Here we go.
“I will grant your desire when you have performed three tasks.” He flashed three fingers in emphasis as if Calum couldn’t count.
He groaned, not trusting that a verbal expression of his true feelings on Finn’s game would prove useful.
“Are you with me, warrior?”
His response was a seasick–like grimace. Finn took the gesture as affirmation and swept up onto the table to sit with his boots on the bench. “The first task must be completed by the end of this day. Your true love has allowed her passion to lie comatose. She hides behind a belief that unleashed passion will be her ruin and thinks it stems from this motherless life. But we know better, don’t we? Deep down, Bethia knows that without you, she’ll never quench her soul’s desire in this life, so she doesn’t try. Yours is the one soul that will rouse Bethia. You must procure a kiss from your mate. Use your charm, but she must be the instigator, and it must be a substantial, fully infused, fevered kind of kiss, or it doesn’t count.”
Calum couldn’t help but feel pleased by this sensible observation — no mention of eternal bonds on the verge of destruction. He scanned the buildings for Beth and then waited for a woman to pass by. “Why does this have to be a game?”
Finn’s smile was no joke. “Because I am all powerful, and I like games.”
“All powerful,” Calum grumbled. “It’s too soon. We’ve only been together a day, and despite your observation, she’s become attached to another man. Perhaps you could jog her memory a bit in my direction.”
“Perhaps … but no.”
“Damn it, Finn, you taunt me with a game like I’m a lad of six.”
“You blame me?” Gold fire sparked in his eyes. He disappeared then suddenly reappeared on the other side of Calum. “You’re the one that called me forth, you beg favour after favour and still you ask that another be granted.”
The last thing Calum needed was to raise Finn’s hackles. He wasn’t so dimwitted as to provoke this being’s anger — he’d heard stories. “I apologize. You’ve been very generous.”
The gold fire dispelled. “Yes, I have.” Finn’s face lit suddenly. “I will give you one advantage.”
Calum’s shirt disappeared in a puff. “What the bloody … Give me my shirt back!” His fists clenched at his sides.
“Aren’t you supposed be quelling your temper? Don’t forget, I’ll be keeping a watch on you, warrior. Do you not think your true love will be hard pressed to resist you now?” And with that said Finn disappeared in that blasted wind and silver laughter.
That manipulative fiend! Calum had to get a new shirt fast before Beth saw him. He headed toward the shops. Gas, hamburgers, coffee — no shirt shop. This was no way to win Beth’s attention. She would think him a lunatic.
“Calum, where’s your shirt?”
He stopped dead and turned. Beth had come up behind him with a quizzical look on her face, one he’d seen many times over their lives. The tilt of her head, the slant of an eyelid, the press of lips he so desired sent a flood of affection through his heart. Yet he had no time to marvel at the continuity of this expression.
“Good bloody question. You see then, what happened was, that rapscallion in there, the Big Mac baker, and I use that term loosely because the man can’t bake a biscuit to save his life — ”
“Wait, did you just say rapscallion?”
“Yes, exactly that. He burned the buns. I gave a slight reprove, and he ripped my shirt. I had no choice but to throw it in the trash.” He marched to the garbage and tossed in the hamburgers — damn Finn — they smelled good. “We can’t eat these, and I’m not going back in there. The man’s not right in the head.”
Beth’s mouth formed a perfect doubtful smirk. “Right. You were bested by a Big Mac baker?” She emphasized the word baker as if there was no such thing, but then her stomach grumbled a diversion. She groaned. “I can’t believe you said rapscallion. You are so odd!”
He took her hand and guided her toward the car. “Come now, let’s go. We’ll stop so soon as we may. I need a new shirt.”
• • •
This was a disconcerting turn of events. Beth needed four hands to keep the car on the road with Calum sitting beside her half naked. The man had flawless abs. Or perhaps she’d need those four hands to circle that biceps of his. Never mind that, could a man be more perfectly toned? And, oh, his skin of sun–kissed gold — where had that come from at this time of year?
Scenery — that was the answer — focus on those gentle Laurentian inclines with the sun–drenched high points that shimmered with luminosity, on the rise and fall of hardened rock and virile muscle and kissable skin. Oh, no, that was so not working.
Come on, Beth, bring the mind back to … the St. Lawrence, now there was a river worth noting. A glorious expanse of aquamarine that purled and rippled and reflected puffs of cloud, chilly like a winter wind, nothing that inspired warmth or coziness. Nothing hot and spicy about a river flowing wild in the spring. No, anybody rising out of that water would have icy goose flesh and droplets dripping off their perfect skin and exquisitely hard nipples. Nipples? She let go a soft huff. What was she — fourteen?
“It says here,” Calum said, thank God. He’d been reading the map and tourist brochures the gas station attendant had given to Beth, “that Quebec City is the most romantic place on the North American continent, the ideal destination for lovers. I like the sound of that.”
“Definitely. I mean,” she cleared her throat. “I’ve never been. Stunning countryside so far.”
He shifted in the seat to face her. “Aye, truly stunning.” He spoke with a soft inflection and his gaze on her. “I am predicting ‘twill only get better.” His husky masculine scent nearly made her dizzy, he smelled so unbelievably good. Why couldn’t she have bought a truck, or a bus for that matter, something with space?
Eyes on the road.
He raked his fingers through his hair and she couldn’t help it — she followed the flexion of those biceps brachii like she was back in anatomy class, fully appreciating the extension in those chest muscles.
What had gotten into her? One naked chest in the car, and her brain was a fracas. Think sensible thoughts.
“Matthew didn’t answer his phone, again. That’s not like him at all. I’m going to be honest with you, Calum, when I do talk with him, I’ll be turning around.” There, she said it. “I mean, this has been fun with you, but Matthew should be able to straighten all this out with the police.”
“If I know you are safe, lass, then I will leave you with him if it is your wish. However, I’d like to think you’d not find it easy to leave me.”
Always persisting, he put the Energizer Bunny to shame. “You really need to improve your confidence, Calum. You just have no faith in yourself.”
“Very funny. I’ve no wish to hide my wanting you, Beth.”
“Why do you have to say things like that? I’ve made it quite clear, I’m not available.”
“You’re fairly sure of yourself then? I would think if you harbour the slightest attraction for another man, then you are not Matthew’s and never will be.”
Slightest attraction? Who was she kidding? Obviously not him. If she was a compass then his chest was true north.
“I challenge you to one night in Quebec City,” he said. “Then you will be sure of your heart.”
One night in the ideal destination for lovers with a fantasy warrior? Was that a fair test of a woman’s heart? It should be. If she truly meant to resist womanizing men like Calum, men who lured women, loved women, and left women, then she’d resist him easily, right?
“One night, Calum, but only because the real estate office is located there. Besides, Quebec City has a rich history. You may learn something. And so you don’t get the wrong idea, it’s not because you’re missing your s
hirt.”
• • •
Damn. Finn had been right. Who’d have thought? Beth had ogled him so thoroughly he’d thought she’d wrench her neck. It amused him to no end and more so because of the mask of indifference she constantly reapplied. But he’d been pleasurably aware each time her eyes flittered over his shirtless torso.
Enough was enough though. They stopped for food and a shirt. That done, they booked into a hotel in Old Quebec, the historic district within Quebec City. Beth had insisted the hotel have Internet. With no time to become computer literate, he left her to find what she could of the real estate office. She returned to the room dejected. The woman she sought was away from the office on holiday, so Beth could only leave a message. To ease her disappointment, he suggested they occupy themselves with a tour.
Calum was impressed by the charm of the old town. Its name came from the native people meaning where the river narrows. The walled city wasn’t nearly as old as what you’d see in Scotland, the land closest to his heart, but the city was fresh and clean, and it brimmed with life.
Drawn to the prominent Château Frontenac by the numerous towers and steeply pitched roofs, they walked through the luxurious hotel, and then they wandered the interlocking brick of Petit Champlain under flowering baskets and hanging lanterns, stopping for a late lunch. Beth’s enthusiasm inspired him. This was the Beth he remembered — spirited, vibrant, and playful.
She was by his side. That fact rang like the bell tower. No twenty–first century woman would stay with a man with his story unless, and he felt more convinced of it as the day waned, she felt something deep — a primal and ancient knowing that everything was right in the universe if they were together.
He touched her at every opportunity, hands pressing the small of her back, fingers grazing shoulders, legs brushing legs, thumbs glancing fingers. When she admired a spring dress in a shop window, he bought it for her. Strappy shoes? Undeniably. Silky black lace underclothing? Most definitely.
“You need something decent to wear to dinner,” Beth announced as they passed a men’s clothing shop. She steered him inside and gave him a quick look–over. “What size are you?”
“Everything’s in proportion, lass — extra–large.”
“Not helpful, Calum.” Her gaze dropped to his hips. “Matthew’s a size thirty–two, but you’re bigger than him, so let’s try a thirty–six.” She crossed to a circular display of black trousers and ran her fingers along the fabric. “Oh nice, butter–soft.” Pulling them off their hanger, she held them up to admire. “Do you like these?”
He gave them a quick glance. “Do you?”
Her pretty eyes widened appreciatively as she nodded.
“They’ll do nicely then. Pick whatever you like.” He leaned back against a sweater–piled table and watched her flip through the trousers. Selecting two pairs, she caught her luscious lower lip in her teeth while she scanned the store.
He had no idea what clothes she slapped against his chest a few minutes later. “You better try them on.”
“Here?” He looked down on her with mock disapproval. “If you’re trying to get me naked, Beth, this isn’t the place.”
“Not quite. Why don’t you try the fitting room like a normal person?”
Fitting room. And where might he find one of those? He looked over her shoulders and praise God, a sign indicating just that hung on the far wall over three closed doors.
She followed him across the store where a young woman with a wee ring hooped through one nostril opened the door for him. Since Beth didn’t ask the woman how she’d managed to get a ring stuck in her nose, he decided it was another twenty–first century phenomenon he’d never understand.
Inside the fitting room, he stripped out of his clothes and pulled on the pants Beth had chosen. The fabric was as she’d described — luxuriously soft. He’d rather she had run her fingers up the inseam with him inside.
“Perhaps these are a bit snug, lass.” He called through the door.
“Well let’s see, Calum.”
When he opened the door, she sucked back a short gasp. The ring–nosed woman turned and let go a soft whistle. “Are you ripped, or what?”
Beth glared at him. “Where’s your shirt?”
“I hadn’t got to that yet.”
“Turn around, let’s see how they fit,” said Nose-ring.
Now Beth had an amused look on her face. “Yes, Calum, spin around and show us your butt.” He did, although he’d rather Beth step into the wee room with him where he could show her in private.
Nose-ring emitted another sound of appreciation. “That tight fit is working for me.”
He looked over his shoulder to see Beth’s gaze fixed on his arse.
“No kidding.” Beth glanced at Nose-ring. “Definitely not too tight.”
“I’m glad you approve,” he said dryly. And so did others by the looks the women were shooting him. He stepped back into the room and closed the door.
“Does your boyfriend want a larger size?” he heard Nose-ring say. Calum’s ears pricked up and he moved closer to the door.
“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just friends,” Beth pointed out. Damn, not a hint of jealousy. How was he going to get a passion–infused kiss if she couldn’t even let a stranger think he was hers for mere minutes. Had he made no impression on her at all?
“Man, he’s hot,” said Nose-ring, speaking loud enough to be overheard. “On some men, a beard just looks scruffy, but his five-o’clock shadow is way sexy, don’t you think?”
Calum pressed his ear to the door and heard Beth’s quiet response. “Sexy as hell.”
Smiling, he slipped on the sweater, opened the door, yanked Beth inside, and shut it behind her.
Her eyes grew wide over the hint of a smile. “What are you doing?”
“I’ll not parade myself to a shop full of gawking folk. Now, are you pleased with the clothes you’ve chosen?” He took a step closer.
“I can hardly tell with you standing so close.” She took a step back and came up against the mirror. Her tongue flicked out and wet her lower lip as she looked him over.
“I think black is your colour.”
“Well, ‘tis practical enough.” With another step, he closed the short distance between them. “This woolen feels decadent against my skin.” He pressed his knuckles to the mirror behind her head, so his cashmere–clad forearm brushed her cheek. “What do you think?”
Her nostrils flared as she turned her cheek into his arm and traced a little circle against the fabric. “Oh, it’s nice … mmm hmmm, soft.”
He used his other hand to lift her chin and feather his fingers across her face. “Not nearly as soft as your skin.” Leaning in closer still, he brushed his lips against her cheek and gently rasped her with his sexy–as–hell beard. A faint sound escaped her. The kind of wee moan that sent the blood to a man’s groin. Dropping his hand to the nape of her neck, he ran his fingertips up through her hair over her scalp. She’d always loved that.
Rolling her head on her shoulders, her eyelids fluttered as her hand settled upon his shoulder. He angled her head just so. Kiss me now, sweet Bethia. It was a demand he kept to himself with no small effort. Finn, be damned. Calum would never have hesitated to kiss her now.
He felt her go still beneath his hands. Saw her chest rise in a slow, deep inhale. Sensed her breasts grow full and flush.
She gazed at him with dilated pupils. “Calum, I don’t think — ”
“Don’t think, lass.”
Her chin lifted, her lips parted —
“Do you need another size in there,” came a clipped voice from outside the fitting room. “There are people waiting, you know.”
“No, he’s fine.” Beth pushed against his chest, but he didn’t move. “Calum, we have to go. Move.”
<
br /> “I don’t think so. You were about to kiss me.”
She ducked under his arm. “I wasn’t going to kiss you.” Even she must have noticed the lack of conviction in that denial. “I wasn’t.” Firmly said that time. “I have a boyfriend, remember? If you were a gentleman, you’d respect that.”
“Beth, if I wasn’t a gentleman, you’d be naked right now.”
She swallowed hard and left him alone with his cashmere and his disappointment.
Chapter 13
The Fantasy Warrior Made Me Do It
They returned to the hotel at about eight to shower and dress for dinner.
“You are lovely, lass. I don’t mind the look of you in those trousers, but you are a thousandfold more beautiful in a gown.” By the adoration in his eyes, Beth felt beautiful in the black and white tartan dress.
He wore the form–fitting black cashmere sweater and twill pants, and he hadn’t shaved his sexy–as–hell beard. The man looked spectacular. She should stop staring. “Thanks, Calum. You cleaned up pretty good too.”
Beth grabbed the black wrap that matched her dress. Calum offered her his arm, and they left the hotel room.
Dinner was fabulous with softly lit ambience and conversation that flowed easily. Afterwards, Calum suggested a horse–drawn carriage ride. They walked over to the buggy queue where he chose a spotted grey horse that nickered at his touch then rubbed its head against his muscled arm. Definitely a female, Beth thought. She noticed he paid the driver extra to forgo the guided tour. Interesting. No interruptions, no more history lessons. Just Calum’s undivided attention.
He offered his hand to step up into the carriage. Two steps and she was settled on the leather seat.
“You’ve been entertaining me all day with your storytelling,” he said, “painting me a picture of your life. Perhaps you’d care to hear a folk story from mine.”
“I would love to hear a story.” If truth be told, that accent of his was so sexy, she’d be happy to listen to him all night.
Love of Her Lives Page 8