sounded perfect."

  I turned my gaze to the ground, unwilling to see pity on her face. I wasn't sharing my life story with her to gain her pity. She needed to understand why I'd abandoned her. I didn't expect forgiveness, but as least she might understand.

  Rae settled a hand on my arm, the one laid atop the fence. "I get why you never told me any of this before, but I'm glad you told me now."

  The tenderness in her voice made me glance up.

  Her smile was soft and gentle, just like her gaze. No pity. Empathy, pure and simple.

  I had more to confess, though, and no idea if she would understand this part of the story.

  "Three weeks after my expulsion," I said, "three weeks after I left you, my da was arrested again. After years of living as a law-abiding citizen, he reverted to his old ways. I'd lost my job, after all, and I was…behaving selfishly at the time. Concerned only with my feelings. At any rate, Da decided we needed more money and so he broke into the home of a Welsh businessman who'd recently moved to Loch Fairbairn, our village. The Welshman had owned mines and whatnot, earned a fortune and bought a fair lot of trinkets to display his wealth. Da stole an item that turned out to be worth far more than he thought. The Welshman was not pleased."

  Rae spread her fingers over my arm, sliding her palm up and down in a soothing gesture. I longed to pull her into my arms and kiss her until we both forgot what I'd been saying.

  Instead, I told her, "Talking to the Welshman didn't help. He was intractable. I asked for my cousin Rory's help. He'd just completed his traineeship, the final step in becoming a solicitor, and he was glad to intervene on Da's behalf. The Welshman would not be assuaged. He filed charges." I shut my eyes briefly, the memory too clear in my mind. "Da was sentenced to eight years in prison."

  Her fingers tensed on my arm, her hand no longer moving.

  "Ma is a strong woman," I said, "but the sentence hit her hard. She went to Perth to visit her sister and ended up staying for two years. I couldn't blame her for wanting to escape. That's what I'd done for most of my adult life. I was no intrepid archaeologist, no globe-trotting adventurer. I had adventures because I was running away from my life." I laid a hand over hers on my arm. "That's what I did with you. I ran away because I couldn't handle it, and because I didn't want to become a criminal like my father. That will never happen again. I will not become like my da, taking the easy way out instead of gritting my teeth and doing what's hard and painful and necessary. I will never abandon you again, Rae."

  For a moment, we stood there together, motionless, her hand beneath mine. She stared at our hands as if she awaiting insight. I waited for her to issue her judgment, feeling a sort of anxiety I hadn't experienced in years, not since I was a lad trying to talk someone out of sending my father to prison again.

  "I understand," she said at last, her focus still on our hands. "I get why you ran away, and I know you mean it when you say you'll never do it again. But I still don't know if I can trust that. It's not all your fault, why I can't trust you. I have trouble trusting anyone, anything."

  "Why?"

  She wriggled her hand out from under mine, hugging herself. "Six months after you left, my father died."

&n
bsp; *****

  Rae

  Listening to Iain's story, I'd at last understood why he behaved the way he did in the aftermath of our one and only night together. I understood, but like I'd told him, I wasn't sure it would make a difference. I had trouble with trusting people, yes, but also trusting life itself.

  "I'm so sorry," Iain said. "What happened to your father?"

  "Aneurysm. No one knew he had it until the thing broke loose and killed him." I rubbed my arms, chilled by the memories. "He was fine. Feeling good. Happy about—well, happy, that's all." Happy to have a grandchild on the way, but I couldn't tell Iain that. "One day, he just collapsed. His sort of froze for a couple seconds, than dropped to the floor. Died instantly. No warning, no reason for it. Why did he get an aneurysm? Nobody knew. It had been a stressful time right after the Nackington sh—stuff. But things had smoothed out, and my parents were talking about buying a place in Texas where we could all raise sheep together. Dad never got the chance to realize that dream."

  My throat constricted, ending my words.

  Iain laid a hand on my shoulder. "Cannae imagine losing my da. It must've been awful, to lose yours so suddenly."

  "Yeah, it was. Mom and I got through it together. She bought this place—" I waved to indicate the ranch around us. "—with Dad's life insurance money. I took care of the sheep, and Mom took care of me."

  She'd taken care of Malina while I ran the ranch. If not for my mother, I could never have afforded to start this ranch, this business that had allowed me to be with my daughter and earn a living.

  "You've achieved so much here," Iain said. "You're quite a woman, Rae."

  I snorted.

  He moved his hand to my nape, his fingers toying with my hair. "What has any of that to do with why you can't trust me?"

  "Don't take this the wrong way," I said, "but you did abandon me. For the longest time, I wondered if I'd been nothing but a fling to you. Then, after Dad died, I felt like horrible things might happen at any moment." My dad's death hadn't been the only reason I felt that way, but I couldn't tell Iain about the rest, about nearly losing our child before she was born. "I lost my sense of security. Took years to get it back, but you showing up took it away again."