My Scottish Summer

by Connie Brockway

  Ann did as he asked, her heart pounding at the base of her throat. She had waited a lifetime for this moment. Yet a chilly realization tempered the excitement singing through her. Recovery of the jewels would sever her connection with Iain. It was bound to happen, no matter what, she assured herself. She could not make time stop. She could not stretch summer into an eternity. Midnight was about to find Cinderella. And she hadn’t even danced with the prince.

  Iain examined the stone slab. “There’s a gap here, between the stone and the wall. And I think—”

  “What do you think?”

  “Patience, lass.” Iain rested his flashlight on the wooden platform and turned back to the stone slab. He lifted the selkie ornament away from the wall, revealing a cavity and a dark mound within. Ann tried to breathe, but the air only eased into the top of her lungs.

  Iain set the stone on the platform, wood groaning beneath its weight. He reached into the cavity and pulled out a leather bag. The flashlight illuminated his smile when he turned to face her. “Now what do you suppose is in here, lass?”

  “Aren’t you going to look?”

  “No, lass.” He winked at her. “I thought we would take a look together.”

  She stood on the step, holding her breath while Iain walked toward her. Wood shrieked as the boards collapsed beneath him. She caught his startled look in the beam of the flashlight, before he fell out of the light. Ann reached out to save him, the flashlight tumbling from her hand. It smacked the step at her feet. Her fingers grazed his arm before Iain slipped away from her, plunging down into the darkness.

  “Iain!” She snatched the flashlight from the floor and directed the beam toward the landing. The light grazed the ragged ends of the rotted boards and a gaping hole where Iain had fallen. She stepped onto the remnants of the platform, wood groaning, shifting beneath her weight.

  “Ann, stay where you are!” Iain shouted, his voice echoing oddly against the stones.

  He was alive. Thank God, he was alive. She knelt on the boards and peered through the ragged hole. The wide beam of her flashlight swept over the black wall of a cave before finding Iain. He was clinging to an outcropping in the stone wall near the ceiling of the cave, the leather bag clenched tightly in his hand. Water swirled around him, lapping at his chin. “Are you all right?”

  In spite of the situation, he smiled up at her. “Cold. But nothing is broken. Still, I think I am going to need a wee bit of help getting out of here.”

  “Can you get to the other steps?”

  “No, lass. I’m on the back side of them.”

  She lay on the platform, rested her flashlight on the edge of the hole, and reached her hand toward Iain. “Take my hand.”

  “It’s too dangerous.” He slipped along the wall before he braced himself once more against the strong current. “I could pull you in.”

  “The tide is rising, Iain. By the time I can get help, the water will be up to the ceiling, which means it will be over your head. And even a selkie needs to breathe.” She reached for him. “Give me your hand.”

  “I’ll tread water beneath the platform until help can get to me.”

  “The current is too strong. It will sweep you deeper into the cave.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “You’ll manage to drown.”

  Iain fought the current, inching his way along the wall until he regained the ground he had lost. He lifted the leather bag toward her. “Take the treasure.”

  “To blazes with the treasure! Give me your hand.”

  A grin slowly slid along his lips. “You’ve worked too hard to let this chance disappear, lass. Take the bag.”

  She swore under her breath, then stretched to take the bag from his outstretched hand. She tossed it behind her, the bundle landing with a thump on the step. “Give me your hand.”

  Iain glanced around as though looking for an alternative in the faint light shining from the flashlight above him. He shook his head, then looked up at her. “I’m too heavy for you, lass. I cannot take the chance of you falling in here with me.”

  “Iain Matheson, take my hand this minute, or I swear I’ll jump in there, and we’ll both drown.” Even as she spoke the words, the truth of them sang through her with a sweet clarity. There was no sense in trying to deny a truth that kept staring her straight in the eye. She loved Iain Matheson, deeply, completely. She would rather die here and now with him than live knowing she had done nothing at all to save him.

  He stared at her, his expression betraying the turmoil within him. “Ann, I—”

  “I’ll do it, Iain. Take my hand, or I will jump in there beside you. And I warn you, I will not be at all happy with you. So you’d just better take my hand now.”

  He released his breath in a quick sigh. “If you feel yourself falling, let go.”

  “Confound it, Iain,” she said, trying to reach him. “We don’t have much time.”

  He mumbled something about stubborn Americans, then reached toward her. She gripped his hand with both hands and pulled while he propelled himself through the water. She felt him surge upward, while she fought to keep from slipping headfirst into the hole. Cold droplets splashed her face as he threw his arm over the planks beside her. She tugged on his arm while he struggled to pull himself onto the platform. Wood groaned beneath them when his weight settled upon the remnants of the landing.

  “Come on, lass,” Iain said, grabbing her arm.

  Together they stepped from the platform onto the bottom stair just as another plank gave way and tumbled into the water below. Iain clutched her to his chest, his arms steel bands around her, locking her against his big body. “Let’s get out of here, before the stairs give way as well.”

  He bent and retrieved the leather bag before hurrying up the stairs, holding her arm as though he were afraid he might lose her should he slacken his grip. She followed him up the stairs, grateful for the strong grip on her arm steadying her wobbly legs, silently giving thanks for surviving near disaster.

  The soft light cast by the wall sconces embraced them as they stumbled from the alcove into the drawing room. Iain pressed his back against a panel of the oak wainscoting and dragged her into his arms. His chest rose and fell against her cheek with each quick breath he took, his heart thudding in the same erratic race as hers. After a long while he said, “My sweet, brave Ann. You scared me half to death, lass. I thought for sure you were going to come sliding in after me.”

  She turned her face against his chest, feeling his warmth radiate through the wet cotton of his sweater. When she met his gaze, her breath stilled in her throat. The hunger in his eyes burned with an intensity she could feel, like the sun on a hot summer day. He wanted her. Here and now. She saw his need, recognized the questions simmering deep within his eyes.

  From a secret pool of longing lingering within her, an answer rose to meet the questions in his eyes. He had once asked her if she had any regrets in life. At that time she had imagined the greatest regret might be to become involved with this man. Now she realized the greatest regret would be to walk away without ever knowing the reality of her dreams. Strands of sensation slipped around her, catching her in a delicate web of feeling that she could no longer deny.

  Ann threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, allowing him to taste all the passion for him she had kept tightly clenched inside. Iain cinched his arms around her and held her as though he would still be holding her when the last star burned from the heavens. The hunger in him raged without disguise. He opened his mouth over hers, kissing her as though he took his every sustenance from her. In his arms she felt transformed. Gone was the nice, practical teacher from Chicago. In her place stood a temptress, wanton with the need for this man, only this man.

  Together they pulled and tugged at the clothes that kept man from woman, until finally nothing barred the touch of skin against skin. When he drew her close against him, she sighed with pleasure at the soft brush of masculine hair against her sensitive skin. Never in her
life had she felt this free, this alive, this frantic with the need to touch, to kiss, to possess. She slid her hands over his shoulders, down his chest, thick muscles quivering beneath her touch, as though he too were trapped in this vortex of need. She had never done anything like this before. Yet this man had altered her, had transformed the ordinary into the extraordinary, the timid female into a siren.

  The look in his eyes burned away the qualms she had always felt about the quality of her slender curves. Iain provided no room for doubts. The look in his eyes told her precisely what he thought of her face and form. For some reason she could not begin to understand, he looked at her as though she were the most desirable woman he had ever gazed upon.

  He slid his hands over the curves of her hips. “Do you have any idea how long I have been waiting for you?”

  “Two weeks?” she whispered, her voice ragged with need.

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “A lifetime.”

  As if to prove how much he wanted her, he flowed down her body, stroking her, kissing her, a hungry flame licking over her body, heating her, escalating the need within her until she feared she might come apart beneath his touch. Finally, when she thought she might die for wanting him, he lifted her into his arms and laid her down upon the cool, pale green silk of the nearest sofa. The first hard thrust of his body into hers nearly sent her over the edge.

  She gripped his shoulders while she rose to meet his every downward thrust, pleasure expanding inside of her, welling upward until she could no longer contain it. Sensation ripped through her like light refracting through a diamond. Distantly she heard her name escape his lips while the pleasure gripped her, sending shudder after shudder rippling through her body. It was as if she had only been existing until this moment, until this man. In a distant part of her brain she acknowledged that they had used no precautions against pregnancy. Still, she was willing to take the consequences.

  After a long while he lifted his head and smiled down at her. He smoothed a damp lock of hair from her cheek, then kissed her nose. “It’s nice to know there are a few things in life that are truly worth waiting for.”

  “You have a way about you, Iain Matheson.” She brushed her hand over the smooth skin of his shoulder. “A way of making me forget about all the things I once thought important.”

  “This is important.” He shifted in her arms, pulling away from her. “And it’s just the beginning.”

  She sucked in her breath when he lifted her into his arms, settling her high against his bare chest. “Just the beginning?”

  “Aye, lass.” He winked at her. “I’m not about to stop with just a wee bit of an appetizer.”

  “An appetizer?”

  “Aye.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I think we should start in the shower.”

  Her imagination flooded her mind with naughty images. Her body tingled in response. She slipped her arms around his neck and snuggled against him while he carried her into the bedroom, thick muscles shifting against her breasts. It was so nice to learn that at times reality was better than dreams.

  Along while later, Ann lay in bed, her head nestled on Iain’s shoulder, feeling as sated as a starving beggar who has just polished off a twelve-course meal. The smoldering scent of his skin filled her every breath. The lush masculine heat of him warmed her. How glorious it would be to sleep like this every night and to awaken in his arms every morning. Unfortunately he had not mentioned a word about the future. She drew a serpentine pattern through the hair on his chest, while she considered the possibilities she might face with this man.

  He brushed his hand up and down her arm. “There is something we really should do.”

  She lifted her head to meet his gaze. “Again?”

  He laughed, the dark rumble rising from deep in his chest. “My goodness, Professor, I’m thinking you’re a bit insatiable. I wonder if I can manage to keep you satisfied.”

  Ann liked the sound of that. It implied he intended to try. “I have a feeling you won’t have any trouble.”

  Iain lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist, sending tingles scattering along her nerves. “I was thinking of the treasure. I thought we might take a look at it.”

  “The treasure.” Ann shook her head, amazed at how thoroughly he had chased every thought of work out of her head. “I completely forgot about it.”

  “You stay here.” He threw the covers back and rolled out of bed. “I’ll get it.”

  She watched him leave, admiring the view. When he returned, she lapped up the sight of him, like a kitten who had fallen into a pot of cream.

  He paused by the bed, handed her the leather bag, and stood looking at her. Light from the wall sconces flowed over him, exploiting the sheer male beauty of his face, sliding lovingly over his broad shoulders, tangling in the hair that covered his chest, spilling over the sleek skin of his hip. Looking at him, she could believe he was indeed a creature not of mortal blood—a selkie who had come to her from the sea, a mythical lover, a man she could no longer resist, this was Iain.

  “If you keep looking at me in that sultry way, I’ll forget all about this two-hundred-year-old mystery.”

  She laughed and took the bag. She had never been accused of doing anything sultry until she met this man. It gave her a delicious feeling of power. She pulled open the drawstring and dumped the contents out of the wet leather pouch, spilling emeralds and diamonds across the sheet. A necklace, a bracelet, and a ring glittered in the light. The jewelry was more beautiful than the portrait had promised, the large stones shimmering with fire. They were obviously worth a fortune. Unfortunately there was nothing else in the bag. The cross was not with them. “It’s not here.”

  Iain sat on the bed beside her, slipped his arm around her shoulders, and held her close. “I’m sorry, lass.”

  “It’s all right, really.” She leaned against him, oddly indifferent to the loss of this particular dream. What had seemed monumentally important before this moment now paled with what she had found on Dunmarin. “Still, I wonder what Adair did with the cross?”

  “Perhaps he hid it somewhere else in the castle.” He hugged her close. “We might be able to find it over the next fifty or sixty years if you care to look.”

  She looked up at him, afraid to read more into his words than what might be behind them. “Wee might be able to find it?”

  “Aye. And there are amazing archaeological sites on Dunmarin. I could probably keep you busy for years just exploring the island. If you get bored with Dunmarin, we can always go off poking about elsewhere. Still, I suppose if you want to remain in Chicago, I will just have to buy a place there. But we could still come back to Dunmarin every summer.”

  Ann stared at him. “Are you asking me to… I mean, you seem to have the future all planned, and I… are you?”

  “You get a little crinkle between your brows when you are trying to figure something out.” He smoothed his fingertip over her brow. “Do you mean to say you still don’t know how much I love you?”

  Her heart bumped into the wall of her chest. “You love me?”

  “Aye, lass. And I expect a proper proposal of marriage from you.”

  Ann nearly choked. “A proposal of marriage from me?”

  “My bonnie Ann, I cannot imagine you are the type of woman to take advantage of a poor lad.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I was thinking after you seduced me this way, you would be making an honest man of me.”

  “Me seduce you!”

  “Aye. You were the one who kissed me first.”

  “I did not… well… maybe I did.” She saw the glint of mischief in his eyes and realized he was teasing her. Again. “You’ve been trying to seduce me since the first day we met.”

  “It’s my selkie blood. I recognized my mate when I saw you. You’re mine. And I intend to keep it that way.” Iain cinched his arms around her and dragged her down on top of him. “Any arguments, my bonnie Ann?”

  She slipped her arms around his neck, snugglin
g against the long length of his powerful body. “None at all, my maddening Highlander.”

  Epilogue

  “And one day you will meet your soul mate, lad. I You’ll know her the moment you see her.”

  Ann heard Iain’s soft voice spill into the hall as she approached the nursery. She had just tucked their twin daughters into bed in the room next door. Sarah and Louise were four and determined to stretch their bedtime stories out for as long as they could coax Mommy into reading. Finally both little heads were nestled upon their pillows.

  “Now she might be stubborn at first; your mama took a wee bit of persuading. But I finally convinced her I was the only man she could ever want. Remember, when you want something with all of your heart, go after it.”

  She paused in the doorway of the nursery, her heart expanding with the sight that greeted her. Iain sat on a rocker near the crib, cradling their ten-month-old son in his arms. His dark head was bent over the infant, while he spoke his own version of a bedtime story to young Patrick.

  “You see, it is Dugald’s legacy to each firstborn male of the laird. A selkie he was, and selkies always know what they want when they see it.” Iain glanced up and caught her watching him. He winked at her, a grin sliding across his lips, the pure love in his eyes reaching her across the distance. “Ah, lad, it’s a joy it is, to find her, to woo her, to claim her for all your days. When you find her, hold on to her with all your might, and never let her go.”

  Ann crossed the distance between them and rested her hand on her husband’s shoulder. She looked down into their son’s sleeping face, seeing an image of Iain there. She bent and kissed Patrick’s brow, the sweet powdery scent of him filling her nostrils.

  “I think you have managed to put him to sleep,” she whispered, squeezing Iain’s thick shoulder.

  “Aye.” Iain stood with his bundle and carefully laid the child in the crib.

  After turning off the light, he slipped his arm around Ann’s shoulders and walked with her to their chamber. Moonlight flowed through the windowpanes, drawing them to the view of the beach and the ocean beyond. Although they spent several weeks each year in Chicago, Dunmarin was now her home. In a very real sense it felt as though she had always lived here. Iain liked to say it was because her soul had finally returned to the place where she belonged.