My Scottish Summer

by Connie Brockway

  They were silent then, and Maddie leaned her head against his shoulder. “Better loved ye canna be,” she thought. If only that were true. Midsummer madness would fade with the first frost. But what memories she’d take home. She listened to his heartbeat and tightened her arms around his waist. I will enjoy this moment, this sunrise.

  “Look,” he said softly. “The light has hit the first of the water.”

  She turned to follow his gaze and smiled. He’d been right about the colors, too. The foam at the crest of the waves was a luminous white, the water below a slate blue that shimmered into silver as the light found it. Maddie sighed, feeling close to tears.

  “I knew ye’d want to see this,” Iain said, his lips at her ear.

  She turned to him. “Yes,” she said and pulled his mouth to hers for a short kiss. “Thank you. I’ll never forget this.”

  He laughed against her lips. “I’d best take ye home, lassie, or I will no’ answer for my actions.” He kissed her again. “Or… Maddie, will ye come back to with me to my room with me and…” He pressed against her hips. “Maddie, will ye?”

  She smiled up into his eyes and nodded. “Yes.”

  His phone was ringing as he opened the door, and Iain threw the blanket on the bed and swore. “Who the hell is calling me at this hour?” He picked up the phone, then turned pale as he listened. “What? When? Which hospital? All right, I’m on my way. Ye have my mobile number, right? I’m coming.” He hung up and looked at her with a stricken expression. “I have to go, Maddie. It’s my father. He’s had a heart attack. He’s in hospital in Inverness. I have to leave at once.” He kicked off his shoes, pulled his shirt out of his kilt, and unfastened the brooch that held the plaid, tossing it on a chair.

  “What can I do?”

  “Can ye make me some tea while I shower? I canna go like this.”

  Maddie made tea, then helped him throw some clothes into a suitcase. He paid little attention to what she packed, and she piled jeans and slacks and a dark suit, just in case, adding shirts and a sweater. He tossed in toiletries and zipped the bag closed, then looked at her.

  “I’m sorry, Maddie. I have to go.”

  “Of course. But Iain, you haven’t slept at all. Will you be all right?”

  “I’ll be fine. Ye’ll tell Magnus and the others for me? I’ll call and tell them when I’ll be back.”

  She nodded. “I hope your father is all right.”

  He didn’t answer, just leaned and kissed her deeply, then picked up the bag. At the door he paused. “If I don’t see ye again, Maddie, I… I wish ye well, lass. And I’ll always regret not… I’ll miss ye, Maddie Breen.”

  “And I you. Drive carefully, Iain.”

  He gave her a ghost of a smile. “I will. Take care of our castle for me, aye?”

  When he closed the door behind him, Maddie sank into a chair, watching the dust motes that swam in the diffused light coming through the sheer lace panels. She put a hand to her throat and tried not to cry.

  Iain shielded his eyes against the sun’s glare. He’d stolen an hour to drive over to Culloden, to walk the battlefield that never failed to move him. He stood before the monument stones that marked where the clans had fallen, then moved through the flocks of summer tourists and headed back to Inverness. His father would live. He’d been in intensive care for three days, unaware that his wife and three children were there. Iain had comforted his stepsisters, telling them that their father was strong and would pull through. Thank God he’d been right. And then, late Tuesday night, his father had rallied and been pronounced on the mend. He’d been his usual charming self when he’d seen Iain, asking his wife what the hell she’d done by calling his son and telling Iain he wouldn’t inherit anything yet. Iain watched his stepmother try to placate his father, then turned on his heel and left. He would go back now and face them again, then go back to the hotel and sleep. And then go home in the morning to Skye, to Duntober. And Maddie.

  He couldn’t get her out of his mind. He’d tried, on the long drive here, to convince himself that what he felt was lust and some mild fondness for a charming stranger, but he’d not been very persuasive. And in those hours at the hospital, waiting to find out if his father would live, he’d had a lot of time to think about his own life. What did he want? Not to be alone forever. Not to be in the kind of marriage he’d already had. Nor one like that his father and stepmother shared. He wanted more. Could he love anyone again? He’d failed once already.

  It still hurt. Iain looked through the windscreen at the A9, but he saw the note, so carelessly left on the foyer table. “Darling,” she’d written, “Iain the Workhorse won’t be home for hours. I’ve gone to get champagne. Be in bed and be ready when I come home.” And he still saw her face when, enraged, he’d confronted her. He’d expected tears and denial, not her cold look and shrugged shoulders. “What did you expect?” she’d asked. “That I would wait while you built an empire? Marriages need attention too, Iain, not just businesses. I was bored.”

  Bored, he thought. He hadn’t been. He’d been working as hard as he could to build the business so that he could give her everything she wanted, so that someday their children would be raised in comfort as both of them had. He knew how to work; he’d proved that much to himself. And he now had something worth his energy in Duntober. But work, even Duntober, wasn’t enough anymore. He knew how to have a light dalliance, no strings attached. He’d had several in the years since his divorce; he’d not wanted anything more. He knew women he was fond of; and one or two who, with little persuasion, he suspected, would be happy to make their relationship much more. But each time he’d stopped short.

  And now? He took the exit that would lead him to the hospital. Now he wanted what Magnus had—a loving family, a wife who adored him, children. Maybe grandchildren someday. He wanted to be eighty years old and tell the world how charmed his life had been and watch his wife smile at him as he said it.

  He wanted Maddie. He didn’t know the details of how he’d make that happen, but they didn’t matter. Iain felt a burden lift off his shoulders. Now he knew where he was going.

  Maddie pushed her hair back from her face and sighed. Wednesday afternoon. She’d be leaving in four days. Her flight was Sunday night at six, but she’d have to drive to Glasgow beforehand, so three days left on Skye. The Trotternish Games would begin on Friday night with a ceilidh, a musical evening, at the hotel, then continue the next two days with the other competitions, culminating this year in the horse race. She wouldn’t be here. She’d be somewhere on the road when Iain rode Blaven to victory or defeat. He’d called every day about Duntober, talking to Magnus and sometimes to Sara, telling them the latest news of his father’s condition, each time asking them to give her a message. But he’d not once talked to her. And so she’d go home with bittersweet memories of a tall blond man with deep blue eyes, a contagious laugh, and a memorable body. The most remarkable man she’d ever known. She closed her eyes, remembering his laugh, the way he listened to her, the way he’d danced with Derek and Keith, the feel of his lips on hers. But it was obviously not to be.

  She had her job, and it would help her get over this little madness called Iain MacDonald. She looked across the Great Hall of Duntober to where Sara and Keith pored over the blueprints with Magnus. The four of them had tried to replace Iain at Duntober, overseeing the work, but there were guests and relatives at the Trotternish who had come for Magnus’s party and stayed for the Games, and they’d not been here as much as they’d hoped. Sara’s parents had left, promising to be back for the weekend, but even without them, dinner had been an event with at least thirty people. After dinner each night Maddie had retreated to her room to work, or simply to think. Her calls to Larry had had a distant tone to them. He berated her for not being there, but there was no substance to his anger, and he hung up leaving Maddie with the distinct feeling that she was forgotten as soon as the receiver hit the cradle. It didn’t bother her, and that bothered her. What did she have
if she didn’t have her job?

  At least the wind had stopped. Two days and nights of high winds had left Duntober a mess, but there had been little real damage. She, Sara, and Keith had insisted on accompanying Magnus when he said he’d spend the day here and see what he could do to lead the men. The week had not been a complete loss. The driveway repairs had been completed, and two truckloads of lumber had arrived. The wooden steps had been finished yesterday, and it was now possible to climb from the newly created service entrance to the Great Hall and, on the other side of the castle, descend to the terrace that extended from the courtyard. Iain would be pleased, she thought, then sighed again as she flipped her sketchpad closed. She’d been like a madwoman, drawing without conscious plan, trying to capture him. She’d sketched him smiling at her on the terrace, lounging here in the Great Hall at the end of a long day, dancing at Magnus’s party. She’d miss him so much.

  It was impossible. She’d go home and forget these emotions; despite their current intensity, she knew they’d fade. She hoped they’d fade. It had been possible, standing in his arms, to let the glimmer of a future together cross her mind, but he’d never said anything about that, never had hinted at them being anything more than they were now. Which was? Not lovers, though she’d thought enough about that, when she’d faced her emotions in the hours between dusk and dawn. If he asked, she would, no regrets, no strings. And then what? She was going home in four days and might never see him again. It would be foolish. It would be heaven.

  And if he returned and gave her that amazing smile, drawing her into his arms, what then? Even if they decided to give a relationship a try, how could they? She knew all the reasons they would fail. It was just not meant to be.

  “Maddie,” Sara called to her. “We have to get back to the hotel. Granddad, Keith, we’ve got people waiting for us.”

  “I’m coming,” Maddie said and picked up her things as Keith left to put the blueprints in the cellar, using the old stone steps in the corner. Magnus waited for Sara and Maddie, then led the way down the new stairs, commenting as he descended that he was the first person to use them. Sara let Maddie go before her; she had just put a foot on the top step when Magnus gave a hoarse cry and tumbled down the last ten steps, landing in a heap on the stone terrace.

  Iain put the last of the flowers in the backseat of the Rover and smiled. Three dozen white roses. They looked beautiful. Roses because roses were for lovers, and that’s what he hoped they’d be. And white because he thought red might scare her off. He’d called ahead to Portree, ordering the flowers to pick up on his way north, then stopped at a shop in Inverness where he bought Maddie a sleeveless pink sweater and another in a shade of green that reminded him of her eyes. No black. What did he have to lose? Either Maddie would be pleased and they could sort this out together, whatever it turned out to be, or she’d run back to New York and her career and he’d feel like a fool.

  Surely they could find a way. How could a woman kiss him the way Maddie had and not care for him? He knew better. He’d been with women who had wanted something from him, his money, his title. Or a wedding ring. None of them had wanted him for himself, and none had fooled him. He’d enjoyed them for as long as it suited him, then moved on without regrets. But Maddie was different. Physically they’d be very compatible. She had responded with a passion that had surprised him, as though he’d breathed life into a banked fire. The flames had been instantly hot and quite intense. He smiled to himself. Damn Celtic blood. Next thing you knew he’d be writing sonnets to her beauty or composing songs to sing outside her window. Roses and sweaters were a good start.

  At the Trotternish he stopped in the lobby to see if Maddie was around. It was almost time for dinner. The girl at the front desk looked at him with frightened eyes, and Iain tensed.

  “What is it?” he asked, expecting to be told his father had taken a turn for the worse.

  “It’s Lord MacDonald,” she said. “He fell down the stairs at Duntober this afternoon. They’ve taken him to Portree.”

  “Magnus? Where is he? How is he?”

  The girl shook her head. “Haven’t heard yet. Maddie left her mobile number in case ye called,” she said, handing him a slip of paper.

  He went outside and stood next to the Rover while he punched in the numbers. Maddie answered on the second ring.

  “Iain, you’re back!” He heard the relief in her voice. “Magnus will be all right. He’s only sprained his ankle. We’re on our way back now.”

  “What happened?”

  There was silence, and he thought he’d lost the signal; then Maddie’s voice came back, quieter now. “We’re not sure. The board was loose and he fell. The man who built the stairs said he checked everything four times, that the board couldn’t have been loose. He says it was pried up after he nailed it down. He’s furious, and he wants to talk to you. Magnus was the first one down the stairs… Iain, he could have been very badly hurt. It could have been Sara. Or you.”

  “Where are ye?”

  “At Staffin. We’re almost there.”

  “Good. See ye in a few minutes.”

  He clicked the phone with a cold rage. The man who built those stairs was a good carpenter, a fine man. It was difficult to believe that he’d made a mistake like that. If he said the stairs had been checked, they’d been checked. It had been no accident. Whoever was making mayhem could have seriously hurt Magnus. O Sara’s unborn child. Or Maddie.

  Who was it? It made no sense for the MacLeods to suddenly claim land they’d lost hundreds of years ago. A quick ring to Dunvegan would solve that mystery. And if some antirestoration group was really involved, why hadn’t they picketed or made more noise in the press? No, this was a stealthy and nasty campaign, one aimed at stopping the work at Duntober. Why? Who would profit from that? Who had an old grudge? Who was it? Someone knew. And that skanky blond girl had something to do with it. He’d not really focused on her, although he’d been vaguely aware that she’d been around for weeks. But after Magnus’s party, when Sara had made her remarks, he’d suddenly realized that the girl was always around, always asking how the work was going at the castle, always leaning her underfed body up against him or Derek. And when he’d seen Derek dancing with her, he’d watched her, had watched how calculated her attentions were. He wasn’t worried about Derek—he could take care of himself—but he felt as though he’d just put a puzzle piece in the right place.

  7

  It was hours before Iain remembered the flowers. Magnus had arrived on crutches, Anne anxiously helping him through the door. And then there had been a flurry of activity, getting Magnus into the family lounge, where he sat, making jokes and trying to make light of it. But one look at Sara’s and Maddie’s faces, at Keith’s fury and Derek’s outrage, had let Iain know he wasn’t the only one to suspect sabotage.

  He and Derek had gone to Staffin, finding the man who had built the stairs and listening to his story, then assuring him that Magnus would be fine. The man, a carpenter who had worked for Magnus for twenty years, went with them to Duntober, showing Iain the pry marks on the wood where the step had been loosened. Iain told the man they believed him, then stood still as a thought occurred to him. He suddenly had an idea of who it might be. When they were alone, he told Derek, who agreed. They had called the police then to start the documentation process. In the morning the evidence might be gone.

  Two hours later, back at the Trotternish, Magnus nodded slowly, looking from Iain to Derek to Keith. “Aye,” he said. “It makes sense. Ugly sense, but it could be. Tomorrow I’ll call Dunvegan, and that will eliminate that. If Iain’s correct, we’ll have more ‘incidents.’ Keith, Sara is no’ to be at Duntober until we solve this. We’re damn lucky it was me and no’ her. If ye’d lost yer child…”

  “I’d kill him,” Keith said, and Derek and Iain nodded.

  “I’ll spend the nights there,” Iain said, but Magnus shook his head.

  “Spend tomorrow night there, lad. He’ll no’ do anythi
ng so soon after this. Go and get yer rest now, all of ye. This is a hell of a birthday gift. I need another whisky. Derek, find yer grandmother. I need a dose of Anne as well.”

  Maddie stretched her hands high above her head and tried to concentrate on Larry’s latest fax. She’d have to call him, she thought, glancing at her watch, then looking up as Sara came to sit next to her in the hotel lounge. She had stayed downstairs hoping to see Iain alone, but it looked like a futile hope.

  “I’m off to bed,” Sara said with a wan smile. “I’m exhausted.”

  Maddie nodded and patted Sara’s hand. “He’s all right.”

  “I know. But… well.” Sara straightened her back and sighed. “We all know it wasn’t an accident, Maddie. Ye heard the man. He was outraged at the suggestion that he’d not attached the board.”

  “I know.”

  “And Granddad and Keith and Derek and Iain have been closeted for ages.”

  “I know.”

  “Did ye see Iain’s face? He knows something.”

  Maddie nodded. She’d had the same thoughts. And others. This was not how she’d pictured she’d see him again, and she’d not had a moment to talk privately with him. He’d given her a warm greeting, but then had gone to Duntober, and when he came back he’d been in the lounge with the others. She sighed and patted Sara’s hand again.

  “Go to bed,” she said, then leaned to embrace her friend. “All’s well, Sara. We were lucky.”

  Sara nodded, yawned again, then turned as the men came out of the lounge. Keith, Iain, and Derek talked quietly together just outside the door, then Keith came to them and took Sara’s hand.

  “We’re off to bed, love.” He kissed her cheek and said good night to Maddie, leading a yawning Sara away.

  Derek waved as he went through the front door. To the pub, no doubt, Maddie thought, then forgot about Derek as Iain walked toward her with an intent expression.

  “Maddie,” he said, coming to stand before her. “How are ye?”