“You seem to know a lot about him.”
“I should. Abby and I have been friends since we were in first grade. When I met her, she had already been without her mother for three years. A kid needs her mom, Duncan.”
“Aye.”
“I’ve watched that woman work twice as hard as everyone else for years. She always has to be the best. The smartest. The most prepared. She’s loyal to a fault, and she would do anything for the people she cares about. For some reason, Duncan Stewart, that list most recently included you.”
* * *
Duncan tasted shame, and his spirits sank lower. They had been driving for an hour already and had nothing to show for it. “Tell me about Howard Lander,” he said. “We were at Abby’s house one day, and she hid in the kitchen so she wouldn’t have to answer the door.”
Lara winced. “I tried to convince her to get a restraining order against him. She changed her name, but the legal action was a step too far.”
“Maybe not now.”
“True.”
“What’s wrong with the man?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. He’s too smart for his own good, for one thing. Abby has always tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. She thinks that losing her mother broke him.”
“Or maybe he was always a jerk.”
“Possibly. For years, he’s been a functioning alcoholic. But lately, the act has worn thin. Did she ever tell you about last Christmas?”
“No. I’ve asked about her parents, but she didn’t have much to say.”
“It’s no wonder. And for the record, my family has adopted her. We all love Abby, and if you mess with her again, we’ll hurt you.”
Duncan hid a faint smile. “Last Christmas? You were saying?”
Lara took a corner on two wheels. “Christmas Eve. Abby and I had been out to dinner with friends. We were on our way home when we cut through the town square in front of the courthouse. Howard was standing in the middle of the road wearing nothing but boxers, drunk out of his skull, singing Christmas carols.”
“Hell.”
“Yeah. It was pretty awful. The police carted him away, but the damage was done. Abby was humiliated. It was a human interest story, so one of the stations in Raleigh picked up the video footage and ran it on the evening news.”
Duncan cursed. “I should press charges...send the bastard to jail. Would that make things better or worse?”
“I can’t speak for Abby. Maybe that’s something the two of you need to talk about.”
* * *
Abby rotated her straightened-out coat hanger ninety degrees. Years ago, she had learned how to make the perfect s’more. The key was in a perfectly browned marshmallow. Her campfire was just right. Big enough to keep her warm. Not so big that she was risking a conflagration.
She knew Lara was worried about her. The texts had come fast and furious until Abby had been forced to turn off her phone. For the last twenty-plus hours, she’d been here at this campsite, hiding out. It was cowardly. She’d be the first to admit that. Even so, she needed time to recover.
Remembering the look on Duncan’s face when he accused her of fraud still made her want to dive into a deep, dark hole. Forget having her heart broken. This was several levels worse.
She had the campsite mostly to herself. It was midweek. The weather was nasty. Most of the tourists had moved on to other pursuits. Other than the fire, her only accoutrement was the portable awning that gave her a modicum of shelter from the elements. Fortunately, she had been able to snag the closest site to the bathhouse and the facilities.
Abby was car camping. It was something she and her dad used to do a lot when she was a kid. The childhood memories were happy ones. It was only much, much later that she realized they had been homeless for a time.
A gust of wind blew sideways, bringing a raw sluice of rain. She pulled her coat more tightly around her neck and stared into the flames. Her brain was blank. For the first time in many years, she had no clue how to move forward. Should she turn her father in to the authorities? Would that mean anything to Duncan?
The money was gone. No matter how many ways she tried to find a feasible solution, she hit a wall. She could work for the rest of her life and never be able to repay the Stewart family.
A sudden rustle of footsteps in the gravel brought her head up. Lara stood there, hands in the pockets of her raincoat. “You scared me, kid.”
Abby grimaced. “Sorry.”
She couldn’t bring herself to look at the man beside Lara. But she glared at her friend. “Traitor.”
Lara shrugged with an unrepentant smile. “I needed backup. He was available.”
Duncan squatted and peered at Abby’s dessert. “I’m no’ an expert, but that looks revolting.”
Lara thumped him on the shoulder. “When in Rome...” She leaned down and ruffled Abby’s hair. “You want me to sit in the car? In case you need a referee?”
Abby grimaced and handed the coat hanger to Duncan. “No. You can go home.” She stood and hugged her friend. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered in Lara’s ear, already close to tears again. And she hated that.
“You don’t have to do anything, honey.” Lara spoke softly so the words wouldn’t travel to Duncan, especially with the rain pelting down. “The ball’s in his court. If things get bad, call me and I’ll be back in a flash.”
Abby nodded, feeling nothing but a dull sense of dread. “Okay.”
With nowhere else to go, she sat back down on the tarp.
Duncan shot her a sideways glance. “What am I holding?” he asked, staring at the sugary blob.
“Don’t they have marshmallows in Scotland?”
“Aye. But we put them in cocoa. We don’t incinerate them.”
Abby reached in her waterproof tote and pulled out the graham crackers and Hershey’s bars. “Give me a sec.” She took the makeshift cooking utensil from him and held it over the fire again...only long enough to bring the marshmallow back to full heat. “Now, watch. Graham cracker. Chocolate. Hot marshmallow. And one more graham cracker. Voilà. A s’more.”
“I’m missing something.”
“It’s a fun, gooey treat. And everyone always wants some more. Here. Try it.”
Duncan’s fingers brushed hers as she handed over the messy concoction. With a dubious expression, he opened his mouth and took a big bite. His eyes closed. She saw the moment the mélange of flavors hit his taste buds.
“Well?” she said. “What do you think?”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You Americans have the weirdest and best ideas.”
“So you like it?”
He nodded solemnly. “I do. But what about you? Shall I share this one?”
“I’ll make another.” She wanted something to occupy her hands and give her an excuse not to look at him. After threading a second fat marshmallow onto the coat hanger, she concentrated on her cooking.
Duncan finished his s’more and sat down cross-legged beside her on the tarp. He’d been squatting the entire time up until now. The man must have incredible thigh muscles.
Thinking about Duncan’s thighs was not a good idea.
With her marshmallow nicely browned, she assembled her own dessert and took a bite. The knot in her chest relaxed as she stared into the flames. The scents and sounds of the fire made up for the fact that she couldn’t feel her frozen feet. She’d been too upset to eat anything yesterday. Now she was starving.
Having Duncan with her here in the forest was both comforting and unsettling. Because she didn’t know what to say, she kept quiet. He was quiet, as well.
The rain drummed on the tarp, providing an intimate, if somewhat damp, bubble of privacy.
Finally, Duncan sighed. He poked at the fire with a small stick, rearranging the coals and sending a geyser of spa
rks into the air. “I owe you an apology, Abby. I said things yesterday that I deeply regret.”
She licked her fingers. “It’s understandable. You were shocked and upset. And still grieving your grandmother.”
He cursed beneath his breath. At least she thought it was a curse. The Gaelic word was unfamiliar.
He turned sideways and stared at her. “Are you always so quick to give people the benefit of the doubt? I’m sorry, Abby,” he said. “Deeply sorry. I was angry with you for not telling me the truth, but it was more than that. From the beginning, I was conflicted about the fact that your firm had a client who wanted to buy the business. On the one hand, it seemed like my way out. But that felt disloyal to Granny. And then when I found out you had lied by omission, the whole thing seemed sinister.”
“I’m sorry, too,” she muttered. “My father—”
Duncan put a hand over her mouth. “We’re not going to talk about him, Abby. He has nothing to do with you and me. His sins are his own. You have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing at all. It’s not your fault.”
“Then why do I feel so terrible?” she croaked. There was nothing she could do about the tear that rolled down her cheek.
Duncan scooted closer and put his arm around her. The heat from his big body was more comforting than the fire. “It’s time for me to talk and you to listen, lass. Can you do that?”
She nodded. Whatever he was going to tell her was bound to be painful, but she was a big girl. Closure was good.
Duncan took her chin without warning. “Ye’ve got marshmallow on your cheek. Hold still.”
She held her breath as he bent and kissed away the sticky, sweet residue. His lips never touched hers. But he was so close she could feel the stubble on his face. The man hadn’t shaved. And now that she thought about it, he looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days.
Her heart raced. Her blood pumped.
Maybe she was experiencing a sugar high. That’s all.
Duncan retreated and tucked her more firmly against his side. “I’ve not been entirely honest with you, Abby.”
Alarm skittered through her veins. Was there a woman in his life after all? “Oh?” she said, trying not to sound as freaked out as she felt.
“I resented the hell out of the fact that I had to be the one to come here to the States and help Granny run Stewart Properties. I felt backed into a corner by circumstances beyond my control.”
“I see.”
“My life in Skye was good. Is good,” he said firmly. “I like my job and my friends and the vast, wild beauty of the land where I grew up.”
Her heart sank. “I see.” It was the only response she could come up with, at least the only one that didn’t reveal too much of her own distress.
“I don’t think you do,” he said slowly. “My life in Skye is great. It’s comfortable. But here’s the thing, Abby. I’m thirty-two years old. I don’t think comfortable is the endgame for a man my age. That’s for people who are fifty or sixty or, hell, I don’t know. Maybe even eighty.”
“What are you trying to say, Duncan?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “The TV shrinks tell us that personal growth only happens when we’re pushed outside our comfort zones. Well, I’m here to tell you that these last couple of months have been way the hell out of my comfort zone. And what’s worse, even after I made the decision to move to Candlewick and help, suddenly Granny was dead. And the business had lost five million dollars...and—”
When he ground to a halt, she saw the muscles in his throat work. Against hers, his body was rigid.
“What, Duncan? And what?”
He turned and pressed a kiss to her temple. “And then there was you.”
To be included in his list of tragedies stung. “I’m sorry I made your life difficult,” she said.
His rough laugh held little real humor. “You were the only bright spot in a very traumatic season for me. You were charming and funny, and then later... Well, you were my friend, Abby. And finally, my lover. My feelings for you have been all wrapped up in the upheaval of my comfortable life, and I haven’t had a clue what to do about you.”
Her heart sank. Duncan’s honesty was hard to bear. She was glad he didn’t blame her for the missing money, but the man was not exactly pledging his undying love. How could he? They’d known each other less than a month.
Suddenly, the rain went from gentle showers to a deluge. Huge, fat droplets pummeled the fire, making it sizzle and pop.
Even the overhead canopy wasn’t sufficient to keep them dry.
Abby took his hand. “We need to get in the car,” she said. She made a dash for the vehicle, opened it and scrambled into the back, waiting for him to follow. Duncan was right on her heels. He slammed the door and sprawled in the seat with a sigh. “Where’s your tent, lass?”
“Don’t have one. I slept right here last night.” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dried her face. There was nothing she could do about her hair. From past experience, she knew her curls were running wild. She didn’t have on a lick of makeup, and her T-shirt and jeans were ancient. This might be the last time she ever saw Duncan Stewart, and she looked like hell.
With all the car doors shut, the windows soon steamed up from their breathing. A big man like Duncan Stewart put off a lot of body heat.
Despite being wet and exhausted, he looked ruggedly handsome. It really wasn’t fair.
She summoned her courage. “There’s no need to worry about me, Duncan. I knew when I first kissed you that we were having a fling. I guess since it’s you, that makes it a Highland fling?” She was getting punchy from lack of sleep and grief and the strain of not begging him to stay.
He frowned. “Listen. Don’t talk. Remember?”
She mimed zipping her lips.
Duncan’s lips quirked in a half smile. “So to sum up, these last few weeks have set me on my heels. Every time I thought I had found solid ground, something else happened to shove me on my ass. When I thought Granny was leaving the company to Brody and me fifty-fifty, it was bad enough. But then you told me about the damned will and all the changes, and suddenly all of this was my responsibility. The business. The house. The family heritage.”
“Well, not to beat a dead horse, but with a few strokes of a pen, you can be done with it all. You can be home in Scotland before you know it. No more responsibility. No more ties.”
“And no more you.” He said it soberly.
Her eyes stung. “This is a really long speech. And my clothes are wet. Could we speed this up, please?”
Duncan laughed out loud. “God, I adore you.”
“You do?” She blinked at him, wondering if the water in her ears had affected her hearing.
“Come here, my sweet, wet Abby.” He pulled her into his embrace and stretched out as much as he could with her on top of him in a very compromising fashion. “Kiss me, love.”
Then his hand was on the back of her neck and their lips met and every inch of her body that had been cold and shivering moments before was now on fire.
Duncan tasted like chocolate and marshmallows and everything she had ever wanted in her life. His tongue teased her lips, stroking and thrusting and taking her breath.
“I don’t know why we’re doing this,” she said, half-panicked.
“I do,” he groaned. He slid a hand under her shirt and unfastened her bra. His fingers teased her taut nipples. “You gave yourself to me, lass. Body and soul. I took the gift, and I didn’t treasure it, but I won’t make that mistake again.” He cupped one of her breasts and squeezed gently.
“Finish your speech,” she said, breathless with hope.
He smiled and kissed her nose. A giant sigh lifted his chest and let it fall again. He tucked her head against his shoulder. “I’m not leaving Candlewick, Abby. I’m not leaving you. It finally dawned on me that what
I really want is to carry on my grandparents’ legacy. I think it’s my purpose. The missing money may be more of a blow than I realize, but I’m not afraid of hard work. And there’s one more thing...”
She held her breath, playing with his collarbone where she had unbuttoned his shirt. “Yes?”
“I want you to do it with me,” he said firmly. “Either formally or informally. If you want to continue your job at the law firm, I certainly understand. But I would think a company like ours could use professional legal counsel in-house. Under the circumstances, I’m not sure what kind of salary I can offer you, but the benefits package would be significant.”
She stroked him through the heavy, damp denim that was not thick enough to disguise the eagerness of his erection. “I’m impressed by your package already,” she teased. The reality of what he was saying overrode the humor in the situation. Her chin wobbled. “You’re serious about this?”
He held her chin with two fingers, tilting her head so he could see her face. His gentle gaze held so much pure emotion, her heart contracted. “I’ve never been more sure of anything, Abby. I want you to be my wife. I love you body and soul. And before you even have to ask, that means children, too.”
Suddenly, everything she had ever wanted was a breath away. It seemed too good to be true. Her entire body trembled with a mixture of fear and delight. “You love me? Truly?”
Seventeen
Duncan stroked her hair, feeling the silky, bouncy waves. “To my very bones. We’re going to call this a practice proposal. It’s too soon, and I want you to know you can trust me for the long haul.” He paused and winced. “Not to mention the fact that I’d prefer a more romantic setting.”
“Ah, a Scotsman with a heart for romance. If we ever get married, will you promise to wear your kilt?”
He pinched her butt. “No ifs about it, lass. You’re mine now. No going back. And yes. I’ll be delighted to wear my kilt if it will make you happy.”
On Temporary Terms Page 16