Heart Melter

by Sophia Knightly

  “Are you going to work now?” she asked, sounding disappointed.

  “Aye, I need to prepare for tomorrow’s meetings.” He pulled his laptop out and turned it on.

  “Oh.” She grew silent and watched him with curious eyes.

  “What?” he said at last.

  “You haven’t asked me any questions about…you know. My situation.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth and waited.

  “I heard enough from Ranald,” he said tight-lipped.

  One graceful brow lifted. “Maybe you should hear it from me.”

  “Not now. I can’t discuss it without wanting to throttle you. What were you thinking getting involved with a shady nightclub owner with connections to a crime syndicate?” Ian shook his head in disgust.

  She sucked in an outraged breath and glared at him, blue eyes sparking. “I didn’t know he was a shady nightclub owner with connections to a crime syndicate!”

  “You were naïve and reckless to date the scunner,” he said curtly.

  Natasha’s chin shot up with high indignation. She opened her mouth to retort, but shut it when the flight attendant approached with their drinks and dinner trays.

  When Lori left, Natasha said, “I had no idea Tony had ties to the mob. It came as a total surprise. I also didn’t know he was murdered. I thought his death had been an accident.”

  Her revelation slammed into his gut. “Murdered? I didn’t know that part.”

  “Well you do now, and for your information, I stopped dating him way before it happened,” she huffed. “That’s all I care to talk about. Let’s eat.”

  “Fine,” he grunted, spreading the white cloth napkin on his lap.

  “Fine,” she repeated, taking a long swig of wine. Natasha buttered a piece of crusty roll and chewed it slowly. Ian watched her dip a chunk of meaty lobster in drawn butter and relish every bite. Her lips glistened as she finished both lobster tails, focused on her meal, not Ian

  She might not want to talk about it anymore, but one thing was certain. He would make damn sure Maggie and Ranald didn’t let Tasha out of their sight while she was in Glenhaven. Her situation was even grimmer than he’d suspected.

  They ate in weighty silence and when they finished, Natasha took off her boots and snuggled under the comforter on the recliner. She turned on her side and fell asleep, her slim and curvy back facing Ian as he worked. He stared at her red-gold hair, her delicate shoulders and the graceful line of her spine for a long while.

  He wouldn’t have a moment’s peace until he knew she was safe again.

  When they landed in Inverness, Ian thanked the two pilots, Ron and Jeremy, and Lori, the flight attendant, before deplaning. They went through the formalities at the airport and cleared customs in no time.

  Feeling awkward, Natasha quietly stood beside Ian outside Inverness Airport. His unfair criticism and accusations earlier had aroused frustration in her. Now she felt regret as she gazed into his earnest eyes.

  “Stay at Glenhaven the whole time you’re there. Don’t venture into town unless you’re with Maggie and Ranald,” Ian said firmly.

  She looked heavenward. “Isn’t that going a bit overboard?” From the resolute angle of his jaw, he didn’t seem to think so.

  “Promise,” he said, his steely voice inflexible.

  “Okay, I promise. Dinny get yer knickers in a twist,” she said, affecting a Scottish burr.

  Ian chuckled in spite of his somber mood. “Look, there’s Uncle Ranald.”

  Ranald drove up in a white Land Rover and parked it beside them. He enveloped Natasha in a bear hug first and then hugged Ian effusively. Shorter than Ian by several inches, Ranald was nevertheless strong and sturdy for a man in his mid-seventies. His long face split into a wide grin.

  “Welcome back, dearie. Isn’t she a wee bonnie lass, Ian?” Ranald’s green eyes twinkled as he beamed at Natasha.

  “Aye,” Ian said good-naturedly. “That she is.”

  “Thank you, Ranald. You’re too sweet,” Natasha said, kissing the older man’s weathered cheek.

  “I have to go now. I’m leaving Tasha in your care, Uncle Ranald. Keep an eye on her. She likes to roam when she’s in Scotland,” Ian said, giving Ranald a private wink.

  Natasha rolled her eyes. “You make me sound like one of your sheep.”

  “Nae, a lamb,” Ranald quipped as he opened the trunk. He and Ian loaded the suitcases while Natasha lifted Evita’s kennel.

  “Is that the famous Evita, then?” Ranald threw his head back and laughed when he got a good look at her. “Will you look at her get up?”

  Evita lifted her proud little snout and barked at him. She looked fabulous in her cashmere coat and little plaid collar and she knew it. The camel colored coat complemented her orange sable fur perfectly.

  “I have to go now,” Ian said.

  Natasha peered up at him and smiled. “Thank you for everything. I appreciate it very much,” she said sincerely and deposited a kiss on each of his lean cheeks, European style. She wished she could linger longer, but she noticed Ranald’s eyes dancing as he watched her.

  “You’re welcome. Mind what I said and be extra careful,” Ian said with a meaningful look. “Good bye, Uncle Ranald. I’ll call tomorrow.”

  Natasha watched Ian’s strong, proud back as he retreated to his jet and climbed the gangway. Tears stung her eyes when she realized it might be the last time she’d see him. She blinked rapidly, hoping Ranald hadn’t noticed her momentary weakness. Ian was returning to New York from London and he hadn’t said a word about seeing her again.

  With a dejected sigh, she straightened her spine and tried not to look morose as they drove away. Evita cuddled on her lap and licked her hand, sensing Natasha’s melancholy mood. Good thing they were riding next to Ranald, who was easygoing and great company. He would keep her distracted with amusing accounts of the village’s latest news. Ian had once said his chatty uncle was the only man he knew who loved to gossip.

  “So what’s the hottest news this week?” Natasha said in an attempt to chase away the blues at parting from Ian.

  Ranald handled the steering wheel with one hand and scratched Evita’s ears with the other. “Let’s see now.” He pondered the question for a moment. “Bettina Roberts just had cosmetic work done in Glasgow and she looks verra different.”

  “What did she have done?”

  Ranald’s hand left the steering wheel as both his hands made a circular, bouncing motion in front of his chest.

  “A boob job?” Natasha giggled at his pantomime.

  Ranald nodded and grinned devilishly. “It’s no secret, but don’t tell Maggie I told you.”

  “Is Bettina still after Ian?” Bettina was a cute and outgoing masseuse in her mid-thirties who was Ian’s ardent admirer. She came to Glenhaven twice a month to give Maggie and Ranald Swedish massages—Ian too, when he was in town.

  Ranald chuckled and shook his headful of shaggy white hair. “Aye, that one won’t give up, but Ian has had a girlfriend for two years now.”

  Girlfriend? It caught Natasha unaware, but why should she be surprised that he had a girlfriend? Most women would consider him a hot catch, with a capital H.

  “Who is she? What’s her name?” Natasha tried not to act distressed, but it wasn’t working.

  “Danielle Parkhurst.” Ranald didn’t take his eyes off the road as he concentrated on the winding path. “She’s a dermatologist who worked with him in Doctors Without Borders.”

  “Oh.” Natasha strove to keep the disappointment she felt out of her voice and off her facial expression. “So they’ve been together for two years you said?” she asked in a light tone.

  “Aye…but it’s been on again off again because she lives in London. They keep breaking up and getting back together.” Ranald rubbed the tip of his ruddy nose. “Rather complicates things because Ian has been working with her to build his clinic in Edinburgh.”

  “Are they back together now?” Natasha’s stomach tightened wi
th jealousy. Not only were Ian and Danielle lovers, but they were working together on realizing Ian’s dream.

  “Maggie said they haven’t been getting along lately, so maybe it’s off again.” Ranald shrugged. “You should ask him.”

  “No, thanks.” She touched Ranald’s shirtsleeve. “Please don’t tell Ian I was asking. I was a little curious…that’s all.”

  Ranald’s weathered hand gave her shoulder a fond pat. “Ian is closed-mouthed about his love life. Maggie and I don’t dare ask him much about his women.”

  His women? “How many women are you talking about?” Natasha was embarrassed to ask, but she couldn’t help it.

  He tilted his head and his brows drew together as if he were counting them. “A few, but none have mattered as much as that Parkhurst girl,” he said after a long moment of deliberation.

  Natasha flinched. She couldn’t bear hearing about Ian’s love life, especially when it didn’t involve her. She had just spent several hours with him on his private jet, hoping to reconnect, but everything had gone downhill after they’d argued. She had hoped to open communication with him after she woke up from her nap, but Ian had been less than talkative. Even during the continental breakfast they’d shared later, he’d been brooding and pensive. When she’d tried to draw him into conversation, he’d said he was preoccupied with the upcoming meetings in London. Now she wondered if part of his pensiveness was the expectation of seeing Danielle.

  “Och, listen to me ramblin’ on. How was your trip over, lass?” Ranald turned to peer at her warmly through olive green eyes.

  “Amazing. I’d never been on a private jet before. The food was wonderful,” she said.

  “What did you eat?”

  “Ian arranged for a fine lobster dinner and then later, a nice breakfast.”

  “Did he now?” Ranald chuckled. “Jolly good. I’m glad the two of you have made amends. Maggie and I couldn’t be happier.”

  “Don’t get too excited. I wouldn’t exactly call it amends. Ian didn’t talk much, and I slept most of the way over.”

  “He’s not one for conversation when he’s preoccupied,” Ranald said, nodding.

  Preoccupied with Danielle, she thought, her heart sinking like a stone in water.

  They lapsed into amicable silence for the remainder of the drive as she looked around her, enchanted by the scenery. The Scottish Highlands were breathtaking in October. Purplish-pink heather mantled the moors in splendor, while clouds hung mistily over the fir trees and Highland peaks. Natasha never tired of the countryside with its verdant, sheep-covered mountains, jagged cliffs and resplendent glens. There was something entrancing about the volatile history of this magical land and the stalwart Scots who had defended it over the centuries from every type of invasive attack.

  When they reached the winding road to Ian's home, Natasha's heart leaped at the first sight of Glenhaven estate. An enchanting arch formed by two thick rows of tall larch trees lined the dirt road. She closed her eyes, momentarily memorizing the beauty of Ian's ancestors' land. She opened them wide just in time to see the turreted front of the fortified castle.

  “Oh, Ranald, everything is just as I remembered. So beautiful!” she murmured.

  He nodded. “Aye, lass, it is.” Ranald’s craggy face creased into a lopsided grin as he regarded her warmly.

  When they pulled up the drive, Maggie ran out of the heavy castle doors toward them. Natasha handed Evita to Ranald and threw her arms around Maggie, exuberantly embracing her ample body. Natasha loved the comforting feel of her girth, so unlike Anitra’s stick thin figure. They hugged and rocked from side to side for several moments while Evita yipped and howled. Maggie pulled back and studied Natasha, her soft brown eyes brimming with happy tears.

  "We’ve missed you, lovey," Maggie said, wiping her eyes as she gave a rueful shake of her short, salt and pepper curls. “You shouldn’t have stayed away so long! You’re always welcome here.”

  “Thank you, Maggie. I’ve missed you and Ranald so much too…and Glenhaven, of course.”

  Maggie turned her attention to Evita. “So this is my little god-doggy. She’s a redhead like you, lovey. Did you plan it that way?”

  “No, but my friend Ronnie did.” Ronnie had delighted in telling Natasha that Evita looked just like her, except for the brown eyes.

  Evita emitted a soulful howl. “And she sings too,” Maggie said, her shoulders shaking with mirth.

  While Maggie fussed over Evita, who rewarded her with happy licks, Natasha stared at the moss-covered, dark stone dwelling before her, awed by the magnificence of Glenhaven Castle. Bathed in misty rain and morning fog, the 16th century castle was peacefully cloistered from the noise and havoc of the 21st century. Natasha inhaled deeply of the cool, damp Scottish air to refresh her travel weary body.

  “Come inside.” Maggie’s pretty face was radiant as she ushered Natasha through the high-beamed, wood-paneled foyer into the warmth of centuries-old, Scottish grandeur. She led the way up the spiral staircase to the master bedroom while Ranald followed behind, huffing as he carried her suitcases.

  “Here, let me help you carry it. I’ll take one end,” Natasha offered, shifting Evita’s dog carrier to her other hand.

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Ranald blustered. “Ian told us you’re a wee bit knackered. He said you are here to rest and rest you will, my lass.”

  Natasha wryly shook her head. Ian was already mandating from afar and everyone was scrambling to obey—as usual.

  When they reached the second floor, Natasha stopped in front of the large portrait of Ian's mother, Fiona, dressed in a jade evening gown, her dark hair swept back from her beautiful face. Studying Fiona’s alabaster complexion, rosy cheeks and serene smile, Natasha didn't find much similarity between Ian and his mum except for the eyes, almost haunting in their silver-green intensity and framed by inky lashes.

  “I wish I could have met her," Natasha said. "It's a pity Ian lost his mother when he was only a boy."

  “Aye,” Maggie said. "He was verra close to her. Ian is just as passionate as Fiona was when it comes to his home."

  "Glenhaven is in his blood," Natasha said. “I didn’t come to realize how much until it was too late.”

  “It’s never too late,” Maggie said with conviction.

  “We’ll see,” Natasha said, remembering what Ranald had said about Danielle.

  Natasha followed Maggie into the master bedroom and watched her approach the tapestry-covered north wall. A vivid memory of the first time she'd laid eyes on the medieval tapestry of courtly love above the massive bed came rushing back to her. The memory so vibrant she could almost smell Ian’s clean, evergreen scent, feel his warm skin on her, taste the desire in his ravenous kisses. The laird of Glenhaven’s compelling presence filled the room, even if he was miles away.

  "I had the hidden chamber prepared since I know it’s your favorite. Do you want to sleep there?" Maggie’s motherly voice held a hint of hesitation as she watched her.

  “Sure. Ian isn’t here, so it’s fine,” Natasha said, tamping the shiver of excitement at staying so close to his master quarters.

  Maggie pushed aside the colorful Flemish tapestry. "Verra well, then."

  Underneath the tapestry was a hidden pocket door that Maggie slid into the wall. They walked through a dark corridor leading to a bolted door. Maggie unlocked the ancient wooden door and led Natasha inside the secret, little-used room.

  Chapter Five

  Maggie turned the lights on when they entered the cozy alcove. A four-poster bed, covered in a luxurious cream silk duvet, was in the center of the room, flanked by two dark mahogany carved tables topped by brass candle lamps. A rich sky blue, mint green and rose Belgian tapestry of flora and fauna hung on a burnished brass rod above the bed. Maggie briskly fluffed up the bed pillows and turned down the duvet.

  "You may place your things in here." Maggie unlocked the intricately carved mahogany armoire and handed the key to Natasha. It was a massive piece
of furniture, large enough to store her suitcases.

  “Thank you. Everything is lovely. I feel right at home.” Natasha slipped the key in her pants’ pocket and stood still, marveling at all the homey touches in the beautifully decorated room. She had always loved the secret chamber and how it felt like a serene cocoon. Quiet and incredibly peaceful, it was the perfect place to sing. She could sing as high as she wanted or belt a tune as loud as she wished without disturbing anyone.

  "Ian had a bathroom installed in this chamber last year, complete with a shower and bathtub. There's running hot water too," Ranald said proudly as he put the bags down beside the bed.

  “A warm soak in the tub would be heavenly. Thank you for the beautiful flowers," she said, indicating the crystal vase brimming with freshly cut crimson poppies on an antique vanity in front of the bed. “And for the ride over.”

  “You’re welcome. Maggie has been in a tizzy ever since your phone call,” Ranald said. “Wait till you see the sweater she knit for Evita.”

  Maggie waved him off with a scolding look. “Och, Mr. Duncan, now you spoiled it. It was supposed to be a surprise!” She turned to Natasha. “You must have a wee bit of jet lag, lovey. Rest now. Tea is at four and dinner at seven. If you’d rather sleep than have tea, that’s fine."

  Natasha smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of missing your tea.”

  “Good.” Maggie took Evita out of the kennel and cuddled her to her bosom. “The wee one and I are going to get acquainted now. See you in a bit.” She gave Natasha a jaunty wave and shooed Ranald out before her.

  When they left, Natasha bathed in rose-scented water and washed her hair before donning a soft chenille robe. She lit the candles beside the bed and wallowed in the luxury of the candle-lit glow. Filled with wonder, she gazed at the fireplace. Tonight she'd sleep blissfully in a toasty room and leave her New York worries behind. She reclined on the eiderdown comforter, closed her eyes and gave into the jet lag that overtook her.

  When Natasha awoke, the room smelled of melted wax. She turned on the chandelier above the bed and checked her watch. 3:30 pm. She couldn’t believe she’d slept so long and so deeply. She had just enough time to get dressed and run downstairs for tea.