Hold on to the Nights

by Karen Foley

  Graeme eyed a weasel with distaste. “I don’t think we made it out of our room long enough to notice the decor in the rest of the inn.”

  “I hope they don’t extend into the pub. I’m not sure I could eat with so many eyes watching me.”

  Thankfully, the decor in the pub ran to Scottish sports memorabilia and wide-screen televisions over the bar. Graeme and Lara chose a cozy booth in a corner and the bartender that Lara had spoken with earlier came around to their table.

  “Evenin’, folks. Can I interest you in a local draft?” He smiled at Lara, but when he turned his attention to Graeme, his eyes widened and Lara could have sworn all the color drained from his face.

  “I’ll have the amber ale,” she said, giving Graeme an I-told-you-so look.

  When the bartender gave no indication that he’d even heard Lara, Graeme arched an eyebrow at the other man. “Is everything okay?”

  The young man visibly pulled himself together. “Oh, aye. Terribly sorry about that. It’s just that you look so much like this bloke on television.” Jerking his gaze from Graeme, he fixed his attention on the small notepad he held in his hand. “An amber ale,” he repeated, his gaze flicking between the two of them. “And for you, sir?”

  Graeme gave Lara an amused look. “I’ll have the same.”

  “Verra well. I’ll bring those right over.”

  He turned abruptly away and Lara covered her mouth to hide her smile. “Nobody will recognize you, huh?”

  Graeme stared after the bartender with a puzzled expression on his face. “He didn’t seem especially star-struck. Maybe he’s not a Galaxy’s End fan,” he mused.

  “Or maybe his girlfriend is, and the poor guy has had to endure listening to her gush about you every Thursday night,” Lara teased. “I’d probably hate you, too.”

  Graeme reached across the table and took her hands. “But you don’t.”

  “Well, only when you do that thing that makes me wild, and then you hold back—”

  “Here ye are,” interrupted a feminine voice, and they both looked up to see the woman from the reception desk holding their mugs of beer. “Two amber ales.” She set the drinks down on the table and beamed at both of them. “Are you settlin’ in, then? Is the room to your liking?”

  “The room is perfect,” smiled Lara. “It’s exactly as I remember it.”

  “Oh, ye’ve been here before, have ye?”

  Lara caught the warning look in Graeme’s eyes. “Um, yes, but it was a long time ago.”

  “The posting inn has been in my family for generations.” The woman extended her hand to Lara. “I’m Margaret Dunbar.” She gestured toward the bar area. “That’s my son, Robbie. I have two daughters who do the cooking. If ye like fish, try the Arbroath smokie or the wild salmon.”

  “Do you run the inn, then?” Graeme asked, taking a swallow of his beer.

  “Aye, these past ten years, since the death of my father. When were ye last here?”

  “Five years ago, in August. As I recall, the innkeeper was a bald-headed man with a red beard.”

  “Ah,” she smiled. “That would be my brother. He comes in and works when I’m on vacation.” She tapped a finger against her chin. “Five years ago in August, you said? That must have been the weekend that I took young Robbie to university. The one weekend I wasn’t here and all hell broke loose. Maybe ye recall that?”

  Graeme took a sip of his ale. “No, sorry. What happened?”

  The woman waved a dismissive hand. “An elopement, an angry father, the usual.” She leaned a hip against their table, relishing her story. “We’re verra close to the border here, so we sometimes get young couples from England looking to jump over the anvil. It’s not usually anything to talk about, but I guess this father got rather nasty with the bridegroom, threatening all kinds of horrible things.”

  Lara looked sharply at Graeme, but he was staring at his mug. A frown knitted his brow.

  “The lassie was dragged away and the poor lad was near out of his mind, I heard. He made a public spectacle of himself, promising to go after the girl. Ah, young love. Weel, enjoy yer meal,” she said, and moved away from their table.

  “She might not have been talking about us,” Lara whispered, leaning across the table.

  Graeme gave her a patient look. “Of course she was talking about us. I made a public scene here in the lobby, challenging your father and promising I’d find you and get you back. It’s a wonder they haven’t written a bloody ballad about it.” He drained his beer.

  Lara stared at him. “You told my father you’d come after me?”

  Graeme shrugged. “I was young and foolish.”

  But Lara’s heart was pounding so hard it was a wonder he didn’t hear it from across the table. “Did you, Graeme? Did you come after me?”

  When he looked at her, she saw the bitter regret in his eyes. “Would it have made any difference if I had?”

  Lara made a choked sound of dismay. “You know it would have. You don’t know what my life was like before I met you…. You were the first person who really saw me. Until you, I’d been invisible. Do you know how hard it was for me to leave you that day? Do you?”

  “I told myself it didn’t matter.” He absently played with the beer coaster. “My life had been going fine before you walked into it.” He gave her a rueful smile. “At least, I thought so. But then you came along, like this pure sunbeam in a dusty room, and suddenly I wanted more.” Pushing the coaster aside, he leaned forward and Lara was stunned by the intensity of his expression. “I wanted to be the man you believed I was. I wanted to do great things for you. I wanted to capture the moon for you, but that was before I realized that you already had enough money to buy the sun and the moon.”

  Lara made a sound of distress and Graeme covered her hand with his own. “No, let me finish. I told myself that you’d only been slumming when you spent that summer with me. But Christ, you gave me…yourself. And after you left, I couldn’t ever look at my life the same way again. Was I angry?” His fingers tightened around hers. “You bet. I wanted to go after you and drag you back by your hair, lock you in a tower like the fairytale princess you imagined yourself to be and never let you go.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Lara knew her heart was in her eyes, but she no longer cared.

  “I did, Lara. I did.”

  Lara stared at him in disbelief. “But…how? I never saw you.”

  He gave a bitter laugh. “My entrance visa was denied. They turned me away in New York and put me on the next flight back to England.”

  Lara sat back in her seat, speechless. He had come after her. She didn’t need to ask why his visa had been denied; she knew enough about the State Department and her father’s influence to understand exactly what had happened. She could only imagine how angry Graeme must have been.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I never knew.”

  Graeme gave her a lopsided grin. “I know, and I don’t blame you for any of it.”

  “Why didn’t you write to me? Tell me what had happened?”

  “Because I knew the one thing you’d never had was the freedom to make your own choices. I decided that if you wanted to return to me, then it had to be your decision, not mine.”

  “I can’t believe the lengths my father went to in order to keep us apart,” she breathed.

  “He did it because he loved you, and he didn’t think I was good enough for you. Ah, don’t cry. I’m here now.” Reaching across the table, he swiped away the moisture on her cheek.

  “So much of what happened that summer was my own fault,” she said miserably. “I should never have lied to you about my age.”

  Graeme gave a rueful laugh. “I was shocked. You looked so sweet and innocent that I couldn’t believe you’d duped me so completely. But in Scotland, a girl can marry when she’s sixteen. It doesn’t happen very often, mind you, but it does happen. Our marriage was legal in the eyes of the law, and your father knew it. I knew it. Besides, we’d already
spent two days together and you weren’t a child anymore. If he’d arrived before we’d consummated the marriage then I would most likely have signed his stupid papers, but not after two days of having you in my arms. God forgive me, Lara, but I couldn’t let you go.”

  Lara drew in a deep breath, her eyes locked with his. “How did you finally get your visa approved?”

  Graeme smiled grimly. “Money talks. After the pilot episode of Galaxy’s End aired, it became a whole lot easier to find a lawyer who was willing to investigate the issue and have my visa approved. But by then, three years had passed and I’d given up on ever getting you back. I told myself that I’d moved on with my life.”

  Lara looked down at their linked hands. “That’s what I told myself, too.”

  “Excuse me, but yer meals are here.”

  Startled, they broke apart to see Margaret standing by their table, a steaming plate in each hand. She placed their food on the table, but didn’t leave. She clasped her hands in front of her and turned hopeful eyes on Graeme.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t see it immediately, but might I say what an honor and a privilege it is to have ye staying at our inn, Mr. Hamilton?”

  Lara glanced at Graeme. He looked both amused and resigned. “Thank you very much. I’m glad to be here.”

  “My son recognized ye first. We’re both huge fans of yer work, and I was wondering if ye might be willing to sign an autograph or two?”

  “Of course.”

  Lara watched as the woman gestured frantically at her son, who came around from the end of the bar with two pictures in his hands. He laid them down on the table and Lara saw they were publicity photos of Graeme as Kip Corrigan.

  “I knew it was you as soon as I came to take yer order,” the young man acknowledged, “so I printed these from the Internet in the hopes that ye might sign them.”

  Graeme shot Lara a wry look. “You were right.”

  Lara smiled and folded her hands in her lap and watched as he signed the pictures in bold, scrawling print. He handed them back to the young man who grinned his thanks.

  “So this is what your life is like,” mused Lara. “You handle it very well.”

  Graeme gave her a rueful smile as he took a bite of his salmon. “I’m on my best behavior. I’m not always so accommodating, I’m afraid.”

  Lara tipped her head and looked at him. “Why are you on your best behavior?”

  Before he could answer, Margaret approached their table again, and Lara could almost see Graeme brace himself for another request.

  “I’m sorry to disturb ye,” she said, “but there’s a lady in the lobby asking for ye.”

  “For me?” Graeme looked genuinely surprised.

  “Well, actually, she’s looking for yer wife.”

  “For me?” Lara echoed in astonishment. Nobody knew she was in Scotland except—“Valerie!”

  The other woman stood in the doorway of the pub, peering at the tables until she spotted Lara. Her face cleared and she quickly made her way toward their table.

  “Oh, Lara, I’m so glad I found you!” She stopped at their table, breathless and looking uncharacteristically rumpled.

  Lara shot to her feet, taking in Val’s bright eyes and disheveled appearance. “Valerie, what is it? Are you okay?”

  “Christopher is parking the car. He’ll be here any minute!”

  Lara felt her heart turn over in her chest. “Christopher is here? In Scotland?”

  “I know, right?” Valerie flapped her hand. “I couldn’t dissuade him from coming, but he’s right behind me and I wanted to at least give you a little bit of warning.” Her glance flicked to Graeme, who had stood up, and Lara saw her friend’s eyes go a little hazy at the sight of him.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” Lara demanded, catching Val’s elbow and drawing the other woman down into the booth.

  “Why didn’t you turn your cell phone on?” Val hissed back, smiling sweetly at Graeme.

  Lara silently acknowledged that her friend had a point. “Val, this is Graeme Hamilton.”

  Valerie gave a nervous twitter of laughter and stretched her hand across the table toward Graeme. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you! I’ve heard all about you of course, and—”

  Lara gave her a hard elbow, and Val abruptly closed her mouth. “Valerie is my roommate,” she explained, seeing Graeme’s bemusement.

  “Ah.”

  “How did you know where to find us?”

  Valerie gave Lara a tolerant look. “I’ve only had to listen to you talk about this place about a gazillion times.” She turned to Graeme. “You may have only spent two days here, but trust me when I say your little getaway made quite the impression.”

  “Valerie!” hissed Lara, mortified. She risked a glance at Graeme, but he was watching Valerie with amusement. When his glance flicked to her, she saw the heat in their depths, and flushed.

  “Oh, and here comes Christopher now.” Valerie stood up and waved frantically to the man who stood in the entrance of the pub, pushing his glasses up on his nose as he surveyed the room.

  Lara watched her former boyfriend cross the pub toward them. He looked even more rumpled and travel weary than Valerie did. He ran a hand distractedly through his hair as he approached their table, and Lara didn’t miss how his gaze swept first over her, and then lingered on Graeme, sizing the other man up with an assessing look. He stood at the end of the table, clearly uncomfortable, and cleared his throat. “Hello, Lara.”

  “Christopher, I—I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I don’t know what to say.” Lara had never felt so awkward before, and she could only guess what he must think of her, knowing she had lied to him about where she was these past several days.

  To her surprise, he gave her a gentle smile. “It’s okay, Lara. Val explained everything and considering the, uh, unusual circumstances, I completely understand.”

  “Why are you here?” Lara asked, her gaze sliding between Christopher and Valerie.

  To her dismay, Christopher reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a newspaper. “This is just a sample of what’s on the front page of every gossip rag in the country. The television networks picked it up today.”

  He tossed the paper onto the table.

  There, in enormous headlines, were the words, Graeme Hamilton Makes Secret Deal for Stud Service.

  What?

  A low growl came from Graeme and he dragged the paper across the table, his expression growing darker with each passing second as he scanned the article.

  “What does it say?” Lara asked, dread settling into her bones.

  “Lara, honey, we came as soon as we could,” Val said. “We didn’t want you to see this on the news without any prior warning.”

  “Well, our marriage is no longer a secret. They know all about you, and it says here that ye’ll grant me a divorce if I agree to give ye a baby in return,” snarled Graeme, his Scottish accent becoming more pronounced with his growing displeasure. “The article goes on to say that I’ll be single again just as soon as I provide my estranged wife with stud service.”

  Lara blanched. “But that’s impossible. We never—”

  “This is Tony’s doing,” Graeme said grimly, raising his eyes to Lara’s.

  “But why would he promote such blatant lies? Why would he do this to us?”

  “This is his idea of damage control. He wants my fans to think I’ll be back on the market again soon, and probably believes this story will boost my ratings.” Graeme’s voice was dark with displeasure.

  Lara’s mouth dropped, and she stared at Graeme in disbelief. “How is this damage control? This is the most damaging publicity I’ve ever seen! Not to mention that it’s a complete lie.”

  Graeme’s hand fisted around the newspaper. “Tony has a reputation for enjoying the dramatic. The more media hype surrounding his clients, the better he likes it. He probably thinks he’s doing me a favor by assuring my fans that I’ll soon be single again, just as so
on as I provide ye with stud service, of course.”

  “Where would he have come up with this idea?” Lara moaned and covered her face with her hands. “It was the waitress at the restaurant that morning, I know it. She must have overheard part of our conversation and talked to someone else, and somehow Tony found out about it.”

  “Yeah, it wouldn’t take long for a rumor like that to circulate through the hotel staff and reach him.” Graeme yanked his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in Tony’s number. A moment later, he snapped it shut in frustration. “He’s not answering his calls. Shit.”

  “Listen, the paparazzi are probably already on the hunt for you,” Christopher said, bracing his hands on the edge of the table. “My suggestion is that Lara come back to the States with us now, before the insanity begins. She can get some clothes together and come stay with me for a while, until this whole thing dies down.”

  “No.” Lara and Graeme both said the word at the same time.

  Graeme half rose to from his seat and leaned toward the other man. “I appreciate that you’re a friend of Lara’s, but I’ll take care of her,” he said tightly. “She won’t be staying with you.”

  Christopher raised both hands in surrender. “Fine. No problem. It was just a suggestion.”

  At that moment, the innkeeper, Margaret, approached their table. “Will yer friends be joining ye for dinner, then?” she asked, her glance sliding between the four of them.

  “Oh, thank you, no,” Valerie replied. “We’re actually a little jet-lagged.” She looked up at Christopher. “Maybe we should just book two rooms and get some sleep, and let Lara and Graeme work this whole thing out.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Margaret interjected, “but we don’t have any more rooms available at the moment. This is a popular weekend for travelers and we’re fully booked.”

  Valerie groaned and dropped her head onto her arms. “Great. This is what I get for trying to be a good friend—stuck in the wilds of Scotland with no place to sleep. Where’s William Wallace when you need him?”

  “Er, guys? I think you might want to take a look at the television,” said Christopher, nodding toward the wide-screen over the bar.