Hot for the Scot

by Janice Maynard

  Gingerly, he shook his head. “No.” He breathed deeply, clearly trying to will away the nausea. “I want to go home.”

  Unbeknownst to me, Angus had handed off his keys to someone who then jogged over to Màiri’s and retrieved the SUV. It was in the parking lot waiting on us.

  After a nurse brought in the final paperwork, Angus looked at me. “Do you mind to drive?”

  “Of course not,” I lied. What else could I say?

  Per hospital rules, Angus was transported by wheelchair. Màiri stayed with him while I brought the car around. In the parking lot, I backed out gingerly. I felt as if I was steering an armored vehicle. The thing handled like an amped-up dinosaur.

  I did my best not to let either of the Munros see how freaked out I was by the thought of driving this behemoth not only up to Angus’s place, but on the wrong side of the road. Thank God the journey was brief.

  Chapter 22

  By the time we made it to the top of the mountain, I was shaking as much as Angus. He refused any help walking into the house, though his mother and I hovered on either side of him.

  Why was it that men were so grouchy when they were laid up? I decided to let Màiri handle the first shift. I didn’t want Angus barking at me. Even though I sympathized with his injury and I knew his head had to be killing him, our relationship was tentative enough and new enough that I wasn’t sure we would do well with the nurse-patient dynamic.

  I felt suddenly claustrophobic. My vacation in Scotland had not turned out at all as I planned. In many ways, I was glad. My goal to become part of a community had been fulfilled in spades. I no longer saw myself as a visitor in Drumnadrochit. I had been useful and engaged.

  After changing clothes and grabbing an apple and some peanuts, I headed out, intent on walking part of the Great Glen Way. The trail crossed the back of Angus’s property. It was impossible to get lost, because the path was well marked, and today I could see for miles.

  Unlike the mountains back home that were tree-covered and sometimes impenetrable in the wilds, Scottish hills were open and grassy and dotted with small plants and shrubbery, along with occasional patches of trees. For the hiker, every step was its own reward. As I walked, I could see the loch in the distance.

  Although I had worked hard in the last week, none of my tasks had been aerobic in nature. Now I pushed myself, needing exertion to clear my head and restore my emotional balance. When I had made it three miles according to a small signpost, I paused to sit on a rock and admire the view.

  My apple was the perfect mix of tart and sweet. As I crunched it, I debated my next moves. The idea of a Scottish romance had never really been anything but theoretical to me. The thought that I might meet a man I actually wanted to spend time with was the stuff of fiction.

  Yet, here I was.

  Clearly, Angus and I would not be traveling to Oban tomorrow. He would need at least a couple or three days to recover first. In some ways, that was a good thing for me. It gave me one last window of opportunity to decide what I wanted. Was I ready for a physical relationship? Did I see myself as halfway in love with Angus already?

  For the first time, I let myself entertain the notion of staying in Scotland. As things stood now, Angus and I would barely have time to get comfortable with each other before I would have to leave. It was far too soon to know if we had a chance at anything permanent.

  If I went back to Georgia, I could miss something wonderful.

  But on the other hand, for me to cancel my travel reservations, I would have to take a leave from my job. My stomach quivered. I was not the kind of woman who made huge life decisions on a whim.

  As calmly as I could manage, I weighed the pros and cons. First of all, money was an issue. Even if Angus and I were involved in a relationship and he invited me to stay with him long-term, I would still have expenses. And if our romance turned out to be nothing more than a crush or a momentary flirtation, I would have given up a job I valued for nothing.

  I was fairly certain my principal would grant me a leave. She liked me and I was a dependable employee. I could ask to take off one semester, but to be fair to the students it would probably be wiser to take the year. Then, no matter what date I returned home, I could substitute in the public school system every day if I wanted. As a plan, it wasn’t ideal, but it was doable.

  The only question that remained was whether or not I cared enough about Angus to turn my life upside down and test the waters in a very serious fashion.

  I enjoyed my hike enormously. This was the kind of activity I’d had in mind before coming to Scotland, because I loved exploring new places. As a child, my parents took me to national parks and taught me to appreciate nature in all its many forms. When I was older, my father shared his love of history with me. My trip to Scotland combined two of my favorite things.

  Eventually, no matter how much fun I was having, I knew I had to return to Angus’s home. I was nervous and excited, and quite honestly incredulous that I was seriously entertaining the notion of not returning to the U.S. What would my parents say? What would Willow and McKenzie think?

  When I entered the house, wonderful smells teased my nose and made my stomach growl. I grabbed a quick shower and changed into a simple black skirt and white cotton top. Before venturing across the ocean, I had studied dozens of travel advice columns. My resultant wardrobe was more practical than provocative. Wistfully, I thought of the cute clothes in my closet back home.

  Angus made me feel feminine and desirable. I found myself wanting to dress up for him. Maybe I was still trying to erase the memories of our initial meeting when I looked like the proverbial drowned rat.

  I helped Màiri finish the dinner preparations. She had made a shepherd’s pie that was as beautiful as any I had ever seen. We set it in the middle of the table to cool. Angus appeared without being summoned, no doubt following his nose.

  “Let’s eat,” his mother said. “Annis stayed in the village to visit with a friend.”

  The lack of a fourth person was unfortunate. We made for an awkward trio. The obvious conversational gambit was to ask Angus how he was feeling, but he barely spoke, clearly in misery. So we held our questions.

  Màiri and I tried to keep up a lighthearted conversation, but poor Angus seemed to wince at every other word. At last, we fell silent, respecting his need for quiet. With no one talking, the meal was short.

  Angus ate everything on his plate and stood up, his hand clenched on the edge of the table. “Thanks, Mum. That was wonderful. If you ladies will excuse me, I’m going to watch a bit of TV.”

  When he was out of earshot, Màiri muttered something in Gaelic. I sensed her distress. Angus was the center of her world.

  “Will he be okay?” I asked as we cleaned up the kitchen in harmony.

  She frowned. “I’d ask a favor of ye, Hayley. Will you stay with him in his room tonight? A grown man doesna’ want his mother looking after him.”

  I stuttered inwardly. That was certainly a case of setting the cat among the pigeons. “Um…well, yes…I suppose. If he wants me to.”

  “Don’t be coy,” she said, her expression wry. “My boy is fascinated with you. I’m not blind.” She didn’t seem too happy about it.

  I felt my face go hot. “I like Angus, I do,” I said. “But we haven’t…well…”

  “You’ve not slept together.”

  Oh, lordy. “No, ma’am.” In truth, we had slept together. But I knew what she meant.

  She sat down at the table and waved me to the opposite seat. Lowering her voice, she put me on the spot. “Angus has traveled the world, Hayley, but Scotland is his home. Ye’d be doin’ yourself a favor by not getting involved. Your time here is very brief. Ye’re a decent young woman, but ye’re not right for him. I hope ye don’t mind my plain speaking.”

  “No, ma’am.” Though I had pondered this very topic, I was not ready to discuss it so freely. “I understand what you’re staying. All my friends and
family are in the U.S.”

  It was evasion on my part, plain and simple. I saw from her face that she recognized my cowardice. “I see how you look at him. Don’t let yourself get hurt.”

  She was far more perceptive than I had given her credit for. “Angus and I barely know each other,” I protested, trying to convince her or me or both of us that I was not in danger of throwing caution to the wind.

  “He’s more content than I’ve seen him in a long time,” she said quietly. “Coming home wasn’t what he thought it would be. It’s been hard for him to settle in. But with you, he’s different. I suppose I should be grateful for that.”

  “He’s a wonderful man,” I said. It was a phenomenal understatement. Angus was like Scotland itself, both rough-edged and beautiful…mysterious and appealing. So many layers to peel away, so many hidden facets to uncover.

  “The lad’s in no shape for shenanigans,” she said. “What I’m asking you to do is watch over him. He’s had a handful of concussions in his career, each one more worrisome to me than the last. I’ve studied the subject of brain trauma in some detail. It’s a complicated injury. And can be verra, verra serious. I don’t want him to be alone tonight.”

  “I understand,” I said. “You can count on me. I’ll make sure he takes his meds and rests properly.”

  Her face lightened. “Thank you, lass. That eases my mind.”

  I found Angus in the beautiful room where we had shared a kiss the night after the flood. He was sprawled on the sofa, remote in hand, moodily channel surfing, though the volume was muted. His brow was still creased and his face pale as milk, telling me that he suffered.

  He barely looked up when I stood at his feet. “I’m no’ very good company right now, Hayley. Ye’d best leave me be.”

  I ignored his ill humor. My empathy for his pain took precedence over anything else. Without waiting for permission, I nudged his knee. “Sit up a minute while I get settled. Then put your head in my lap.”

  Though he muttered and glowered, he followed my directive. Moments later, we were resting on the sofa together. I stroked my fingers across his forehead, wishing I could erase his discomfort.

  “Och. God, that feels good, lass,” he muttered. “Don’t stop.”

  For the longest time, I did as he asked. With his eyes closed, I was free to study his face without apology. If I had tried to conjure up a strong, handsome Highlander, I could not have imagined anyone more appealing than Angus Munro. With his sly sense of humor and bold sexuality, he was unlike anyone I had ever known. Seeing him in action this past week had only increased my respect for him. He was far from perfect, but I loved the way his innate humility balanced out his masculine arrogance.

  A devoted son and a decent human being. A sexy man whose kisses made me yearn for so much more. How could I not let myself fall in love with him?

  Shock held me immobile. The admission had sneaked up on me, though surely the certainty had been growing every day since I met him. I was halfway in love with Angus Munro already. Perhaps I’d been slow to recognize the emotion because it was unprecedented in my life.

  I loved my parents. And my friends. And my students. But I had never felt for any man more than a deep affection and a passing sexual attraction.

  This thing with Angus was totally different.

  I sat frozen in shock, my heart racing. Maybe I should have been elated. Instead, I was scared spitless. I didn’t know what to do with this turn of events. My instinct was to protect myself.

  Angus appeared to be sleeping, but I couldn’t be sure. I continued to stroke the hair from his broad forehead, occasionally tracing his eyebrows with a fingertip. He breathed deeply, his chest rising and falling.

  Màiri was right to be concerned. I had read about brain trauma as well. American football was even more dangerous than the soccer Angus played. Repeated blows to the head could have major consequences, even death.

  On the low table in front of us was a slip of paper where Angus’s mother had jotted down when he had taken his medication. By my reckoning, it was time for another dose. I hated waking him, but I knew it was best to stay ahead of the pain lest it get out of control.

  “Angus,” I whispered. “Are you awake?”

  He shifted and grimaced. “Aye.”

  “It’s time for your medicine.”

  Groaning, he sat up, then leaned forward with his head in his hands. “Just cut it off,” he said.

  I was confused. “Cut what off?”

  “My bloody head.”

  Without saying a word, I poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the table and shook a couple of small white pills from the prescription bottle. “Take these,” I said softly. I could practically feel his pain.

  He didn’t argue. But when he was done, he rested his head on the back of the sofa. “Ye don’t have to play nurse, Hayley. I’m fine.”

  “And what if I want to spend time with you, Angus? Did you ever think of that? I’ll be here all night, so you might as well get used to the idea.”

  He opened one eyelid and stared at me. “Aren’t you worried about your virtue and your reputation?”

  I knew he was needling me, but I answered calmly. “A—you aren’t really capable of ruining me at the moment, and B—it was your mother’s idea. So I think we’re in the clear.”

  The string of Gaelic that followed was impressive, even minus a translation. “I’m no’ a baby in need of a wet nurse. I can take care of myself.” The words were loud and heated. I suspected that his near-shout had made his headache worse.

  After a split second when I was startled by his temper, I resumed my seat, urging him back onto my lap. “Quit making such a fuss.” I refused to be offended by his grumpiness.

  He stretched full length, his head on my leg, and sighed. “I’m sorry, wee Hayley. I’m a bear tonight. And you’re an angel.”

  “Let’s not go overboard.”

  We sat there like that for a full two hours. Angus dozed on and off. I watched an old movie with the closed captioning on so as not to disturb my patient. It was almost ten when he roused and sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “You don’t have to stay with me, Hayley. That thing about waking people with concussions every half hour is an old wives’ tale.”

  “Maybe so. But if I go to my room I’ll only worry about you all night.”

  His eyes were so dark right now the pupils were barely visible. “Is the universe telling us this is not going to work out?”

  I knew immediately what he meant. “I hope not. You’ve made me want you. Badly. So universe or no universe, I plan to find out what’s under your kilt before the month is out.”

  “I’m not wearing a kilt, lass. Maybe you’re the one with a head injury.” His gentle humor made me smile.

  “It’s a metaphorical kilt,” I explained. I was glad to see that his color was a tiny bit improved. “And now that you mention it, do you actually own a kilt, or is that all in my imagination?”

  “Aye. I have one. It’s a beauty. I’ve worn it a time or two for formal occasions. Makes the lassies swoon.” He leered suggestively.

  “As if you needed help,” I muttered. “C’mon. Let’s get you into bed.”

  Chapter 23

  I’m sure Angus could have made it down the hall without me. But when he rested his arm across my shoulders, I felt warmed all the way through by the contact.

  His bedroom was one of the few rooms in the house I had not yet seen. I stood in the doorway, struck dumb by the sheer magnificence of it all. The bed was a king-size four-poster, but there was nothing sleek or elegant about its construction. It was made of sturdy logs, bark and all.

  The walls of the generous suite were covered with small, flat stones. An enormous fireplace dominated one wall. The floor covering was a deep-pile carpet, dark green, so soft and thick I couldn’t wait to feel it with my bare feet. Through a giant picture window, the view of Loch Ness would be amazing in th
e daylight.

  I took it all in with an awestruck gaze. “This is beautiful,” I said, whispering as if I were in a church. “And it’s so you.”

  “Do ye like it, then?”

  “I love it.” Belatedly, I realized that my patient was still standing. “Can you manage a shower?” I asked, in all seriousness.

  He put his hands on my shoulders. “Are ye offering to wash my back, Hayley?”

  I bit my lip, paralyzed by the image of a naked Angus and me with soap in my hand. “Um, no.”

  “Too bad.” He bent his head slowly, either to give me time to escape or because the slightest movement caused him pain. “Kiss me, wee Hayley.”

  I kissed him as requested, thinking that a quick peck on the lips would be less stressful for him than an argument about what he should and should not do. Unfortunately, I hadn’t counted on the fact that his lips touching mine would set off a chain reaction that started in my heart and ended up somewhere much farther south, leaving me panting and needy.

  I put a hand on his chest. “Stop.”

  He sat down hard on the side of the bed, his pallor increasing. “Damn it, woman. One day I’m going to do this right.”

  I felt his frustration. It was no more or less urgent that my own. But one of us had to be logical. “Do you feel faint?” I asked. “Dizzy? Confused? Nauseated?”

  “I feel like bloody hell.”

  Irritability was a symptom of concussion. I gazed at him with as much compassion as I could muster, given the fact that I wanted to push him back onto the mattress and ravish him like a cavewoman. Something about this room elicited the untamed side of me. “I'm not kidding, Angus. You have to be careful. Head injuries are serious stuff. Do you promise to tell me if your headache gets worse?”

  “Aye.” Still he didn’t move.

  I decided it might be better if I gave him some privacy. I wasn’t thrilled about leaving him alone, even for a brief span of time. But I sensed he wasn’t going to undress with me around.

  “I’ll go change into my jammies,” I said. “I’ll knock when I come back. Is there anything you want from the kitchen? Warm milk? A cup of herbal tea?”