Not Quite a Scot

by Janice Maynard

  “Go on.”

  Now he was manipulating each individual toe. Sweet heaven. I managed not to shudder and moan. It was a close call. “My father owns a huge import-export business based in Atlanta and New York. I grew up mostly in Georgia, but I’m very comfortable in the Big Apple as well.”

  “And your mother?”

  “Social climber. Narcissist. I love her and vice versa. I’ve often wondered if she gave birth to me only because it was the thing to do. Both of my parents mostly went their own way as I was growing up. The only time they interfered in my life was if I let my grades drop or I hung around with kids they considered socially inferior.”

  “Willow and Hayley?”

  “Yes, for starters. But I lost touch with Willow and Hayley for a decade or more. It wasn’t until I finished college that we reconnected and resurrected our friendship.”

  “Carefully cemented by the glue that is Jamie Fraser.”

  “Not in the beginning. That came later. Mock all you want. You should read the books. They’re extraordinarily well written, and the stories are more than romance if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “You make a very passionate ambassador. Maybe I’ll give this Outlander thing a try.”

  Chapter 15

  I felt myself melting into a puddle of yearning. What he was doing to my feet should be illegal. Clearing my throat, I sat up abruptly. “They’re better now. Thanks.” I put on my shoes like a knight donning armor. I needed to keep some kind of distance between Finley and me at the moment, and with him massaging my feet so erotically, that wasn’t going to happen.

  He tucked his hands behind his neck and stretched. “I’ve got a good picture of your childhood. Now let’s hear about the men in your life.”

  “You might not believe me,” I said ruefully, “but there haven’t been all that many. I went to an all-girls high school and an all-girls college.”

  “Maybe so, but in college you were away from home, right?”

  “Yes.” This next part was humiliating. I wasn’t sure I wanted to share it, but I could hardly expect Finley to bare his soul if I weren’t going to be honest with him. “My first time was with my English professor. Sophomore year.” I realized that my hands were clenched in my lap. To move them would only draw attention to how tense I was. I’m not sure what I expected Finley to say, but he surprised me.

  He turned to me and smoothed the hair away from my face, rubbing his thumb over my bottom lip. “I get the picture, Duchess. No need to open old wounds. The guy was a bastard.”

  I thought back to those exhilarating days. I’d been head over heels in lust with the man who spoke so eloquently of Shakespeare and poets and the power of words. In the end, I’d found out the hard way that he was no more than a middle-aged man trying to prove to himself he was still young. Unfortunately, I was not the only naïve girl he’d taken under his wing.

  I shook my head, feeling the sting of regret. “Suffice it to say that I waited a long time until I was ready to trust a man again. The end of grad school to be exact. I thought I was finally on the way to getting engaged and living happily ever after. Turns out, though, bachelor number two was far more interested in spending my trust fund than he was in loving me. When I found out and broke up with him, he said I was immature and socially awkward, and that no man would ever see past the money.”

  The silence fell and gathered weight. I’m not sure why I’d been so detailed in the telling. I could have glossed over it. Maybe it had been too long since I saw my therapist. I wanted to laugh at my own dark humor, but I restrained myself.

  Finley reached out and took my right hand in his left. “At the risk of beating a dead horse, is that it?”

  “I’ve dated in the interim, nothing serious.”

  He massaged my palm with his talented thumb. The man clearly liked to work with his hands. Maybe that’s why his motorcycles gave him so much joy.

  “Ah, Duchess,” he said. “What I wouldn’t give to have those two guys alone in a locked room for half an hour.”

  “Would you beat the crap out of them?” I asked the question with relish.

  He chuckled. “I’d sure as hell try. What morons.”

  “Yeah. I figured that out eventually. The money thing was a bigger millstone than I had realized. People always want something. Good things sometimes. Still, it’s hard to feel like an ATM. That’s why my two friends who came to Scotland with me are so important. They knew me back before I was a debutante with money. I was just another toddler sharing a Little Tykes tricycle.”

  “And you didn’t go to school together?”

  “Only for a few years. My parents decided I needed to be sheltered from the ‘bad influences’ in public school, so they moved me. Willow ended up leaving, too, for different reasons. When we found each other again, it was as if those years in between never happened.”

  “You’re lucky.”

  “Yes, I am. Your turn,” I said, squeezing his hand.

  When he hesitated, I grimaced, even though he couldn’t see my face. “I know you’ve had way more experience than me. Heck, some of the nuns at my high school probably had more experience than me. I don’t need a listing, Finley. You could hit the high spots. Particularly concerning a woman who was blond, gorgeous, and loaded. You’ve left that comment dangling.”

  His laugh sounded forced. “I knew I never should have mentioned it.”

  “Do I really remind you of her?” I sensed his ambivalence, though I didn’t understand it. Unless he was in love with the woman who got away.

  Finley pounded a fist on his knee. “I’m sorry I said it. It’s not really true…at least not past a superficial resemblance. Vanessa was greedy and self-centered and high maintenance.”

  “Ouch. If she was such an ogre, why did you fall in love with her?”

  “It’s a long story,” he warned.

  “I can stay up past my bedtime. Honestly.”

  This time his laugh was the real thing. “Okay. You asked for it. You remember all that stuff about me buckling down in college?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s true. I did. Graduated university with honors and whizzed through a wretchedly difficult MBA. I thought I deserved a pat on the back for that. My dad had other ideas.”

  “Go on.”

  “My plan was to take a year off and hitchhike my way through Europe. Decide what I wanted to do with my life. Find myself. All that jazz. Unfortunately, my father had waited long enough for me to shape up and grow up. He wanted me to step into the family business sooner than later.”

  “And that business is…?”

  “My great-grandparents opened one of the first furniture manufacturing companies in North Carolina. They stayed on top decade after decade. My father happily picked up the reins when it was his turn.”

  “But not you.”

  “It looked like a prison sentence to me. I tried to talk to my dad. He was having none of it. So he went behind my back and devised plan two.”

  “How Machiavellian.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. He and another of the big companies saw financial difficulties looming in the distance. They decided that consolidating would give them both an unbreachable stronghold in the area. And they were right. It wasn’t enough to agree. Both men thought the deal was only as good as the personal investment.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The other guy had a daughter my age.”

  “A blond, beautiful daughter.”

  “You got it. Vanessa was wealthy in her own right, but there was never enough as far as she was concerned. My father hatched a plan for the two of us to meet and offered her fifty thousand dollars if she could get me to commit to her. Daddy dearest knew I’d end up tied to the woman and the business, and he would have achieved the endgame.”

  “You weren’t suspicious?”

  “I was twenty-four years old and horny from morning to night. F
ate drops a gorgeous blonde in my lap. What was I supposed to do? She laughed at all my jokes, offered sex with no strings attached, and did her best to make me fall in love with her.”

  I was hanging on Finley’s every word. I couldn’t imagine him being manipulated by anyone, much less a woman. “Did you? Fall in love, I mean?”

  “I fell in lust. I’m not sure I knew what love was. The scary thing is, it would have worked if I hadn’t stumbled onto the money trail. My father kept his checkbook in the middle drawer of his desk at home. One afternoon I was looking for a paperclip. A damned paperclip. The check register was open, and there was her name and the amount. When I confronted him, he didn’t deny it. He said I was too arrogant and stupid to know what was good for me.”

  “Oh, Finley.”

  “We had a monstrous shouting match that stopped just short of me bashing his head with a fireplace poker. Bella came in during the middle of it and burst into tears. I walked out and never went back.”

  “Never?”

  “I had worked all during high school and college. Contrary to my father’s belief, I wasn’t really irresponsible. I had a nice nest egg saved up. I spent a few nights on a buddy’s couch coming up with a plan. A week later, I was on a plane for Europe. And you know the rest.”

  I sat in silence, trying to absorb everything he had said. “You’ve never mentioned your mother.”

  “She died when Bella was three and I was eight.”

  “Did your father every remarry?”

  “Yep. Six months after I left for Europe, he married Vanessa.”

  The blunt statement stunned me. Finley had been betrayed several times over by the man who should have been firmly in his corner. “Oh, God. That’s dreadful.”

  “Yeah. Needless to say, I didn’t go to the wedding. Those were pretty much the most humiliating months of my life. Dear Bella refused to lose contact with me, even though with the mood I was in I wasn’t much of a brother.”

  “I don’t understand. You said Bella’s getting a doctorate. Didn’t your father pressure her into the family business as well?”

  “Bella was always brilliant. Everyone knew she was destined for a bright future. Besides, my father is very old fashioned. The whole father-to-son lineage thing is important to him. Very biblical.”

  “Has Bella ever visited you here?”

  “A handful of times. After I left home, it was several years until she made it to Skye. At first, my father wouldn’t allow it. Then by the time she was on her own, she was neck deep in her studies.”

  “How often have you been back to the States?”

  “Never. I had planned to go home for her college graduation. She begged me not to. She knew Dad and Vanessa would be there, and she didn’t want to risk an embarrassing scene.”

  “Surely she knew you wouldn’t ruin her special day.”

  “Not me. Vanessa. My stepmother is a drama queen in every sense of the word. It’s best for everybody if I give my ‘parents’ a wide berth.”

  “Did your father marry Vanessa to punish you?” I couldn’t imagine such a cold-hearted parent.

  “I think she seduced him and not the other way around, although it probably occurred to him that hooking up with my ex would be a way to turn the knife. No, the punishment for my defection was writing me out of his will. As it stands now, Bella will inherit everything. And I’m fine with that.”

  “She’ll probably give you your half when the time comes…won’t she?”

  “Maybe. I won’t take it. She deserves the money for sticking around and putting up with my father.”

  “I don’t even know what to say, Finley. My mom and dad are not exactly shining examples of good parenting, but their style was more benign neglect than outright manipulation. I’m so sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago. I’ve moved on.”

  That was perhaps the first lie Finley Craig had ever told me. He was still deeply hurt, or else his father wouldn’t have the emotional power to keep Finley away. A man without a country…that’s what Finley was. His self-imposed exile reminded him every day of his youthful mistake.

  He was hardly the first man to be fooled by a woman. The experience had been compounded by the fact his father had been complicit in the whole scheme.

  We had barely scratched the surface of Finley’s past. There were ten years of Scottish history unaccounted for. Suddenly, I wasn’t interested in a litany of his relationships while he’d been living in Portree.

  I was far more curious about what was going to happen when we went back up the hill.

  Chapter 16

  “It’s late,” I said. “I’m starting to get chilled. Do you mind if we go home?”

  “Not at all.”

  He must have realized I wasn’t going to press for more details about his love life. Was he glad? Or did he have nothing to hide? It didn’t really matter now. It was pretty clear to me that what happened a decade ago had indelibly shaped both his outlook on life and his attitude toward women.

  No wonder he had been so prickly with me when I arrived. With my fancy luggage and couture clothes, he had pigeonholed me immediately. He couldn’t know that the luggage was a dozen years old or that I kept the same classic items of clothing for several years.

  I enjoyed fashion. What woman didn’t? Even so, my closet was relatively small. I didn’t collect for the sake of collecting. A few good staple pieces and a handful of jewelry were my usual style.

  Without speaking, we stood and began the climb up to Finley’s house. He had left a few lights burning. Their glow welcomed us in the darkness. I would be sad to leave tomorrow. No matter how comfy Cedric’s house became, it would never have the charm of this one, because it wouldn’t have Finley and Cinnamon.

  I stumbled going up the steps. Finley grabbed for my elbow automatically and steadied me. In the hushed breath of a passing second, I knew what he was thinking. His grip gentled, and he stepped away…even though I would have bet my last twenty pound note that he wanted me.

  “Goodnight, McKenzie,” he said. “I’ll be in shortly and lock up.”

  He was playing the civilized host, not taking advantage of our situation. While I appreciated his restraint, I was in a more volatile place. “Do you want me in your bed, Finley?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

  “Don’t be naïve,” he snapped. “You know what I want.” He paused. “Are you sure?” The question was barely audible.

  “Sure enough for now,” I said rashly. “This trip to Scotland is supposed to be about enjoying new experiences. I choose you.”

  “McKenzie…” He said my name in a hushed whisper that made me tremble. “I’d be a fool to say no.”

  “I have it on good authority that you’re a very intelligent man. We don’t have to overthink this. I’m spreading my wings. Getting out of a rut. I know what I’m doing, I swear. You don’t have to worry I’ll be underfoot every time you turn around. That’s not my style.”

  “I wouldn’t mind if you were,” he said mildly as he ruffled his fingers through my hair.

  When his big, warm hands settled on my bare shoulders, something happened to me. I don’t know if it was the moon or the dancing or the fact that I was deep in the Scottish Highlands, but I succumbed to some kind of spell. The world fell away bit by bit until all I knew was Finley.

  The way he touched me—so hungry and yet so sweet. The sound of his breathing, harsh and ragged. The dampness of the skin at the back of his neck when I caressed the place where his hair met his collar.

  My brain shut down, at least the portion that contained reason and logic. All I could do was feel and feel and feel. In my ballet flats, I was small and defenseless. Finley was tall and strong and unmistakably masculine. “Take me inside,” I pleaded. Before I change my mind. I couldn’t even blame my reckless decision on alcohol. I was stone cold sober.

  Finley scooped me into his arms. For a man who insisted that life wasn’t a romance nov
el, he damned sure acted like a storybook hero. I rested my cheek against his collarbone and pressed my hand over his heart.

  Time lost all meaning. Cradled in Finley’s embrace, I was content to drift as he locked the door and carried me upstairs. He bypassed my room and went on to his. Unfortunately, our romantic moment ground to a halt when we heard Cinnamon barking mournfully in the distance.

  “Damned dog.” Finley sighed.

  I knew he didn’t mean it. A man in certain situations is hard pressed to focus on anything other than the mission at hand. I kissed his cheek. “Go take her out. I’ll wait. It’s okay.”

  Finley set me on my feet and disappeared. In the distance I could hear the interaction between man and dog before they went outside. Given a reprieve to assess the situation, I smiled ruefully. I wasn’t going to back out now. This encounter was no adrenaline-fueled decision in the heat of the moment. I knew what I was doing. And I knew the risk I was taking.

  Finley Craig was the kind of man who broke hearts.

  He was wary. Cynical. Distrustful of women in general.

  Unfortunately, he was exactly what I wanted.

  I sat on the edge of the bed and tested the mattress with my hand. Finley’s bed was as beautiful as the man himself. The wooden frame and headboard were simple and stunning, the oak polished with the sheen of long use. I wondered if it was an antique. The room was almost monastic in its simplicity. A single dresser occupied one wall. A more modern entertainment armoire faced the bed.

  The walls were painted the palest of greens, the color of light in a summer forest. The single large window was flanked with raw linen draperies. Everything was perfectly neat. Did the housekeeper work this magic? Or was the complicated man with the painful past in need of a peaceful place to unwind at the end of a long day?

  I had assumed Finley would hurry Cinnamon outside and back in again quickly. Perhaps the dog was being contrary. Or maybe Finley was rethinking our rash tumble into bed. It hurt to imagine that some of his caution might be in regard to me. I was rich and blond and moderately attractive. Certainly not gorgeous. My chin was too strong for classical female beauty. And I’d never been thin since I went through puberty.