Her stubbornness faded. He saw it by the slump of her shoulders.
She laid a hand on his arm. “I can’t go back. Not yet.” Her hand was cold.
“Lass, why didn’t ye tell me ye were chilled?” He rubbed his hands over her arms. “Get to the pickup so I can turn the heat on.”
“In a minute.” She stilled one of his hands with hers. “First, hear me out.”
He should have asked her straightaway who she was. He never should’ve let her sit on that damned rock so long. The town would crucify him if the American lass took ill. Or became more ill.
“I’ll listen. But can you at least put yere sweater on? I’ll get it from the truck.”
She nodded. And as he walked away, the stubborn little thing scrambled back up on her perch.
He hurried. While he was at it, he also grabbed the quilt that Maggie, John’s wife, had tucked behind the pickup’s seat. You never knew when you might get stuck out on a Highland road. He took the items back to Sadie.
“Here.” He handed her the sweater, then climbed up beside her, wrapping the quilt around her shoulders. “Now talk.”
When she didn’t immediately speak, he gazed down at her.
She was worrying her lower lip. “I could sit here for a year.”
“Well, that isn’t happening. Ye’ve got five minutes.”
She ignored him, her eyes fixed on the horizon, captured by the massive full moon. “The ocean is vast and makes my worries seem small in comparison.”
Now that he understood. “I’m a fisherman. Sometimes I think the Almighty made the sea for just that purpose.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “I can’t go back tonight. I need this time.”
“Ye can’t sit out here all night either.”
She pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulders and he squelched the urge to wrap his arm around her to keep the quilt in place.
“I promise to go back tomorrow,” she said in a small voice. “Just don’t rush me. I know what I need, and it isn’t a bunch of people.”
A strange notion hit him. She didn’t need a bunch of people, but she needed him?
“All right.” The words came out before he knew what he was doing. He sighed. There would be hell to pay for this. “Let me call my brother John and tell him what’s up. Then I’m going to take ye down the road. There’s a B and B that might put us up for the night. And we’ll go back early in the morn. Agreed?”
She nodded.
He allowed her to stay on her rock until the moon fully rose. When he went to get down, she didn’t argue, but willingly slid down, too. As she walked beside him, she was quiet, subdued, but better than when she’d come into the pub hours ago in Gandiegow.
She kept the quilt around her shoulders as she climbed into his truck. It occurred to him that she was the first woman besides one of the old quilt ladies to actually ride in it with him.
After going a couple of miles down the road, he pulled into the lane with the B and B sign, the one he’d seen many times when he’d driven to Inverness. Thankfully, the lights were still on.
He left the pickup running. “Stay here while I see if they have a vacancy.”
As he walked to the front door, he pulled out his phone and called John.
There was no polite hallo. “Hold on,” his brother whispered. The bed creaked, the door opened and closed, and then he was back on. “Why are you calling so late? Ye know I have to get up early for the boat. And so do you.”
“I know. But I might be a few minutes late in the morning.”
“If ye’re not there, we’ll leave without you. I have to set an example for Samuel and Robert.” Maggie’s teenage cousins.
“I’ll try to make it, but do what ye have to do.”
“Who was it that ye left with tonight?” John asked.
Ross reached the B and B’s front door. A note had been pinned to it:
Ring bell, then go around to the back entrance.
“Nobody,” Ross answered. “I’ve got to run.” He hung up.
Within a few minutes, Ross had secured a room. A room. He walked back to his truck . . . Maybe his news would make Sadie want to return to Gandiegow tonight.
He opened her door.
A line between her eyebrows formed. “What’s wrong? Didn’t they have a place for us to stay?”
“Aye. They have a room.”
“Good.” She slipped from the vehicle.
But he blocked her from going farther, keeping one hand on the door and the other on the truck, and knelt to get closer to her eye level. “One, lass. They only have one room.”
“Oh.” She chewed her lip again, but this time it looked as if she was adding sums in her head. After a moment, she looked up at him. “Okay.”
“There’s another problem.” Gawd help him for lying to the owner. “To secure the room I had to tell her I was with my new bride.”
Sadie stepped back, bumping her legs against the truck frame. She stared up at him, incredulous. “No one is going to believe that.” She waved a hand at him as if it was an awful joke. “Seriously. No one.”
“They will. The missus was apologetic that there’s only twin beds in the room.”
“Thank God for small favors.”
“I told her we’d make do.”
Sadie’s mouth fell open. Then she slammed it shut. She acted as if she might try again to say something, but then only shook her head.
“Come. Let’s get you inside.” He offered her his hand. “We’ve got to make her believe it. The missus was suspect at first, but I convinced her we’re fiercely in love.”
Sadie snorted. “It’s going to take more than a little hand-holding to make it believable.” But she laid her hand in his anyway.
They walked from the gravel driveway to the trellis at the edge of the garden. She stopped suddenly, tugging at him. “Wait.” She let go and transferred a ring from her right hand to her left. “There. The illusion is complete. Thank goodness for Gigi’s ring.”
“Gigi?” he asked.
“My grandmother,” she said quietly. “She gave it to me when I graduated in May.” Sadie went still, as if the thought had flipped a switch that rooted her feet to the grass.
Gawd, he hoped she wouldn’t start crying.
The missus of the B and B leaned out the back entrance. “Are ye coming in?”
Ross wrapped an arm around Sadie and continued walking, leaning down to speak in her ear. “I know I’m asking a lot, but can you pretend that ye’re happy until we get to the room? As much as I love my truck, it would be damned uncomfortable to sleep in it tonight.”
She nodded.
But the missus was watching them like a hawk. Ross kissed the top of Sadie’s head. When they got nearer, he spoke to the woman, not believing for a second Sadie could hide her grief.
“Is she all right?”
Ross led the American lass inside. “We’ve had a long day. She’s tired, is all. She’ll be fine once I get her in bed.”
Sadie stiffened.
The missus looked concerned. And then as if she was only now noticing, she glanced at their hands. No luggage. She glowered at its absence. “Just remember this isn’t some manky hotel. This is my home.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ross said, glad the woman had already taken his money.
“The room’s upstairs.” The missus stared at him hard for another moment.
Ross pulled Sadie to him tighter. “Come, luv.” He ushered her to the stairs and up.
Once he had her inside the room and the door closed, he sighed with relief. The bedroom wasn’t much, but it had the two requisite beds, simple patchwork quilts, and pillows. The only luxury as far as he could tell was the two fluffy robes hanging inside the opened armoire.
Sadie eased herself down on the closest bed. “Sorry.
”
“Ye’ve nothing to be sorry for. Do you want to use the loo first?”
“Yes.” She rose gracefully and left the room.
He’d gotten himself into a tight spot. He wasn’t sure how to handle the lass. Even worse, how was he going to handle Deydie and the rest of the quilters when they found out he’d taken her from the village and had her out all night?
He went to the window and stared out at the ocean until Sadie came back. He didn’t say anything or look in her eyes as he walked from the room to take his turn in the loo. When he came back, she was wrapped in one of the robes, but he could see she was still fully clothed, the hem of her dress showing.
“I was cold,” she explained.
He crossed the bedroom. “Lie down. Let’s get these covers on you.” He pulled the top quilt from his bed and spread it over her bed, too. He couldn’t help himself—he tucked the covers around her like his mum used to do for him when he was a wee lad.
Sadie wasn’t a wee bairn, but she needed his compassion so he gave it.
She gazed up at him with her deep brown eyes. “Thanks. For everything.”
What could he say? It was his pleasure? Well, it had been . . . up until the point he’d learned who she was.
He turned off the lights, and the room went dark. The moon was high, though, and he had no trouble making it to his bed. He pulled back the remaining cover and lay down. How strange the day had turned out.
“Ross?” she said into the darkness.
“Yes?”
He watched as she wrestled with the quilts to face him, his tucking-in job wasted.
“Why aren’t you married?”
“Where is that coming from?”
“I’m curious. I was right about you. You’re a nice guy, and Harry’s trying to set you up? There has to be a story behind it all.”
They’d spent most of their time in silence today, but now she wanted to talk? He guessed he could say anything under the blanket of night . . . even the truth.
Ross sighed. “I was engaged once. Do ye have a beau back in the States?”
Sadie snorted again. “Not hardly. Tell me about your engagement. Unless, of course, it’s too painful.”
Ross could’ve produced his own snort, but he didn’t. “Nay. Not painful at all. Her name is Pippa. She’s a childhood friend. She runs the factory just outside of town. Our das set it up when we were kids.”
“I met Pippa today, and her husband Max. They drove us into town after the bus broke down. You were engaged to her? An arranged marriage?”
“Something like that.” He told her what had happened over Christmas, how his life had gone from settled to up-in-the-air. “Max came into town and stole Pippa’s heart. I’m happy for her. We were never more than friends.” And he’d made his mind up that if he was ever to marry, it would have to start out with fireworks like it had with Ramsay and Kit. And Max and Pippa. Love at first sight. That way Ross would know for sure that what he was doing was the right thing and not wasting his time. And in this future relationship with his unidentified-as-yet wife, they wouldn’t be great friends at first . . . friendship would come later. In this way—hell, in all ways—his mystery wife would have to be the opposite of Pippa. He didn’t even know what that would mean exactly, but she would just have to be nothing like her. He finished telling Sadie the rest, admitting one of his greatest flaws. “But I was going to go through with it and marry her anyway. I believed that doing what my father wanted me to do—hell, what the whole town wanted—was more important than what I wanted. That it was the right thing.” And somehow, doing what everyone else thought was right turned out to be wrong for Ross.
“I know what you mean. Gigi and Oliver wanted me to become a dental hygienist, so I became one.”
Ross could hear the frown in her words. He wanted to ask her about it, but then she spoke.
“Have you ever lost anyone?” Her voice was quiet, but her grief was palpable.
He thought about his da.
“A close friend?” she clarified.
The images of Duncan, his best mate, flashed through his mind. “Aye.” It had been one of the hardest things he’d ever gone through, to watch his friend fight leukemia and lose. “What about you?”
“Gigi was my closest friend.”
“I lost my closest friend, too.” Ross found himself opening up about Duncan. He hadn’t talked about it with anyone, because everyone he knew had lived it along with him. Even though it tore at him to share with Sadie what had happened, it felt right at the same time. Then he went back a little farther and told her how the loss of his da hadn’t been any easier. It had been sudden, no time to prepare, and no time to say I love you once more.
Sadie’s bed creaked. He saw her rise and pad toward him. “Scoot over. I’m cold.”
He could’ve argued that he was a big man in a small bed. But who was he to turn away a woman who needed him? He opened his arms and she slipped in. She didn’t feel cold, but warm, and smelled of the outdoors, the ocean, and sunshine. He pulled the covers around them.
Sadie spoke into his chest. “I know what you mean about not getting to say I love you one more time. My parents went out for the evening and never came home. They were hit by a tractor trailer. I was six.” She shivered.
He rubbed his chin over her hair. “Aw, lass, I’m sorry.” He’d been lucky at least to have his father until he was grown.
“What about your mother?” she asked.
“She’s in Glasgow. She moved in with her sister to care for her. Aunt Glynnis isn’t well.”
Sadie was quiet for a long moment. She was probably thinking about how she wasn’t well either. Her silence gave him time to dwell on how bizarre this was. He was holding this sweet woman with no intentions of putting the moves on her. Not because he didn’t find her intriguing, and not because she didn’t fit up against him perfectly. He just wasn’t the sort of man to take advantage of a woman in distress. She was completely safe with him. She was nice, and even adorable in a quirky kind of way, but not his type. He yawned. In the middle of it, he had a fleeting thought . . . This lass is the opposite of Pippa.
* * *
Sadie couldn’t believe she’d been so bold. But she had to do it. She wasn’t cold when she’d crawled into Ross’s bed. He was the one who needed to be held. He was hurting and needed a hug, something a man like him would never admit. She had not done it for herself, no matter how good it felt to be in his arms. His yawn made her yawn, too.
She closed her eyes and snuggled in deeper. “Ross?”
“Hmm?” The hum of him relaxed her even more.
She sighed contentedly. “I know I promised to return to Gandiegow.” She yawned again. “But can I have one more day to sit on the rock by the ocean before we go back?” She breathed him in and fell asleep.
Sadie woke, relaxed, well rested, and still snuggled against the Scotsman’s chest. For a moment, she could imagine having this pretend life—whole, healthy, and sleeping in the arms of a kind man. But her current reality wasn’t real.
His breathing was even and she was afraid if she moved, she’d wake him. But the restroom called. She slipped from his arms and stood. He rolled over, an arm and leg hanging over the side of the bed in the process. He was even more handsome in his sleep, if that was possible. She quietly left and went down the hall.
When she returned, Ross laid his phone on the bed and bent over to tie his army boots. “Get yere shoes on. We’ll go downstairs, grab our breakfast, and leave.”
Her heart dropped—they were leaving? Going back to Gandiegow? Now? Going back to being smothered? Rebellion had her planting her hands on her hips, making it feel as if she was speaking up for herself for what seemed like the first time. “I’m not leaving.”
He stopped and glanced up. “Oh?”
As quickly as it came, her steam ran ou
t and she dropped her arms.
He went back to tying his boots. “So ye’ve changed yere mind. Ye don’t want to sit on yere rock?”
Her heart soared. “You’re really going to let me have my day?”
He grinned at her and stood. “Part of the day. I texted my brother that we’ll be back by supper.”
She squeezed her hands together. “Thank you.”
“I smell bacon. Can you play the satisfied bride for the missus below?”
Heat poured into Sadie’s face. She still couldn’t believe the woman had bought that they were a couple, even for a second, even a little bit. Ross—incredibly handsome and incredibly nice—could date anyone he liked. Sadie didn’t belittle herself over her appearance; she liked who she was, had accepted she would never be beautiful. She was a realist. She peeked over at her fake husband. Handsome didn’t come close to describing him. He was more, much more. He was nearly perfect.
She ducked her head. “Yes. I can pretend we’re together.” But how could he?
“Good, because I’m hungry.”
They sat at the owner’s table and ate their breakfast with the woman of the house looking on. Ross played it up to a tee and Sadie could see he had a mischievous streak. Whenever the missus checked in on them, Ross would pour it on thick, either kissing Sadie’s fingertips or making love to her with his eyes.
Sadie, though she enjoyed every second, couldn’t help but blush all the way through her porridge and bacon.
* * *
Oliver Middleton rubbed sleep from his face and walked into the small kitchen of Duncan’s Den. On the counter, he found fresh scones, sausages under foil, and hot tea—very thoughtful. He rushed through his meal. He’d been online late last night with his client and never made it to the quilting retreat to see how Sadie was doing.
He was worried about her; she’d been dealt a shitload lately. Last month her terrible diagnosis and this month, Gigi’s death. Pain cut through him about his grandmother, about Sadie, about everything, but he squelched it. Taking care of his sister, making sure she was okay, was his number one priority. He’d promised Gigi. He hated that his grandmother had made him vow to keep it a secret from Sadie. He could tell her the truth now, but it wouldn’t make any difference. It wouldn’t bring Gigi back. But if Sadie had known beforehand, she might’ve been prepared for their grandmother’s death.
The Trouble with Scotland Page 3