“I like y…” Garbled words mumbled as his mouth settled near her ear lobe. “Like a woman wi’ drection, not ‘fraid t’ask what y’want.”
“Where’s your room?” Aela turned her head out of his reach.
His lopsided smile beamed at her as though he hadn’t a care in the world. “Yeah. Let’s…t’bed.”
The ogre had morphed into a sexy wild highlander, definitely one for the romance books. Her chuckle was a flattened huff into his shoulder as his good arm bumbled around her.
“Look at the state of you, Nairn!”
The sudden voice whipped her head up.
Chapter Three
Aela’s gaze flew to the man entering the room.
He chortled as he flanked Nairn from the other side. “Are you taking this lovely lass to bed already, Nairn?”
She felt acute embarrassment flooding her. “I’d like to point out that whatever you think you see isn’t really what’s happening here.”
A loud chuckle was the reply as the older man helped to perch Nairn on the edge of the desk. “Dinna fash yersel, lass! Hold him steady for a bit longer. I’ve a folding wheelchair outside the door that I’ve borrowed from Mariskay Medical Centre for the next couple of days. I’ll just away and get it in.”
Between them they lowered Nairn’s almost inert body into it. Aela didn’t care who the man was, but the fact he was familiar, and was organized to deal with an invalid, meant he was a welcome intrusion.
“We’ll just get Nairn along to the wee downstairs bedroom, lass. Stay with me for I can do with your help.”
She trailed the older man as he pushed the wheelchair past the cloakroom she’d used earlier, and beyond the kitchen. Manoeuvring Nairn’s almost comatose body wasn’t simple, but they got him flat onto the narrow bed with his limbs relatively straight. His mumbled words were unintelligible, his body as lax as one can be with two plaster casts. Trying to lift his head off the pillow he failed, his grunt of acceptance accompanied by a drunken grin. The happy pills worked spot-on.
“G’night, Aela. Meet Ruaridh.” Nairn’s good arm waved in the air as though introducing them.
“Hold him at the shoulders,” Ruaridh instructed. “The shirt won’t matter, but we’ll ditch his sweatpants.”
Remove his pants? She thought of the healthy…flesh that would be exposed. Ruaridh, thank heavens, was untying Nairn’s waistband cord and didn’t notice. She had fantasized often enough about a stunning guy peeling off his pants, but hadn’t imagined an older guy in the picture as well.
Now, as instructed, she held Nairn steady at the shoulders to prevent jarring of his ribs as Ruaridh first whipped apart the Velcro on Nairn’s single trek sandal and dropped it to the floor. When he eased the soft cotton sweatpants past Nairn’s hips she gulped. No underwear.
“Ah. You might want to look away, lass.” Again the older guy chuckled like mad.
Aela knew she was a bit slow in closing her eyes, but what the hell! Curiosity killed more than cats.
“Mmm. Lovely. Y’re hands…like velvet.”
Nairn’s murmurs were quite audible as his good hand groped out. A feeble blue gaze flickered and latched onto her bent head.
“You’re…” A hint of understanding flashed across his face as he realized she was not the one stripping him.
“Ruaridh?”
“Aye! It’s me.”
A pathetic weak grin was the best Nairn could manage, yet his words ploughed on. “Ruaridh? In’t she gorgeous?”
“Just ignore his ramblings, lass,” Ruaridh mouthed.
It was clear Ruaridh was taking great delight in the situation.
“Go to sleep, Nairn.”
Ruaridh winked at her as he dragged a light cover across Nairn’s prostrate body and motioned her outside. His creased face grinned as he held out his hand. “I’m Nairn’s father, Ruaridh Malcolm. I wondered how long he’d hold out, but he was determined to do this interview. I’m pleased to meet you although it’s clear I should have come back much sooner. I apologize for that and for any embarrassment I might have caused there. You are?”
“Aela Cameron.”
Her fingers were engulfed almost as much as when she’d shaken Nairn’s hand, his father not quite so tall, but still well over six feet.
“So, Nairn’s employed you?”
Aela had no idea how much Ruaridh might know about his son’s business, so her reply was cautious.
“Not exactly. My experience with planes and boats, I think, was favourable.” She knew that might be a bit of an exaggeration, given Nairn Malcolm’s lack of reaction.
“Sounds good, lass.” Ruaridh’s smile was encouraging. “Was your office experience acceptable, as well?”
Ruaridh, without doubt, knew about all the jobs, so Aela decided not to fudge her reply. “Sorry. Can’t answer. I pulled the plug on the interview before your son could assess my office skills.”
Although she strove to be professional her mouth twitched, the twinkling of his grey eyes just too much. Succumbing, a guilty smile split her face.
“You called a halt to the interview? Wish I’d been spying in the window and had seen that.”
Since the interview hadn’t been completed, Ruaridh deemed it necessary for her to remain on Lanera till the following day when Nairn could continue. “Will that be a problem?”
“No problem. Is there a hotel you recommend?” She was happy to remain on Lanera for a few days, her backpack having everything she needed.
“Och no, lass. No need to look for that. The office apartment will do just fine.”
A self-contained one-bedroom suite, with a tiny efficiency kitchen, was down the hall from the office, in the opposite wing from the small bedroom Nairn was using.
“Make yourself at home, lass. I’ll have a meal ready at seven o’clock and I’ll see to Nairn. That’ll give you time to walk around the grounds before dinner, or wander down to the harbour at Mariskay.”
Aela needed little persuasion. Shucking off the suit, she changed into jeans, grabbed a light sweater, and donned her habitual walking boots – glad to be away from her potential employer for a while.
Mariskay was fascinating, the village carved into a small curved inlet, yet bigger than she’d envisaged. An interesting range of shops, bars and restaurants catered to locals and tourists alike. At present, it was full of people sunning themselves on benches surrounding the horse-shoe bay, listening to raucous cawing of the hovering gulls and sweeping terns, and inhaling the sea-salt smell permeating the warm air from the bladderwrack that littered the pebbled white sand.
The harbour moored a variety of boats: some commercial fishing craft, others purely for pleasure. The catamaran that had picked her up earlier was berthed beside a large boatyard. As she got closer, Aran walked out with a number of other men, bidding each other goodbye.
“You got the job, then, Aela?” Aran asked.
“Not quite. I’m continuing the interview tomorrow.”
A wry grin split Aran’s face. “Ah! I’m guessing the stupid bugger collapsed on you?”
“Mr. Malcolm wasn’t able to complete the interview in one session.”
“He asked you to stay on for another day?” Aran sounded amazed.
“Not Nairn. Ruaridh asked me to remain till tomorrow.”
“Right. Ought to have guessed that. Nairn should never have left the hospital yesterday. His plastered limbs are a painful bloody nuisance, and the rib fractures are hampering his breathing this time, but it’s his concussion disorientation that’s his main problem. The consultants didn’t want to release him, yet he would have it I brought him home so he could get back to work. Hates being tied down.”
Aela didn’t find that difficult to imagine. The concussion explained his almost comatose state. A real numbskull! Yet the way Aran referred to this time made it clear Nairn Malcolm was no stranger to serious injury.
“Would you like a tour of the boatyard?”
She jumped at the chance as Aran p
ulled out his cell phone.
“Give me a second while I explain to the wife.”
When he’d finished, she hastened to apologize. “Won’t your wife mind you shepherding me around the boatyard?”
“Och, no. She’s Ruaridh’s secretary, but clocks off early to be home for our two young school kids. She knew you were interviewing today, so this time is as good as any.”
The luxury craft being built in the boatyard were impressive – small fishing vessels, a yacht, speedboat, and a few catamarans. There was another area for producing dinghies, jet-skis and kayaks. As Aran explained some technical details Aela would have loved to find out more, wanted a shot in all of them, but glancing at her watch put the scuppers on that. “Hell’s bells and buckets! I’m having dinner with them at seven. Sorry, got to run, but thanks for the tour, Aran.”
His offer to drive her up to the castle she declined. “No need if I go now.”
Aran explained that she could head back a quicker way via the shoreline to the cove, only possible during the current low tide.
“Oh, that’s brilliant. I’ll nip round that way.” Her thanks drifted back as she sprinted along the quayside, waving goodbye to Aran.
Rounding from Mariskay Bay she became aware of how quickly the landscape changed, the terrain rising steeply to form the high bluff. The vegetation of ferns, bushes and trees grew thick above the shoreline, protecting and concealing the top rise, the reason she’d been unable to see the castle from the water earlier that day. Ten minutes later she’d picked her way around the narrow strip of silvery sand and rocks to the cove.
Skipping up the staircase, wearing boots and bearing no backpack, was a doddle. Not winded at all, the sight of the castle was once again stunning. Regardless of her experience with its disquieting owner, the building was enthralling. Back inside via the great room she headed straight to the kitchen calling softly, not wanting to disturb Nairn Malcolm if he was still asleep.
“Punctual as well as beautiful, lass. That’ll go down well with my very exacting son, Miss Cameron. Nairn’s a master of time and hates wasting any, which explains why he’s so frustrated at being laid up just now. The food’s ready, and we can eat as soon as you like. Nairn’s still out cold so it’ll be just the two of us.”
Over mouth-watering seafood paella¸ Ruaridh explained Nairn’s debilitated state. Brian, Nairn’s recent PA, had spent the previous Friday on Lanera bidding farewell to colleagues at the boatyard. “On Saturday morning, Aran ferried them down to Glasgow with Nairn’s motorbike on board. Brian headed for his flight to London, and Nairn rode off to conduct business nearby.”
“His motorbike was on board?” She grinned imagining the tricky transfer of a motorbike on and off the catamaran.
“Easy to do, lass. Nairn built a special ramp and a clamp for the bike. Sometimes he takes the bike and is ferried from Oban, on the mainland, back and forth to Lanera.”
“Why didn’t he fly the floatplane?”
“The simple answer is Nairn likes using all his toys. The business venue was about 10 miles from the marina in Glasgow so it seemed convenient to take the bike.”
“Seemed convenient?”
“You can see from the state of him that his bike wasn’t a safe choice on Saturday. Nairn’s accident occurred on the famous Loch Lomond road, his bike malfunctioning on his way home.”
“So it was nothing to do with an extreme sport?”
“Nothing sporting about it at all!”
She winced at his change of tone.
“I’m thankful there was no collision with any oncoming vehicle. His injuries aren’t minor, but neither are they as life-threatening as they could have been.”
Since it was only Tuesday she couldn’t prevent her frown, scarcely crediting Nairn Malcolm had ferried her here three days after the accident. “Jeeze! Guy got a death wish or something, interviewing so soon?”
“Och no, lass. But my Nairn’s a stubborn cuss.”
“Why couldn’t he wait till he could hold a meeting without collapsing?”
The food piled in as Ruaridh answered in fits and starts. “Wouldn’t wait any longer. Too much going on for him to be confined to base, and he’s been interviewing for two weeks already for the PA job – before the accident. He hasn’t found anyone willing to come up to Lanera for days at a time.”
“Why wouldn’t they want to escape London and come to this pretty little island?” Amazement widened her gaze.
“Not everyone thinks this place beautiful in the depths of winter. You’re seeing it in good weather just now.” Ruaridh’s ironic tone wasn’t lost on her, neither was his vibrating chuckle.
“Mr. Malcolm, I’m from British Columbia. Do you think the sun always shines there?”
Ruaridh was no stranger to Vancouver and neither, she learned, was Nairn. As he cleared away their main course Ruaridh related visits they’d made. A toffee dessert and a selection of Scottish cheese followed, and at his urging Aela had both.
“You can cope,” Ruaridh laughed when she protested about the fattening aspects.
“Are you saying it won’t add layers to my hips, Mr. Malcolm?” She felt very much at home with Ruaridh who reminded her of her Uncle Harris.
“You’re not one of those willowy-thin types my son often squires around. I like to see a lass with a healthy appetite.”
Aela wondered if he was referring to someone in particular, someone different from the tiny doll-like blonde she’d seen clinging to Nairn’s arms in the newspaper rag.
Refusing her offer to help tidy up, Ruaridh popped the remaining paella onto a covered plate. For Nairn.
Hours passed as they chatted, Nairn remaining fast asleep when checked on. Sipping coffee laced with Glayva liqueur she told Ruaridh of her plan to meet with anyone related to her great-grandfather who had emigrated from the island of Mull.
“So that’s why you requested a short-term contract, and why you’d already organized a work permit and visa?”
She laughed at his expression since he seemed impressed.
“Exactly. I’m well-planned. After I finished university, I was too desperate to get back to work to take the ubiquitous year out. There were too many new planes to fly since Uncle Harris had upgraded the fleet, and at that time too many of his newly acquired boats to play with since he’d expanded into other transport forms. Don’t know where the time went, but January of this year, you know those New Year resolutions nobody ever sticks to? It was now or never, I told myself. Ruts be damned; big changes were on the cards.”
“I don’t get the impression ruts are your usual style.” Ruaridh’s eyes twinkled back at her.
“I managed to plan six months travel, but I’m starting an M.B.A. course at the University of British Columbia, beginning September 1st. Since it’s the end of June already, I’ve not got long to make contact with any of my great-grandfather’s family.”
“You didn’t expect a contract flying a floatplane?”
“Shit, no! I expected a filing job. The appointments consultant was flabbergasted when she read Mr. Malcolm’s requests for a PA, and for a pilot-cum-driver. She’d already remarked on my flying credentials during our earlier email contact.”
“Call me Ruaridh, and I’ll call you Aela, if you don’t mind, lass? It saves the confusion of there being two of us called Mr. Malcolm.”
“Be glad to, Ruaridh. Tell me to piddle off, if you like, but I’d love to know how you’re so familiar with your son’s business.”
Ruaridh’s answer was candid.
“I was sole-owner of Gale Breakers till eight years ago when the business took a nose-dive. Not often a guy has his son pull him out, but that’s what my Nairn did. He’d recently amassed a chunk of money, so he invested. Now it’s half his, half mine. I run the operation here with Aran as our boatyard manager. Nairn does the globetrotting for client meetings, as well as travelling for his adventure sports businesses.”
By nine o’clock Nairn still hadn’t wakened.
“I’m heading home, lass. I’ll be back the morn, sometime after seven.”
Chapter Four
“You don’t live in the castle?”
Aela was staggered by Ruaridh’s statement.
“Och, no, lass. I’m away back to my own bed. My house is down in Mariskay.”
“What if he wakes up?” She wasn’t inclined to panic, her first aid certificate covered a few scenarios, but not welding together limbs that needed re-pinning.
“He’ll be fine. He only passed out because he tried to do too damn much. It’ll take a couple of weeks for his ribs to feel good, but he’s a determined lad, and he’ll work around his problems. Always has and always will.” Ruaridh made for the back door, Aela in tow. “He’ll likely sleep for hours, and when he wakes up he’ll find the food I’ve left for him.”
She wasn’t sure about Ruaridh leaving her alone with a man she didn’t know, a man who had made a pass at her during the charade of an interview. One good thing though? Out-running him would be a piece of cake.
“I’ll set the alarms on the way out. Here’s my home and mobile phone numbers just in case you need them, though I’m confident you’ll manage.” Ruaridh’s wink was blatant.
“But you’re leaving your son with a stranger, I could rob him blind!” Words failed her.
“You could, but I don’t think you will. You’ve told me enough, lass, for me to know my son’s in capable hands. You’ll be fine.” Ruaridh left with another wink.
Staying in new accommodation was something she’d grown used to over the last five months. A few of the places during her world trek had been a tad threatening, but this beautiful castle was wonderful, so the situation didn’t overly bother her.
At first.
After Ruaridh’s departure she watched a film but was so restless she couldn’t for the life of her have given details when it was over. She’d popped out into the hallway a number of times, but there had been no indications Nairn had wakened: no noise in the kitchen, office, or in the great room. Sleep would be impossible without knowing how he was, yet she didn’t want to alarm him if he was already awake. Her noisy treads along the corridor made her confident he would at least be alerted to the presence of another person in the house.
Take Me Now Page 3