My Scottish Summer

by Connie Brockway

  “I can’t think of a reason in the world for you to be nervous. I promised I wouldn’t touch you for a week—a full seven days—and I always keep my promises.”

  “I hope that means you haven’t changed your mind about me taking pictures of the interiors. You did say I could go anywhere I want in the castle.”

  “Feel free to go anywhere you want, except into the rooms I keep locked.”

  “And how many of those are there?”

  “Two. My office and my bedroom.”

  Neither of which interested her. “There’s only one bedroom I’d like to get into, and it’s not yours.”

  “How could I have forgotten?” He leaned forward to cut another piece of steak. “You lost our little poker game just so you could have the privilege of finding the secret bedroom.”

  “Why does that annoy you so much? I made my intentions perfectly clear the first time we met. I came here to photograph the inside of your castle, something no one has ever done before, and now I’m going to have the privilege of doing exactly what I want.”

  “Does the end justify the means?”

  “Don’t go throwing that game of strip poker in my face. I had no idea you were going to impose something like that on me until after we’d made our deal. You could have chosen a regular game of poker, but no, you wanted to humiliate me—”

  “I wanted to look at your body; that’s why I chose the game I did. I wanted to see every inch of you because I like looking at you. That was my only motive. Humiliating you didn’t enter the picture.”

  He shoved up from the table. “You’re going to be here for a week, Emily. You can pretend to hate me for the next seven days if you want, but I assure you, this week would be a hell of a lot more enjoyable if you’d come down off your high horse and realize that you enjoy my company every bit as much as I enjoy yours.”

  With that said, he tossed his linen napkin onto his plate, favored her with a maddeningly seductive smile and walked from the dining room.

  It wasn’t until she sat all alone that she realized he was right. She did enjoy his company. He wrung every possible emotion out of her and made her feel really and truly alive.

  And if truth be told, she enjoyed the way he watched her. In turn, she enjoyed watching him.

  Colin hid in a dark corner of the stark, cold dungeon and watched Emily. By rights he should be in the distillery working, but he hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything or anyone besides Emily since she’d arrived yesterday morning. She was the distraction he’d needed for years. A beautiful distraction, and it was going to be hell keeping his hands off of her.

  She moved slowly, touching the rack, the manacles, the cold stone walls where dates and names had been etched hundreds of years before. She was dressed in walking shoes, jeans, and a bright green sweater, the same emerald color as her eyes. Her hips swayed. So did her breasts, and not for the first time he wondered how it would feel to cup them in the palms of his hands. Soft. Very soft, topped off by taut, pebbled nipples that he’d like to squeeze gently between his thumb and index finger, then suck into his mouth to savor, to tease.

  But he couldn’t touch her. That was the hell of it. He’d made a promise—a foolish one, but a promise nonetheless. He might not come from a family of honorable men, but he was trying damned hard to change the image of the Dunbar line before it died away with him.

  Since honorable men didn’t hide in the dark to watch beautiful women, he stepped from the alcove. “Looking for something?”

  She spun around, and he could see a flash of surprised shock, perhaps fright, in her face. And then the look softened into a smile.

  “You weren’t watching me again, were you?”

  “I could tell you no, but that wouldn’t be the truth.”

  He walked across the dungeon and leaned casually against a wall. “Are you still looking for the secret bedroom?”

  “I am, but I’m having no luck.”

  She could look forever, but she’d never find it. He was the only one who knew the truth about the secret bedroom, and he’d told himself he’d never tell a soul. Still, he didn’t want to dash her hopes. Why shouldn’t she enjoy the legends, myths, and beliefs surrounding the Dunbar family, just as the villagers did?

  “Do you even know what you’re looking for?”

  She laughed. “No. I assume it’s something grand and hidden behind a mysterious door that will fly open if I find the right thing to push.”

  “Could be.”

  “You’re not going to give me a hint, are you?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think, however, that you’ll find it down here.”

  “I didn’t think so, but I thought I’d look while I was scouting out places to use as backdrops for my desserts.”

  “For some reason I don’t picture luscious desserts finding their way down here any more than romantic trysts or secret bedrooms.”

  “You have to have a vivid imagination to put everything together, even in the best of places.”

  “Which one of your desserts would you put here?”

  “Something new. I don’t know. Maybe sweet chocolate crepes filled with fresh mixed berries, served on a cloud of thick whipped cream, drizzled with raspberry sauce, and garnished with entwined dark and white chocolate hearts.”

  “Just what every imprisoned man dreamed of having while he rotted in a thirteenth-century dungeon.”

  “Think pleasure, not pain.”

  He’d been thinking pleasure ever since he’d met her. He didn’t even care what she wanted from him any longer. The secret room didn’t matter. Photographing the interiors of his castle didn’t matter. He liked her and would give her anything she wanted—except his heart and his soul. Dunbar men didn’t have those to give.

  “So, what are you going to call this latest dessert of yours?”

  “I was thinking Locked in Love’s Embrace.”

  Colin laughed, the sound echoing through the stark stone room. “People actually buy stuff like that?”

  She hit him with a look of righteous indignation. “I don’t laugh at your whisky.”

  “That’s because it’s straightforward. It’s strong and potent. That’s what a man needs down here.”

  “All right, loan me a bottle of your best, and I’ll photograph it with my dessert.”

  “Only if I can watch.”

  A slight smile tilted her lips. “You have a thing about watching, don’t you?”

  “I have a thing about touching, too. Unfortunately, my hands are tied for the next six days.”

  “You don’t have to keep them tied on my account”

  Ah, she wanted him to touch her, to drive her wild. But he couldn’t. Not now.

  “I’m honor-bound. I promised not to touch, and I firmly intend to stick to it. Besides, if I could touch you, I might lose interest in everything else, and then I’d miss out on the talks we’ve been having. I’ve enjoyed learning about your business, your family life, and everything else about you far more than I ever imagined.”

  She looked overwhelmed by his statement. Surprised. Shocked. Hell, he was surprised and shocked, too.

  And then she strolled toward him, her hips and breasts swaying slightly. He was still leaning against the thick stone wall as she walked up good and close, stretched up on tiptoe, and planted a warm, soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?” he asked, trying to keep control of his on-fire emotions as well as his hands, when she pulled away.

  “For talking. I’ve enjoyed it, too.”

  Apparently Colin liked to talk. He’d done it nonstop for nearly seven days, and even though Emily had been interested in their discussions, there was so much more she wanted from him.

  Darn it, she wanted Colin to touch her! A woman could only work and talk so long in the presence of a gorgeous hunk before she had every right to get frustrated. And she was frustrated now.

  She’d never met a man who could make he
r want him merely by glancing up at her and smiling while he read the morning paper. Then there were those moments when he’d walk up from the distillery smelling like peat smoke, come into the kitchen and swipe a piece of cheese or fruit or one of her candies, toss her a wink, then disappear up to his room for a shower.

  Seven days of being around him and not having him touch her had been torture. Seven days of his smiles, his friendly banter, his all-out sexiness and self-assuredness, had planted him firmly in her head and—lo and behold— in her heart.

  Thoughts of him haunted her days as she worked in the kitchen, went into the village for groceries, and searched for the secret room. Dreams of him wakened her in the middle of the night, when she found herself rolling over and wishing he were lying by her side, keeping her company as he did when they shared their meals, when they talked and laughed, when he kept her caught up in his life.

  She felt a closeness with Colin that she’d never known with any other man.

  And she wanted him to touch her. She’d tired of his promise, tired of him smiling at her but never moving toward her. That was going to come to a screeching halt today—she had a plan. A good plan. A seductive plan.

  If Colin Dunbar’s resolve didn’t crumble after she put this plan in motion, something was dreadfully wrong— with both of them.

  At precisely eight P.M., Colin walked into the dining room, and Emily relinquished control of her heart and stomach to the butterflies that had taken up residence inside. They were flying fast, doing dips and rollovers that made her entire body quiver—not from nervousness, but from need. Every day she wanted him more.

  As usual, he was stunning. While he wore bulky wool sweaters and jeans at breakfast, and a polo shirt with his jeans for lunch and tea, he’d come down to dinner every night in lightweight wool dress slacks—usually charcoal—and a cashmere sweater. Tonight his sweater was the palest cream, and it hung loosely over the hard, muscular angles of his body. If she hadn’t already sold her soul to him, she might sell it again, just so she could have a chance to reach out and touch those muscles and angles and anything else she could reach.

  She hadn’t seen him since early morning, and as he walked toward her, she realized just how much she’d missed him during the day. This morning, as part of her plan to seduce him, bewitch him, and otherwise drive him wild, she’d gone to Inverness and purchased a long, skimpy dress that was meant for one thing and one thing only: seduction.

  Considering the fire dancing in Colin’s eyes as he gazed at her now, her plan was going according to schedule. Considering the way he shoved his hands into his pants pockets, she knew she looked mighty tempting, and his hands-off stance might crumble at any moment.

  “Did you get everything you needed in Inverness?” he asked, circling her slowly, getting a 360-degree view of her body and its skin-hugging black leather gown, with a slit that ran from hem to thigh.

  “I did. Mushrooms. Shrimp. Asparagus. I also picked up this dress. I thought you might like it.”

  He withdrew one hand from his pocket and rubbed his fingers over his smooth, freshly shaved chin as he studied more of the skimpy dress. “Rest assured, Emily, I like it. Quite a lot.”

  She smiled softly, glad that he approved. That would make her plan of seduction a little easier.

  “And what about the cold meals I left you? I know our bargain was for me to cook fine food, which to me means freshly prepared, but I hope you didn’t mind pulling the plates out of the refrigerator.”

  “I didn’t mind.”

  He stopped circling and stood in front of her now, hot, needy eyes staring down at her four-inch, strappy black leather sandals, not to mention her candy-apple-red toe-nails. Those big dark sapphires that sparkled in his eyes meandered slowly up her sleek and soft leather halter dress, hesitating for a moment at her knees, her hips, her waist, then taking a long, leisurely stroll over her breasts. At last he found her eyes.

  She watched his powerful chest rise and fall beneath his sweater as he drew in a breath. “You look… beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I’ve decided business suits are too cumbersome when I’m working. Dresses like this give me more freedom to move.”

  He scanned the long, foodless length of the dining room table, then turned toward her and raised a questioning brow. “And what kind of work are you doing tonight? Obviously it has nothing to do with feeding the man who won your services for a week.”

  “I haven’t forgotten your ravenous appetite. In fact, I’ve whipped up some delectable appetizers that will more than satisfy your hunger.”

  “And where, pray tell, is this food?”

  “Upstairs. In a rather delightful room I discovered today. My camera’s set up. The food’s ready for you to enjoy. All that’s missing is you and me.” She smiled and held out her hand. “Come. I’ll show you the way.”

  Just as she’d hoped, he reached toward her, then stopped when his fingers were only inches away. His grinning eyes looked down on her as he slowly pulled his hands back. Obviously he wasn’t quite yet ready to go back on his word. “Why don’t we walk side by side?”

  “All right.”

  They walked silently through the great hall and up the circular stairs to the third floor, strolling down another hallway and up another set of steps until they reached a round tower room with cathedral-shaped stained-glass windows. They weren’t just any windows, however. Each one depicted a man wooing a woman—from courtship to… well, to advanced stages of knowing and loving each other very, very thoroughly.

  “I thought this tower would be the perfect backdrop for one of my desserts,” Emily said. It was the perfect place for a lot of things, she thought, like falling in love— if she could just get Colin interested.

  Instead he walked around the tower room, his hands folded behind his back as he inspected her tripod and camera, the lighting equipment, and the table laden with covered dishes. “What’s under here?”

  “Your dinner, and a few candies I whipped up yesterday. I’ve called them ‘To Die For.’” He lifted the cover and took a peek at the chocolate confections. “They’re truffles,” she told him, “but not just any truffles. I’ve filled the inside with cream, dark chocolate, butter, and Dunbar whisky—from your private reserve, of course. They’re delicious. Would you like to try one?”

  “After dinner, maybe.”

  Maybe she’d feed them to him after dinner, then kiss the chocolate from his lips.

  Goodness, her thoughts amazed her. Wasn’t it less than ten days ago that she’d been not the least bit interested in men, only business? And look at her now. Work all but forgotten, she was out to seduce a tall, dark, and handsome Highlander. One who wasn’t cooperating at all.

  No, Colin was circling the room again, the truffles, his dinner, and his companion not capturing his attention quite the way she’d planned. Did she have to literally throw herself at him? Wasn’t temptation enough? She was a businesswoman, for heaven’s sake! She’d never seduced a man in her life.

  This was going all wrong; he was much more interested in the dangerously sensual stained-glass windows than he was in her.

  She sighed heavily, and he turned around and almost devoured her with his stare.

  That was much, much better.

  “I think you need one of my chocolates,” she said, plucking one of her favorites from a plate. “Open,” she said, and he smiled as she walked toward him. Slowly. Letting her hips sway just the slightest bit.

  His lips parted as she held the truffle toward his mouth. He took only half, and she was forced to pop the rest between her lips and onto her tongue. They stared at each other as the richness melted in their mouths, as he tucked his hands into his pants pockets, as her heart raced.

  If her seduction efforts weren’t working on him, they were definitely working on herself.

  “Do you like it?” she asked, licking the mixture of whisky and chocolate from her lips.

  Intense eyes burned into hers. “I like it very much
. All of it.”

  She circled around him, just as he’d circled her, looking at the contour of his body, the breadth of his shoulders, the slimness of his hips. The way he continually had to catch his breath.

  “Do you like this room, too?”

  He laughed. “I got quite an education coming here as a boy.”

  “I would have thought this place would be off limits to a child.”

  “Only if you got caught. I usually came in the middle of the night when people were asleep or… occupied. I could do all the looking I wanted.”

  She laughed at his declaration. “You didn’t really learn about sex here, did you?”

  “I learned that I wanted to know a lot more about it. In college I thought I’d learned everything there was to know, but I was wrong. And now I try to learn something new whenever I can.” He casually leaned against one of the thick windows, a woman’s naked, stained-glass breast peeking over his shoulder. “What about you?”

  “All I know is what I learned from a chef who dumped me.” It had stopped hurting years ago, and she could joke about it now. “He wasn’t nearly as imaginative as the man who designed these windows.”

  “There’s been no one since?”

  She shook her head. “Only my work.”

  “Work never kept anyone warm at night.”

  “No, but I’ve bought some lovely down comforters, and I snuggle up with them while I write my stories.”

  “They provide warmth, but where’s the inspiration?”

  “That’s what I get from my travels, from places like this castle of yours, and from people willing to tell me stories.” She looked around her at the lustful illustrations. “There must be dozens of stories you could tell me about this room and the people who’ve used it, and I’m not thinking about daydreaming boys.”

  “I’m sure I could dredge something up and tell you later, maybe in front of a fire, with a glass of whisky.”