Anna regarded him from under her eyelashes. Why was he being so possessive? Could he possibly be envious of her old friendship with Alistair? Was there a chance, a slender chance that he saw their relationship as something more than a casual fling? When she finally spoke her voice was soft, almost a whisper.
“What do you take me for? Of course I said no. But would it really matter to you, if I had said yes?”
Luke pulled her into the shadows, crushing her to him. His eyes never left hers for an instant, as his mouth took hers with a savage intensity.
“Does that answer your question?”
“No!” she wailed, bursting into tears. She pushed him away and turning on her heel, sprinted back towards the house.
The sound of singing floating over the crowded, hushed room brought her to an abrupt halt. Morag’s pure, hauntingly beautiful soprano melted her frail composure. She closed her eyes and tried to shut out the pain, but the poignancy of the Eriskay Love Lilt sliced open her heart. She fought back her tears as Morag sang the verse.
When I’m lonely dear white heart,
Black the night or wild the sea,
By love’s light my foot finds
The old pathway to thee.
Desperate to be on her own, Anna wove her way through the ballroom into a long dark corridor. Old portraits of long-dead Grants stared down at her, accusing her of abandoning their descendent so abruptly. She tried not to look at the rows of eyes. They almost seemed fixed on her. A trick of the light? The intent of the artist?
Artist. Luke.
She didn’t want to think about him now. She had to get out.
After a couple of wrong turns, she eventually arrived in the main hallway and was faced with a choice of four doors. The first opened into a formal morning room, complete with lumpy-looking sofas and tired floral chintz curtains. The second door she opened contained a chain-pull lavatory and small washbasin that looked as if they had been installed when the house was built.
She pushed open the third door and was relieved to find a small cosy sitting room where a welcoming fire burned in the grate. Settling back against the deep blue velvet sofa cushions, she forced herself to relax, breathing deeply until she was sure no more tears would fall. She looked at her watch; it was barely ten o’clock and the ceilidh wouldn’t finish until well after midnight. Somehow she had to find the strength to get through the rest of the evening.
The door creaked open.
Luke.
“Anna, we need to talk.”
“I’m not sure I have anything to say to you right now.”
He squatted down in front of her and took her hand in his. “I owe you an apology. I was way out of line. These are your friends and I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”
She gave a choked, desperate laugh. “And you think that flimsy apology makes it all right?”
“No, I don’t. I hurt you, and I never intended that to happen. Anna, look at me.”
She swallowed hard, lifted her chin and boldly met his gaze.
“I saw Grant’s hands on you and I got pissed. He looked like he was going to drag you off the dance floor and with everything else that’s been happening to you, I was worried for your safety. How could I know he was just an old friend?”
“You couldn’t, but this conversation isn’t just about your behaviour.”
He stood up and pushed his hands deep into his pockets. “Then what is it about?”
“It’s about how we feel—”
“Why, here you are!” Morag said breathlessly, entering the room. She flopped down into a chair and fanned her flushed face. “I’ve been looking all over for the two of you. You have to admit, Mr. Alistair has done us proud this year. Everyone is having a marvellous time. I hope you’re going to sing for us, Anna.” She turned to Luke and smiled. “She has such a wonderful voice. An alto. Far better than mine.”
“Morag, I don’t think Luke is interested in my singing abilities. Now, I don’t know about you two, but all this dancing has made me hungry. Shall we go through to the buffet?” She rose fluidly from the chair and started walking toward the door, stopping only briefly to look over her shoulder at Luke. “Are you coming?”
While her friends enjoyed the delights of their host’s table, Anna pushed the food around her plate. She’d lost her appetite, and for her, the evening was officially a disaster. After supper, she steadfastly refused to sing, despite Morag’s entreaties. She didn’t have it in her heart to perform to an audience, preferring instead to let her friend take centre stage.
Luke’s behaviour had not only upset her, but had given her a headache too. Every time she looked at him, she wanted to hurt him. He doggedly remained by her side throughout the rest of the evening, even accompanying her on the dance floor for some of the less energetic dances.
Outwardly, Anna was smiling and happy, but inside she was a mass of conflicting emotions. By the time the clock struck one, her headache had reached mammoth proportions, and she could take no more. When the band finally struck up the opening chords of Auld Lang Syne she breathed a sigh of relief. She joined the circle, linking hands with Luke and Morag, and sang along with everyone else, but all she really wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed—alone.
Anna climbed into the passenger seat of the Land Rover, closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. Still annoyed with Luke for his behaviour toward Alistair, she had nothing to say to him as he drove them back to the croft.
A soft sigh escaped her lips as the elderly vehicle rattled over the last cattle grid. Without waiting for Luke to open the door, she climbed out, marched up to the front door, and inserted her key into the lock. Ensay and Rhona, tired of being shut in, greeted her like a long-lost friend before rushing outside into the twilight.
It was humid, and out over the loch storm clouds gathered. Anna followed the dogs down to the beach and looked out across the dark, mysterious waters of the loch. Luke’s yacht rode silently on its mooring, the tall mast appearing to touch the stars.
Despite the warning voice in her head, she had walked into their relationship with her heart wide open, knowing that once the part Luke needed arrived, there’d be no reason for him to stay. Yet part of her hoped that he would.
Luke took off his jacket and placed it round her shoulders. When his hand brushed the back of her neck, she turned to face him. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into the warmth of his body. He rested his forehead against hers.
“Am I forgiven for being an idiot?”
The touch of his hand on her cheek was unbearably tender, and she felt a familiar rush of desire. Half-heartedly she tried to push him away, but the need grew and grew until all her resistance dissipated. When his mouth claimed hers in a slow, thoughtful kiss, she was lost.
“No…Yes,” she whispered against his lips, her voice husky with passion.
The first rumble of thunder echoed round the hills. Luke scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the house. The dogs followed at his heels. In the hallway, he paused to lock the door and turn out the lights then carried her upstairs to their bedroom.
Once inside, his lips recaptured hers in a demanding kiss that left her breathless and wanting more. When he lowered the zipper on her dress, she was powerless to stop him. It fell to the floor as his hands began a slow sensuous dance over her body. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All she wanted was him loving her—forever.
His lips seared a path down her neck to her breasts and a delicious shudder spread through her body that left her gasping for breath. She watched him outline her hardening nipples through the lace of her bra with his fingertips. Heat surged through her as he continued to stroke and tease until she was hot and breathless. She felt his fingers snap open the clasp. Gently his hands caressed her breasts, his thumbs rubbing the taut nubs.
Anna arched her back, inviting him to touch and taste. When his hot, hungry mouth replaced his hands, she cried out his name. In her haste to feel his body against hers
she tore at his shirt, sending the buttons flying across the carpet. Even though her heart fought a battle with her mind, her body ached for his.
He lifted her onto the bed and quickly undressed before lowering his body over hers. With long, lazy strokes, he explored the creamy expanse of her flat stomach and thighs. Her body quivered in response. She inhaled sharply as pleasure radiated through her. When Luke pulled aside the silk of her panties, seeking the core of her desire, she moaned.
“Luke, I need you to…”
“Yes”
“I want you inside of me…now.”
“Anna, look at me,” he demanded.
Their eyes locked. She felt his hot silky length enter her. Her hands raked his back, sending them both over the edge as the first shudders of her orgasm surged through her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The following morning, Anna lay in the drowsy warmth of their bed and listened to the sound of raindrops falling on the window. She stretched languidly, enjoying the luxury of a lie-in. The sound of the radio, accompanied by Luke’s tuneless whistle, drifted up from the kitchen below, along with the smell of bacon cooking. She rolled over to look at the clock on the bedside table and was surprised to see it was nine-thirty. Stifling a yawn, she threw back the quilt, climbed out of bed and padded to the window to draw back the curtains.
The storm that had swept in overnight from the Atlantic had passed, leaving the mountains shrouded in mist. With any luck, Anna thought, it would burn off before lunch. She smiled to herself. It was a typical Scottish summer, fine one day, raining the next.
After a quick shower, she dressed and followed the scent of coffee downstairs. She paused to pat the heads of the two dogs lying on the mat at the bottom of the stairs, and then entered the kitchen. Luke sat at the kitchen table, eating breakfast.
“Aren’t you going to work today?”
Anna poured herself a cup of coffee and carried it to the table. “Not until later. Ewan hired some extra help so that the staff could attend the ceilidh. They’ll deal with breakfast and clean the rooms. I agreed to go in this afternoon to help serve high tea and dinner.”
“Judging by what I saw last night, there’ll be a whole lot of folk with hangovers this morning. What a fun bunch they’ll be.”
“Aye, no doubt. Even Morag was a more than a little bit tipsy.” Anna buttered a slice of toast and put it on his plate. Then she rethought the gesture and reached to take it back.
“Hey, that’s mine!” He smacked her hand gently. “It’s pretty miserable out, Anna. Too wet for a long walk. What are you going to do with your morning off?”
She chewed thoughtfully on another bite of toast. “Unfortunately, the dogs need exercising regardless of the weather, unless of course, you’ve already taken them out.”
Luke shrugged. “Whoops.”
“In that case, I’ll take them for a run. And I really ought to work on my manuscript. I’m way behind schedule. Are you going to eat that?” she asked, indicating a piece of bacon on his plate.
“Why?”
Anna smiled sweetly. “It would go nicely with my toast.”
Luke laughed. “I’m sure it would.” He stabbed the rasher with his fork and took a bite, making a show of his enjoyment. “If you want more, feel free to make some.”
“You’re very ill-mannered, Mr. Tallantyre, even though you’re a handsome devil.”
“Anna, about last night—”
“There’s really no need to explain.”
“I disagree. After my temper tantrum, I thought you would be so pissed off at me that you might want me to leave.”
“That’s just silly,” she said, pleased at how nonchalant her voice sounded. “We’re both adults. Anyway, you weren’t the only one acting like the playground bully. Alistair’s behaviour wasn’t exactly exemplary either. I think what happened is best forgotten.”
Luke’s face split into a wide grin. “I thought I would row over and check on the yacht, if you’ll be all right on your own for an hour or two.” He cut a piece of sausage and offered it to her.
She shook her head and swallowed the last of her coffee. She walked into the hall, pulled on her boots and waxed jacket.
“Hang on. I’ll come with you.” Luke put his empty plate in the sink, and then snatched his coat off the hook and followed her outside.
They stood on the beach. The pebbles were grey. So were the sky and the water, and the fine mist-like rain.
Anna squinted at Sandpiper. “You worry too much about me. You would think I was six. I was right about the other night; it was just a disorientated hillwalker. I’ve told you a dozen times, the girls and I are used to our own company.”
“I don’t think you’re six. I know you’re a strong independent woman, but you have to admit these are unusual times. Stray hillwalker or not, I don’t want you wandering too far from the croft on your own until we get everything figured out.”
“I’m not going far, just up to the bothy and back. I won’t be long—perhaps three-quarters of an hour—an hour at most, that’s all.”
“A bothy? What’s that?”
“It’s a kind of shelter,” Anna replied fastening the hood of her jacket. “There are a few on the estate. Most of them are tumbledown ruins inhabited by sheep.”
“I still don’t like it. I’ll go with you.”
She rested a hand on his arm. “No, you won’t. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“If you’re not here when I finish checking the yacht, you know I’ll come looking for you.”
“Luke, that isn’t a good idea, not in this mist. I don’t want you getting lost.”
“Be careful. Promise?” He kissed her cheek.
“I will.” Anna untied the dinghy and handed him the line. She called the dogs to heel and walked off in the direction of the waterfall, her mind full of the events of the previous evening.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t understand why Alistair continued to show interest in her, especially after Morag’s revelations about his playboy lifestyle in France. She certainly wasn’t his social calibre. Her wardrobe consisted of jeans, sweatshirts, and chain store clothes. She didn’t know the names of current designers, let alone own any of their creations. Yet, there was a certain attraction to his half-said offer.
He’d behaved oddly. She’d hoped he might have forgotten about the invitation to dinner, but she wasn’t surprised when he brought the subject up again. Something about his manner had warned her against accepting. Why did he keep on saying that the estate and his lifestyle could be hers? It was as if he was proposing marriage without saying the actual words.
Marriage. Something she never allowed herself to dream about. No one had ever asked her. Not even Mark.
She wondered if Luke had thought about it. He’d been engaged before, so wasn’t opposed to the idea. Did he ever think of it with her?
Was she just a summer distraction, or did he love her? While she longed to hear his answer, she lacked the courage to ask him. Besides, no matter what the duration of their relationship, she couldn’t betray him by having dinner with Alistair, at least not right now. All of which left her no option but to let things take their natural course.
Oblivious to the fine rain soaking her hair, she trudged on through the bracken and heather towards the old shepherd’s bothy high up on the hill. Stone built and with a corrugated-iron roof, it was originally constructed to provide shelter for the estate’s stalkers. Rarely used now, except by hillwalkers as a place to camp out in overnight, it was devoid of furniture and although never locked, the door stood ajar.
Curious, she signalled the dogs to wait in the porch, and cautiously stepped inside. She gasped in fright at the sight of a strange man standing by the fireplace. Middle-aged, with a deeply creased face; he dangled a half-smoked cigarette from the corner of his mouth. His unshaven face looked as if it had been carved, badly, from granite. A tattered waxed jacket was thrown on the floor, and the tweeds he wore, she noted, w
ere well worn and splattered with mud. His eyes were the colour of flint—as grey as the sky and the sea—and they were hiding something.
She cleared her throat, and tried to sound much braver than she felt. “Good morning. I haven’t seen you around before.”
He doffed his cap, revealing a round, bald head. He stubbed out his cigarette on the floor.
“Sorry if I started you miss. Name’s MacKinnon. I’m the new factor on the estate. I’ve been tracking an injured stag. I got caught out by the weather and thought I would shelter in here until the worst passes. That’s not a problem, is it?”
“The bothy is on estate land. I can hardly object. Did you put the poor beast out of its misery?”
“Aye, miss, that I did. A bullet straight through the heart. It’s the only way to kill ‘em,” he replied, deliberately stroking the barrel of his gun where it rested against the wall.
“I didn’t see a stag outside.”
“It’s down the hill a way. I’m just waiting for the lad with the garron, the Highland pony. Once he arrives, we’ll load up the carcass and carry it back to the estate.”
Anna shivered and nervously bit her lip. MacKinnon’s emotionless voice made her flesh creep. He suddenly took a step toward her.
“Have no fear of old Mac. I’d never lie to you.”
She stepped back. “Well, you have everything under control. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Wait! You’re soaked to the skin. Why don’t you stay here until the worst of the downpour is over? The last group of walkers left some kindling and logs in the porch, I could light a fire. I’ve even got a drop of the hard stuff to help keep out the chill.” He pulled a small silver flask from his pocket and gave her a twisted smile.
“That’s…er very kind of you, Mr. MacKinnon…but I really should be going. Friend…my friend back at the house will be wondering where I am. And the dogs they’ll be getting restless and bored, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be getting on my way.” As calmly as she could, Anna turned and walked away, her pace matching her increasing heartbeat.
She kept walking until she judged she was out of sight of the bothy and then broke into a run. The dogs ran beside her. She didn’t stop until they reached the top of the waterfall. She bent over, hands on knees, winded, but feeling safer. She sat down on a boulder and patted the dogs’ heads.
The House on the Shore Page 19