A Novel Seduction

by Gwyn Cready

  “Dr. Albrecht kicked me out. Said she needed to clean. Sent me and my dry-cleaning bag down here.”

  “Ah.” The mad German matchmaker at work. “Well, if you don’t mind making sure there’s toilet paper and clean towels when you leave, I’ll just head to—”

  “Wait. I want to talk.”

  He dug a heather-blue sweater out of his duffel and jerked it over his head. Why is it men always dress like it’ll be the last time that item of clothing will ever be usable?

  She gave him a look. “I believe I heard everything I needed to upstairs. Sucky article, no principles. Got it.”

  “‘Sucky’? I don’t remember seeing that in The New York Times Style Guide.”

  “Funny. Was there something more you needed to add?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  “Oh, great. Are my teeth stained? Does my outfit bother you?”

  He made a point of running his eyes over the skirt and sweater.

  “Actually, your outfit is pretty nice.”

  She harrumphed. Flattery was going to get him nowhere. However, if he flashed that calf one more time…

  It was getting harder to fit anger and attraction into her jet-lagged brain.

  “If you have an apology, I’ll listen,” she said. “Otherwise, you can just—”

  “I don’t have an apology,” he said then added, abashed, “I have a regret. The article is shit, Ellery. You know it and I know it. But I should have been nicer about it.”

  “Gee, and you still wonder why we broke up.”

  He bent to zip his duffel bag. Then he gave her a troubled look, and the temperature in the room changed in a way Ellery could not directly identify.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said. “It’s important. Let’s take a walk.”

  She uncrossed her arm and gestured to him to proceed.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  He was unnaturally silent as they picked their way through trees framed by the pink evening sky, and her pique had been replaced by worry. The leaves crunched underfoot, and even in the unnatural warmth Ellery could smell the iron tang of oncoming winter. Behind them, the sounds of guitar, tin whistle and bodhrán rose on the wind as the band tuned and practiced in the barn. Ahead of them the rise of Cairnpapple shone in the fading light.

  Axel paused to help her over a gnarled root. “It’s about Jill,” he said without preamble.

  A spike of fear shot up Ellery’s back.

  “She’s okay—well, she will be.” He sighed. “She’s pregnant, Ellery. She’s scared.”

  So many questions flew through Ellery’s head, she didn’t know where to start. She finally decided on, “Who’s the father?”

  “I don’t know. She hasn’t told me and I didn’t ask.”

  Told him. Ellery felt a kick that made her stomach contract with its ferocity.

  “She told you?”

  “Ellery”—he put his hand on her arm—“the important thing is helping Jill.”

  She pulled away. “I know what the important thing is.”

  “I know you do. That’s why I told you. I am incapable of providing that kind of help.”

  “I sure know that.”

  He flinched, and she knew the remark had hit home.

  “I’m trying to do the right thing,” he said.

  Yes. Yes, he was. He had told her. She was grateful for that. She turned, unwilling to let him see her pain and swiped a palm under her eye.

  “When?” she asked.

  “I dunno. A month or so ago, I guess. She’s not very far along. She just found out.”

  “When did she call?”

  “An hour ago.”

  “I need to talk to her.” She started back toward the house.

  “Ellery, wait. She asked me not to tell you.”

  Ellery froze. It was bad enough to not be told first. But to be kept purposefully in the dark?

  “Why would she tell you?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her in years. But I know why she doesn’t want to tell you.”

  “Why?”

  “She said because you never make mistakes and you wouldn’t understand.”

  The coup de grâce. Ellery had worked so hard trying to make life perfect for her sister, she’d forgotten to show her that there were ways to work through hard times. Ellery’s shoulders heaved, and the next thing she knew, Axel had his arms around her.

  “That’s not true, you know,” she said, crying. “I make mistakes.”

  “I’d say ‘Don’t I know it,’ but I’m afraid you wouldn’t laugh.”

  She did laugh, and then cried more. She thought of her own fear when she’d found herself in the same unexpected spot. “I have to call her, Axel.”

  “I know, and that’s why I told you. She’s going to be royally pissed, but I can live with that.”

  “What’s she going to do?”

  “That I don’t know. She has an appointment at the college clinic on Monday.”

  Her breath caught. “An appointment for what?”

  “I don’t know. Advice.”

  She pulled away. “I need to call. I have to tell her—” She stopped. “I have to talk to her.”

  Axel hugged his arms around him as though a cool breeze had blown through. “Ellery, what happened to us? At the end. What happened?”

  “Oh, Axel, do we have to do this now?”

  “Please. Just tell me. I’ve waited all these years. Please, tell me.”

  She shook her head. “It was so long ago.”

  “I know you were pregnant.”

  The words hung in the air like mists from an ancient river. “How…?”

  His eyes creased for an instant, as if reliving a long-ago blow. “Your doctor’s office called. The day I was packing. To say…” He searched for the right words. “To say it was done. I assume that was part of why you ended things. I know it wasn’t the only reason.”

  “Oh, Axel.” A heated shame came over her. Five years was a long time to wonder about such a thing, and so many things had changed. “I should have told you.” She thought of lying there alone on the hospital gurney. “It made me so sad. I was so afraid.”

  He reached out but his hand seemed to stop midway. “Was it mine?” he asked softly, and the true horror of his situation hit her.

  “Oh, God, Axel! I’m so sorry. Yes, it was yours. I’m capable of a lot of horrible things, but I would never have done that to you.”

  He was reeling from the news. She could see it on his pale cheeks and in the whiteness of his knuckles.

  “And the baby,” he said. “You…?”

  “I lost it, Axel,” she said. “A night you were gone. They had to—”

  “I understand.”

  He sat down on the tree they’d climbed over and put his head in his hands. She’d failed Jill and she’d failed him. That was a lot of failing in one lifetime.

  She took a step toward him but was afraid to get closer. “I planned to tell you about it… about the pregnancy.”

  “Did you?” He didn’t look up. She could see the rise and fall of his chest.

  “I was so happy. I was, Axel. Despite our differences. At first I wasn’t sure—I mean, about actually being pregnant. I thought I was, and I found to my surprise the thought made me pretty happy. I wanted you to be there when I took the test, but we were out someplace and I wasn’t feeling very well, and I should have told you, but all I wanted to do was go home—”

  “It was the night at Mullen’s, when Brendan was playing.” He gazed at her expectantly, awaiting her confirmation that his guess was right.

  “Yes, it was.”

  “And I didn’t want to leave.”

  “Nope.”

  “And I drove you home and came back.”

  She nodded. “And then I tested myself and I knew.” She looked at him, feeling the sadness of it all. “And then I was mad at you and didn’t want to tell you. Oh, God, it seems like such a long time ago and such a stupid thing to be mad ab
out. And once I’d stopped being mad, I wanted to wait. Until I was further along and it was safe.”

  “Safe.” He gave half a chuckle as if nothing between them had ever been safe.

  “And then… later… I began to lose the baby…”

  “And I was gone again. How did you know—I mean, that something was wrong?” His eyes were as clear as green lochs.

  “Terrible cramps. Just terrible. Like a knife in my gut.”

  “Oh, God. Did Jill know?”

  It was Ellery’s turn for a regretful half laugh. “No, of course not. If she did, maybe I’m the one she would have called today.”

  He crossed his arms, staring into the empty fields beside them. The slow, plaintive notes of “Auld Lang Syne” drifted through the trees.

  Ellery glanced back. “Oh, dear, it sounds like they’re starting the party.”

  “I hope,” he said, giving her a weak smile, “they don’t start the party with that.”

  She laughed.

  “I don’t understand,” he said, regret tinged with awe. “How did you do it? You were all by yourself.”

  Ellery felt the tears begin to well again. “It was awful. I was so scared.”

  In an instant Axel was on his feet, holding her tight as she wept. She could feel the rough finish of the sweater’s wool and the warmth of his shoulder beneath. He patted her until she stilled.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t a very good boyfriend.”

  She looked up at him, the light of the sunset catching the red in his hair, and went to pat his cheek but found herself kissing him instead. He held her with the tips of his fingers, as if she were porcelain that might break.

  A phone buzzed and she broke away, forgetting for a second she had left hers in her room.

  Axel pulled his out of his sporran. “It’s Black. Christ almighty.” He rolled his eyes and sent the call into oblivion.

  “I should call Jill.”

  “Yes. Go, go. I’ll walk you back.”

  “No, there’s no point. She won’t take my call. I tried before I found you. I got no answer. Then I got a text: SORRY I MISSED YOUR CALL. I’M BEAT. WHY DON’T WE CATCH UP WHEN YOU’RE BACK FROM YOUR TRIP. She’s blowing me off.”

  Axel held up his phone. “She’ll answer me.” He pressed the screen a couple times, then lifted the phone to his ear. After a second or two he nodded. She’d answered.

  “Jill, hi. Listen, I was thinking more about what you told me.”

  Ellery heard a short, indistinct reply.

  “You know the best person to help you with this is your sister.” Axel rubbed the spot between his brows. Jill’s reply was more agitated.

  “Jill, you called me because you needed help, and I have to do what I think is right.” He took a deep breath. “I told Ellery.”

  The agitation turned to fury. Ellery could recognize the sound even if the words themselves were indiscernible.

  “Yes, I know a friend wouldn’t have done this. But I’m not your friend. I’m a grown-up and I have to help. I’m sorry. Here’s your sister. She knows everything.”

  He handed Ellery the phone, and Ellery patted him on the back. He had done well. He took her hand and kissed it. Then, with a brief wave, he started back toward the house.

  Ellery took a deep breath. “Jill,” she said into the cool silence, “I’m so sorry. I’ve been through this myself. I never told you, but back when Axel and I were together, I was pregnant once too. Tell me what happened.”

  Without missing a step, Axel turned, gave her an approving smile, and continued on his way.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Axel filled the goblet with a nice Spanish Rioja, then grabbed a pint glass, tilted the tap and let the straw-colored Belhaven run down the side, ensuring an adequate but not overly pretentious amount of foam. It had been a long time since he’d been on this side of a bar—he’d practically put himself through college working at the Maple Leaf Tap in Toronto—and it brought back a lot of fond memories.

  “What do I owe you?” asked the woman who had ordered the drinks, pulling a handful of bills out of the pocket of her sleek leather blazer. Her cheeks were flushed and he suspected the whiskey-tasting earlier this afternoon had been more than just a taste for her.

  “Open bar,” he said. “They just announced your company’s picking up everything.”

  “I can think of one thing I’d like them to pick up,” she said, and leered at the hem of his kilt.

  “Ah, ah, ah.” He waved a forbidding finger at her, and she gave him a big smile.

  Someone had set up a tip jar, and the woman pushed a bill toward it. “There’s ten pounds in it for you if you tell me what’s worn underneath.”

  A white-haired gentleman sitting at the far end of the bar snorted, and Axel sighed, dropping the dirty pint glasses in the suds. “Nothing’s worn, I assure you. It’s all in perfect working order.”

  The joke was as old as Cairnpapple—he’d heard his father say it dozens of times—but she burst into giggles and slipped the bill into the jar. “Linda!” she called, grabbing the Rioja and Belhaven. “You have to hear what the guy at the bar said.”

  Axel shook his head. “Jesus, that’s the fourth woman who’s made a comment about the kilt. One of them tried to grab it. I feel like I should be getting combat pay here.”

  The man chuckled. “There’s something about a kilt, lad. It unleashes a woman’s inner…” He groped for the right word.

  “Beast?”

  “Man, I’m afraid. It’s the only time they get to turn the tables on us. The sly looks. The innuendo. It’s rather scary to be on the receiving end, don’t you think?”

  Dr. Albrecht walked up to the bar, gave the older gentleman a close scan from head to toe, then with a point at the bottle of Rioja said pleasantly, “Vhy, Reggie, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a pair of knees quite so pink before.”

  Axel peered over the bar. Reggie was wearing a kilt as well, a light-blue one. He gave Axel an I-told-you-so look and pulled the hem a little lower.

  Axel poured the last of the bottle and pushed the glass toward Dr. Albrecht.

  “Vhere’s Ellery?” she asked.

  “I doubt she’ll be coming.”

  The sociologist searched his face so hard, he felt compelled to add, “It’s not me, I swear. She’s on a call. It’s pretty important.” Sheesh. It was like having his mother here. Next she’d be checking to see if his nails were clean. He gave them a discreet look. Not bad.

  “I’m glad you mentioned her, though,” he added. “She’s going to need a flight back to the States as soon as possible, which I guess means a flight to London from here.”

  “Tonight?”

  He thought of the worry in Jill’s voice. “Yes, if it’s possible.”

  “Let me run back to the house to check the schedules. There may be time to make the last flight. Vhat about you? Vill you be going vith her?”

  He’d be about as handy as mud flaps on a speedboat in that tête-à-tête. “No. I’ll finish out here and catch the train as planned.”

  “And then vhat?” The sociologist narrowed her eyes.

  Axel knew she wasn’t asking about his London hotel plans.

  “I don’t know. Hard to say.” He had no idea what if anything the kiss had meant, though he had passed on both the food and the Belhaven in order to keep the fresh melon taste of Ellery in his mouth.

  Dr. Albrecht made one of those noises his father used to make when Axel said his homework was mostly done, and she scurried off. As he washed the glasses, the band began a rousing version of “Scotland the Brave.” He wouldn’t have guessed a tin whistle could take the part of the bagpipes in that song, but the little instrument was doing a yeoman’s duty. A number of the guests were dancing, and still more were drinking, talking or eating. The barn was a perfect spot for a party. He could see why Dr. Albrecht did a good business in céilidhs.

  “So, are you one of the hired hands here too?” he asked Reggie. “Though perhaps I sho
uld say ‘hired legs.’ ”

  Reggie chuckled. “Oh, no. I own the distillery next door. I’ve known Gerty for years. Archie and I curled together.”

  “A curler, eh? I’ve done a bit a curling myself. More of a hockey man, though. You don’t look like a curler. You look more like a rugger. The shoulders, I think. You’re not a Scot, though.”

  “No, just a Northumberland bloke who loves whiskey. By the way, I couldn’t help but notice you’re not a Scot, either.”

  Axel felt his ears pinken. “Sorry,” he said, dropping the borrowed accent. “Part of the conditions of employment. I feel like I’m a spy or something. Probably not required for you, though.”

  “No, the kilt’s more than enough.”

  Axel laughed.

  “It’s quite good, though,” Reggie said, “your accent, I mean.”

  “My father was from Fife but moved to Canada as a child. That’s where I’m from.”

  “Ah, the great kingdom of Fife. Have you been?”

  “Never.”

  “You should go. I recommend Kirkcaldy. A lovely town. And if you go, I suggest Fyfe Fyre, a great bitter from Fyfe Brewing.”

  Axel straightened. “You a beer drinker?”

  “A man needs something to wash his whiskey down, aye?”

  Axel grinned. “I’ll drink to that.” He picked up his club soda and clinked Reggie’s glass, but he didn’t drink.

  “Not thirsty?”

  “Something like that. Say, I almost bought a micro-brewery this week.”

  Reggie raised a brow. “Oh?”

  “Couldn’t come up with enough money.”

  “You know anything about brewing?”

  “Yes. A lot. Enough to know it’s what I want to do.”

  Three more women approached the bar, and Axel poured a chardonnay, a Coke and another Belhaven, enduring only a single giggled comment about his theoretical lack of underclothes in the process. He was amused to discover, however, that bending for the clean glasses consistently doubled his tip. Perhaps he would end up with a brewery after all.