by Willa Blair
He was just as beautiful as she remembered. Even from a distance she could hear the simpering giggles of the women, their high-pitched, flirtatious coos as they plied him with flattery and praise.
He knew just how to work that group, smiling his professional smile at them, winking his emerald green eyes, flashing his dimples. He posed for pictures with them and signed their DVDs, their posters, and their cleavage.
Ian hadn’t yet achieved the stardom of Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise, but in the few short years he’d been acting, he had attracted a sizeable following of enthusiastic and dedicated fans. To them, he was a god.
He had also been as close to her as a man could possibly be not so very long ago, and now that she had come this far, she might as well finish it. He would want to know.
Grief washed over her as she hesitated at the back of the throng of women, her insides twisted in a knot. How could she say the words out loud to him when she hadn’t been able to say them out loud to anyone else, especially herself?
She couldn’t. After all, it had been she who had rebuffed him four years ago. She’d had good reasons, but given his persistence at the time, he had probably been oblivious to her reasons. He’d probably forgotten her, and if he hadn’t, he certainly wouldn’t want to hear anything she had to say. That’s not true and you know it, Abby. He’s not an ogre! No, I shouldn’t have come here. Disgusted and defeated, she turned to leave, tossing her long braid over her shoulder.
“Abby?”
Her traitorous heart jumped at the sound of his voice, that low, sexy Highlands accent that still turned her insides to a writhing mass of desire. Then her heart sank, because she was caught. There would be no slipping away for her now.
She plastered a smile on her face and slowly turned to him. He had shed his adoring fans, leaving them to compare photos on their digital cameras, and was standing not two feet from her, his green eyes wide with surprise. His scent invaded her nostrils—that subtle yet intoxicating cologne that always made her want to bury her face in his throat and breathe him in. Every now and then, back in New York, she had caught a whiff of that cologne, and her heart would pound in anticipation. But then she’d realize that the scent wasn’t quite right; it was missing the essence of him, the faint mixture of horses and leather that he could never quite get rid of, and her shoulders would slump with disappointment.
“Ian, it’s nice to see you,” she murmured, hoping her voice was steady as she clasped her shaking hands behind her back.
“What are you doing here?” His face was a mask of polite reservation, only his eyes betraying any hint of emotion. In those bottomless green depths, she saw hurt, anger, and something else she couldn’t quite identify.
Why did he have to stare at her like he was reading her mind, like he could see into her very soul? How could she possibly think or speak coherently when he was doing that? With those laser eyes boring into hers, she felt like a small child who had just spilled chocolate syrup on the white couch. I shouldn’t have come here. Is it too late to turn and run?
“I…was passing by and saw the sign for the fundraiser.” Even though it was true, it sounded lame even to her.
“You were ‘passing by’?” If anything, his expression became more remote, if not downright frosty. “After four years, you just happened to be passing by Urquhart Castle?” he asked, not bothering to disguise the bitterness in his voice. “Why are you really here?”
Though he kept his voice low so as not to attract attention, there was no mistaking his tone—she was not welcome here.
“I just thought…never mind,” she stammered as tears welled in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’m glad to see that you’re doing well and supporting a good cause.” She turned to leave, feeling her heart splintering into tiny little shards.
His hand closed around her arm, effectively stopping her in her tracks. She felt the heat of each of his fingers searing into her skin, his hold firm yet gentle.
“You came all the way here and paid good money for the privilege of seeing me,” he murmured. “You might as well have something to eat. You look…very thin,” he added, his voice gentling slightly. “Are you all right?”
His anger she could deal with; his concern she could not. “I’m fine. I have to go now. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” She tried to extricate herself from his hold on her, but he wouldn’t let go. “Ian, please. I have to go.”
He stared at her, his eyes holding her in thrall.
“Hey, Ian! You’ve a bunch of fans here who want to say hello to you!” The shout came from a small man in a shiny suit standing a few feet away.
Abby took advantage of his momentary distraction to pull her arm free. “Goodbye, Ian,” she whispered and fled before he could reply. Before he could convince her to stay.
****
Ian stood frozen in place as Abby walked away from him. When he’d spotted her in his peripheral vision, he’d thought it was his imagination again. In the four years since he’d last laid eyes on her, there had been so many moments when he’d thought he’d seen her, had run over to greet her, only to be disappointed when it wasn’t her. She haunted his dreams nearly every night, even after all this time. Whenever he woke up from one of those dreams with his body burning for her, his heart yearning for her, he’d reach for her, only to realize she wasn’t lying beside him. He still felt her loss as profoundly as he had back then.
When he’d realized she was actually there, in the flesh, his heart had stopped for a moment, and then began thundering as if it was about to explode out of his chest. So many different emotions had gone through him as they’d faced each other: anger that she’d kicked him out of her life without a word; hurt that she had chosen to pop back into his life at this public event, where he could neither speak to her privately nor follow after her; curiosity at why she had come back after all this time. But most of all, he’d felt joy at seeing her again.
Gazing into her blue-gray eyes, the color of the sea after a storm, had stirred something within him that he hadn’t felt in years. He’d had to clench his fingers in his plaid to keep them from reaching to unwind her thick braid and sink his hands into her waist-length, caramel-colored hair. He wanted to take her in his arms and never let her go.
But instead of doing that, he’d treated her like crap. He wanted to kick himself for being so cold to her. Though she’d hurt him terribly when she’d blown him off without a word four years ago, he should have seen that something wasn’t right with her. Her face was so pale, and that look in her eyes—she looked devastated. He couldn’t let her leave like that. He started to follow her.
“Ian, where you running off to, lad?”
His agent, Brian, sounded insistent, and Ian turned around. “I’m sorry, Brian. I know that woman. I have to go after her.”
“You’ll do no such thing, Ian,” Brian hissed. “A lot of people paid good money for a few minutes of your time. If you go running off after some scruffy lass and leave these women standing here, it will be a media disaster.”
Scruffy lass? Ian took a threatening step toward his agent, whom he dwarfed by half a foot and at least fifty pounds. The other man’s eyes widened and he glanced frantically to his left. Ian followed the direction of his gaze and saw a group of women and children standing off to the side. The women were smiling nervously, and the children were beaming with excitement, posters clutched in their hands.
As much as he wanted—needed—to go after Abby, he couldn’t. Too many people were depending on him, at least for the next hour.
“That scruffy lass is classier in denim and fleece than most of these women are in Versace,” he said through clenched teeth. “Aye, you’re right, Brian. I can’t leave just yet. But you will not insult Abby again. Do you understand?”
Without waiting for a reply, he mustered up a smile and strode over to greet his fans.
****
After fleeing from Ian like the coward she was, Abby sat on a boulder on the opposite side of L
och Ness, staring across the water at Urquhart Castle. This had been her original destination before she’d spotted the sign along the roadside and made a tremendously stupid error in judgment.
Abby had come to this place hoping to recapture the peace she’d found here four years ago. The eastern shore of the loch, where she now sat, was the quiet side, for the most part undisturbed by tourists. They preferred the western shore, where they could explore the ruins of the castle, or go a bit farther up the road to the village of Drumnadrochit and spend their hard-earned money on Nessie knick-knacks in one of the many gift shops there.
She remembered the first time Ian had taken her here. They were on spring break from the University of Edinburgh, where she was spending a semester abroad and he was a graduate student. It was too far for her to go home for the week, and Ian had brought her home with him to his family’s house in Nairn, a town just east of Inverness along the Moray Firth.
He’d taken her horseback riding along the quiet shoreline of the loch, and Abby had remarked at the utter peace of the place. There was something about the dark, mysterious water and the ruined castle that spoke to her soul. They’d stayed there for hours, the horses grazing a short distance away as she and Ian picnicked under the sheltering arms of an old oak tree.
Her face flushed with heat as she remembered what else had happened under that tree.
As she finished packing the remains of their lunch in the last saddlebag, Ian’s arms came around her from behind. His breath tickled her ear.
“We forgot to have dessert,” he breathed, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine.
“You had half a dozen of your mother’s brownies. Don’t tell me you’re still hungry!”
“I wasn’t talkin’ about food, lass.” His husky voice sent a rush of liquid warmth through her.
She turned eagerly in his arms and he kissed her until she was breathless. Their hands explored each other, stroking and caressing. Ian freed Abby’s hair from its plait, unraveling the strands with one hand while the other tipped her head back so he could kiss her throat.
He dragged her down to the blanket, their clothing pushed aside by urgent hands. He gazed down at her naked body, the reverent look in his eyes making her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
“I love you, Abby,” he murmured as his lips met hers.
“I love you, too,” she replied, her heart full of joy.
They didn’t speak again for a very long time.
Abby looked down at her clenched hands. Her pulse was pounding, her body aching for his touch, but the memory of it was too much for her to bear. They had been so happy then, so carefree. All she’d wanted was to be with him. That afternoon by the loch, they’d spoken of the future, of a traditional Highland wedding after she finished college the following year. Her parents and brother would fly over, along with a few of her friends from home. The men would wear kilts and the women would be in old-fashioned dresses. They would have a feast at the Mackenzie farm afterwards, and then she and Ian would go on an extended honeymoon, maybe someplace tropical.
But it was all a cruel joke. His career had proven to be more important to him than she was, than their future together. And just when she had finally begun to get over him, to think about trying to meet someone new, her world had shattered.
She’d come to Scotland searching for peace, and all she’d done so far was remind herself of all that had gone wrong in her life. She felt like the embodiment of the castle ruin across the loch, a cold, empty shell of her former self. Although it was a sunny and warm summer afternoon, she felt chilled to her very bones. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself, staring listlessly out at the water, wishing she could go back to that other summer.
A shadow fell over her, and she looked up, startled, to see the tall figure of a man standing just to her right. He was backlit, his features indistinct against the sun in her eyes.
But she would know him anywhere.
“Ian?” She hated the way her voice quavered as she breathed his name. She was shocked that he’d come after her after the way they’d left things.
He took a hesitant step towards her, blocking the glare. Now she could clearly see his beautiful face, once so beloved. He had obviously come directly from the fundraiser—he hadn’t even bothered to change out of his kilt.
“I’m sorry, Abby. I didn’t mean to chase you off like that. And I wanted to follow you, but I couldn’t leave just then. Not with it bein’ a fundraiser…” His voice trailed off for a moment, and then he squared his shoulders. “But I want to know—no, I need to know—why you came lookin’ for me.”
“I told you, Ian. I saw the sign and…”
“Damn it, Abby!” His eyes glittered. “You didn’t just suddenly develop nostalgia for me as you were drivin’ along Loch Ness.”
She didn’t know what to say. She had a fair amount to bring up if he was looking for a fight, but she just didn’t have it in her. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“I can’t do this now, Ian. I just can’t…” Her voice broke, and she was mortified to feel tears burning her eyes. She jumped up from the boulder and brushed past him. “I have to go.”
As before, he caught her arm as she tried to pass him and spun her around to face him.
“Abby, what in God’s name is the matter with you? You’re pale as a ghost, and you look like you haven’t slept or eaten in weeks. Are you ill?”
It was the concern in his luminous eyes that undid her, tearing open the walls she’d built around her heart. Tears burned her eyes and slipped down her cheeks as the sobs ripped through her.
He dragged her up against him, one big hand cradling her head against his chest, the other stroking her back. Unable to fight him anymore, she leaned into him, letting the warmth of his body seep into her.
“My God, Abby! Please tell me what’s happened!”
“My parents…there was a freak ice storm in April…black ice on the roads…” she broke off, gasping for breath.
“Abby…” Ian had gone pale, a look of horror on his face.
“No, I have to finish! I have to say it out loud!” she sobbed. “It was late at night, and Adam was at my door. I knew something terrible had happened. He was so pale, and I could tell he’d been crying. Adam, crying! It had to be bad—it had to be the worst thing ever for Adam to cry.
“He made me sit down, look him in the eyes. And then…and then he told me. A pileup on the highway. They were…killed instantly.”
“Emma and Michael…are dead? Both of them?” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears.
She could only nod, unable to speak.
“Oh God, Abby! Oh, Abby, I’m so sorry. So very sorry,” he ended on a whisper, pulling her close once more.
She didn’t know how long they stood there beside Loch Ness, his arms holding her tightly as she cried. Every now and then a shudder would rip through his body, and she knew he was crying too, crying for her parents, who had once hoped to call him their son, who were gone forever.
She sobbed against his shoulder until she had nothing left within her, her whole body shaking. It was the first time she’d been able to cry, as if she’d held it all in until this moment, when she could seek comfort in Ian’s arms. She realized now that some part of her, buried deep inside, had known he would find her there. And though so much lay unresolved between them, for just this moment it was as though the last four years had not happened.
But the reality was that those four years had happened, and she couldn’t languish here in Ian’s arms, no matter how tempting it was to forget about everything. She eased out of his arms and wiped her eyes on her shirt sleeve.
“God, Abby. I don’t even know what to say. The way I treated you before…” he began, his voice shaky. That tremble in his voice nearly undid her. She wouldn’t be able to hold it together if she let him speak.
She placed her fingers over his lips, cutting him off in mid-sentence. “Ian, please. How cou
ld you have known?” she murmured. She had to get out of there. She couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t look at those expressive green eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you for being here with me, but I really need to be alone now.”
Was it possible that he looked disappointed? “I understand. But if you change your mind, you’re always welcome at my house. I know everyone would love to see you. Mum’s been cooking all week, as she always does when I come for a visit. I’m only home for a few weeks this time before I go to the States to promote a movie.”
In her mind, Abby saw Ian’s parents, Laura and Duncan; saw the welcoming smiles they’d always had for her, saw those welcoming smiles melt into scowls of disapproval at the way she’d left things with Ian. “Thank you, Ian, but I just can’t right now. Please tell them I said hello.”
He nodded. “Will you be in town for awhile? We have a lot to talk about. I don’t want to let another four years go by.”
She was surprised by how much she wanted to see him again, to hear his side of the story. “I’ll call you in a few days. I just need some time right now, all right? I have to go.”
“No, I’ll go. You stay; I know this is your favorite place. Please, stay,” he repeated when she opened her mouth to argue. He hugged her tightly and then pressed his lips to her forehead. When he pulled back, he gazed meaningfully into her eyes. “I’ll be waitin’ for your call, Abby.”
With that, he turned and walked away. She watched him go, his tall figure striding through the trees, suddenly wanting nothing more than to call him back to her. It was a long time before she looked away.
****
Ian drove north along the eastern shore of Loch Ness in his black Jaguar XK convertible. He usually took great pleasure in having the wind in his face as he drove the sleek car, but not now. Now, he drove by rote, his thoughts focused solely on Abby.