Sadie's Highlander

by Maeve Greyson

  Something else he’d said about the crisis in the kitchen gave her an idea to help calm her case of raw nerves to a more manageable level and find something—anything—to talk about. Ask him about the crisis. Get him talking about this family. Concentrate on the other people. “You said Esme might push your father into one of his spells. Is he in poor health?” The elder MacDara had seemed a bit odd and absentminded in the boardroom, but other than that he’d looked fine.

  Alec joined her at the wall of windows.

  Sadie shifted slightly, doing her best to increase the space between them with as much subtlety as possible. It was amazing how much heat and…and…whatever the man put out, wrapping her in a tantalizing cloak of Come closer. You know you want to know me better. The air crackled whenever he was near. Every hair on her arms stood on end. The closer he got, the more she wanted to shiver and snuggle up against him just to see how much that feel-good tingle would grow.

  Alec glanced down at the space of floor between them, then fixed her with a knowing grin. He knew exactly what she was doing—and found it amusing. He clasped his hands to the small of his back, eased sideways to close the space between them, then turned his attention to the view out the windows. “Aye. Esme is creative—too creative for her own good, as well as ours sometimes.” He barely shook his head, his amused expression fading to a tensed, unreadable look. “And Athair’s fine—just a wee bit too old and muddled in the head t’weather many of Esme’s storms.”

  He pulled open one of the doors and gallantly waved a hand toward the charmingly rustic cushioned settee and pair of rocking chairs situated in one corner of the wide redwood deck. “Would ye care to sit outside and visit a bit before we go over our duties for the coming weeks? ’Tis a lovely fall day and I wish t’learn more about the gifted writer of the entertaining emails that gave me so many reasons to smile over the past few weeks.”

  Every self-preservation alarm Sadie possessed blared out loud and clear, warning her to stay on her toes and be ready. If this was a trap, here was where he’d set the bait for whatever was going to happen that would make her wish she’d never come to North Carolina.

  She slid past Alec, the heat of his nearness triggering that same wave of skin-tingling shiver bumps. Sadie avoided his gaze and hurried out onto the deck. The scent of him washed across her. Fresh-scrubbed male. Clean and enticing with just a hint of the wild, as though he’d bathed in the middle of the woods in preparation for the hunt.

  Sadie held her breath to stave off the urge to back up, lean in close, and take another long, appreciative sniff of the broad chest that had just been mere inches from her nose. She clenched her fists so tightly all her knuckles popped. Glancing at the cozy gathering of seats in the corner, she barely paused before veering toward the other side of the deck. Don’t think so. No way can I sit still.

  She took refuge next to the wood railing hemming in the porch. Perfect spot. She could stand here, enjoy the view, and act like she had everything under control. She could do this. She wasn’t all that experienced when it came to men, but she was no fool. I’ve got this.

  Sadie rested her forearms atop the wide plank and leaned to peer down into the woods below. “It’s beautiful here. You are a very lucky man, Mr. MacDara.”

  The wood of the railing creaked as Alec leaned on it next to her. “I prefer ye call me Alec—aye?” He took a slow look around the area, then nodded toward the blazing reds, oranges, and yellows of the autumnal wood. Here and there the vibrant colors were interrupted with the rich green of lush pines pushing their way toward the sun. “And yes—I’ve been blessed with many opportunities and the good health to work hard enough to make them a success.”

  Hmm…did I word that wrong? Sound as though I thought him entitled? Sadie inched sideways, surreptitiously putting a little more space between them. “I didn’t mean to sound as though I thought you hadn’t earned”—she waved a hand toward the wood—“all this. The park. The lodge…I mean the keep.” Great. And now the babbling begins. Just stop. “Sorry. I don’t always word things right—at least not when I’m talking out loud.” That sounded awesome. Maybe I should tell him when I’m writing, I’m great. I edit out the stupid—talking, not so much.

  Alec’s gaze dropped to his arms propped atop the railing, then he subtly shifted sideways, closing the distance she’d just placed between them. Without looking at her, he nudged his shoulder against hers. “Rest easy, lass,” he whispered. His voice vibrated with a deep, soothing tone she’d replay in her dreams. He sidled a glance at her and grinned. “Ye’ve nothing to fear from me. I swear it.”

  Maybe if she grabbed this Scottish bull by the horns and got all her misconceptions out in the open, she’d feel better. She hadn’t had this bad a case of uneasiness in years and she didn’t like it a damn bit. She faced Alec, keeping one hand planted on the wood railing. “If I have nothing to fear from you—no worries about ulterior motives or…” she struggled to pick the right words “…or whatever.” She released her choke hold on the railing and flipped one hand in the air. “Then tell my why—straight out and in plain terms: why am I here?” She pointed at him, taking great pride in the fact that she’d managed to keep her hand from trembling. Confidence bolstered, she jabbed her finger in the air. “Why am I here with you for the next six weeks?”

  Alec straightened from his relaxed lean against the wood railing, his gaze focused on the colorful tapestry of the acreage of trees surrounding the keep. His smile was gone, replaced by an unexplainable look. He seemed lost in a daydream—a daydream that had him puzzled.

  “Thirty-one emails,” he finally said with a decisive dip of his chin.

  “What?”

  He turned and faced her, dead serious, with a look in his eyes that made her forget to breathe. “Thirty…one…emails,” he repeated, enunciating each word slowly and clearly to prevent the slightest hint of misunderstanding.

  Sadie traced her fingers along the rough grain of the wood plank, willing the board to give up all its secrets about Alec MacDara. The disturbingly handsome man was so damned unreadable. “What do you mean by thirty-one emails?” she finally asked, while staring down at the rough-grained board and tracing the pattern with her fingernail.

  “Ye asked why ye were here.” Alec leisurely turned around and leaned back against the railing. Fingers laced together, he folded his hands across his middle and propped his elbows on the sturdy banister behind him. “ ’Tis because of yer emails. Yer way with words.” His voice dropped lower, took on a quiet sultry tone—and sounded almost…lonely. He looked at her—not just a glance, but something more. His gaze heated, growing more personal and soul-piercing by the second. “Each email ye sent drew me in—touched me in ways I canna explain. I heard yer laughter in each line. Felt yer joy. I glimpsed yer heart in those words. Saw their purity. Learned yer truths.”

  He reached out and smoothed a curl of hair away from her cheek and tucked it back behind her ear. The unexpected gentleness of the touch stole her breath and made her heart double-thump with a giddy rhythm.

  “The more I read, the more I realized I needed time with the writer of those messages. I needed time with you,” he finished, his expression almost…hopeful.

  “They were just emails,” Sadie whispered, mesmerized by the softness of his touch and the turbulent storm of emotions she saw in his eyes. A hungry loneliness was reflected in their depths and Alec no longer attempted to hide it.

  She’d written the first missive in standard marketing snag their attention style. But then after a spark of intuitiveness—or maybe what some might call divine guidance—she’d been inspired to write the rest of the emails as though she were clueing in a long-lost friend on all the silliness of the fool’s-gold glitter of Hollywood. The more she wrote, the more she envisioned the reader as a cherished pen pal she hoped to meet someday.

  Delia would have fired her on the spot if she’d read any of those emails. Of course, Sadie had also figured the reader of the emails was some
grossly underpaid assistant working in small-town North Carolina—maybe even a woman her own age—lonely and looking for a friend. Sadie tried not to flounder even deeper into the mire of need reflected in Alec’s gaze. She had so figured this all wrong. Who would’ve thought Alec MacDara would have read those emails himself? All thirty-one of them.

  “J-just emails,” she hesitantly stammered. Her alarm bells clanged even louder, and a sense of imminent danger surged through her like the burn of good whisky. “I thought I was sending them to…y-your assistant. You know…a counterpart. Somebody on my level. They weren’t addressed to the CEO. I wouldn’t have used such silly words to the…b-boss of the company.” The way Alec’s tempting mouth quirked to one side as his full lips barely parted made it difficult to speak intelligently, and even more impossible to think.

  “They were no’ just silly words.” Alec leaned in close, barely frowning as he slid his fingers from behind her ear and cautiously cradled her cheek in his large, callused hand. “Ye ken that I mean ye no harm, Sadie Williams,” he said, ever so slowly drawing her in. “Ye ken that for certain…aye?”

  Ken? She had a pretty good idea what ken meant but damn sure didn’t trust herself to answer. At the moment, standing upright with a minimal level of composure instead of either tossing caution to the wind and climbing aboard this delectable Scottish mountain of a man or turning and running like hell in the other direction was all she could manage. She wet her lips and focused all her senses on the totally kissable mouth hovering so close she could almost feel the velvety heat of their pending touch. Yeah. I’m so not running.

  “Ye dinna answer,” he whispered, shifting ever so slightly and brushing a hand down her arm from shoulder to elbow with an awkward, hesitant stroke. “I do mean ta win yer trust,” he finally said. Then he fell silent, his mouth still excruciatingly close to hers. All she needed to do was lean in—just lean in a little closer. No. He needs to do it. She felt the warm, soft brush of his breath against her skin. Sadie held her breath. She waited and hoped like hell that Alec MacDara would finish what he had so artfully started. He needed to be the one to kiss her. Not the other way around.

  Alec’s hand that had been hesitantly brushing up and down her arm paused just above her elbow and squeezed, holding tight as though he suddenly feared she was about to turn and run. Running had left the list of options at least a dozen heartbeats ago. She wasn’t running anywhere. She wasn’t about to leave until she figured out what the devil was going on. And she also wasn’t about to miss what promised to be the best kiss of her life.

  Just one kiss. No harm in a little kiss. Sadie risked sliding a hand to the center of Alec’s firm chest, tracing her way up the ridge of buttons tight between his pecs, until she brushed her fingertips along the heat of his bare throat. His pulse was pounding out a rhythm just as thunderously scattered as hers. Damn. He’s as scared shitless as I am.

  Alec squeezed her arm again while lacing the fingers of his other hand into her hair and tilting her head back.

  Good. He’s finally going to kiss me. What could one little kiss hurt?

  Something suddenly flickered in Alec’s eyes and he stiffened beneath her touch. His hands dropped away and he took a step back, politely ducking his head and pointedly doing all he could to avoid making eye contact. “I’ll leave ye now to unpack yer things.”

  He coughed, covering his mouth with his fist as his voice rasped with a deep huskiness—the huskiness of a man fighting for control. “I’m certain ye wish t’get settled afore ye start yer duties.”

  Duties. Yeah. Right. Sadie didn’t say a word, just folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the deck railing.

  Alec cleared his throat again, then stole a quick glance up at the sun. Flexing his hands into fists, then slowly relaxing them, he jerked his chin down with a decisive nod. “Aye, ye’ll get yerself settled and we’ll have the noonday meal with the rest of the family. I’ll send Ross or Ramsay t’fetch ye, then I’ll give ye a tour of the park and we can get better acquainted so ye can feel comfortable teachin’ me all ye ken about this filming business yer sister has planned for Highland Life and Legends.”

  Still refusing to look her in the eye, Alec politely nodded in Sadie’s direction, then was gone before she could reply. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the man was doing his best not to break into a run. Tapping a finger against her disappointed lips, Sadie couldn’t help but smile. Maybe she wasn’t the only one on treacherous ground here.

  Chapter 6

  “I am a damn fool.” Alec cradled his head between his hands, elbows propped on either side of the empty plate in front of him. He hadn’t meant to attempt a kiss—or get so close to actually stealing a taste of Sadie’s sweet mouth. He’d sworn he was going to take care. Put her at ease. Be cautious. Convince the woman that he meant her no harm or disrespect.

  But then she’d been so damn tempting. So fragile and sweet—looking up at him with those dark eyes that reminded him of the finest amber whisky swirling in the torchlight. He’d almost sampled those ruby lips. Almost given in to temptation. His fingernails dug into his scalp and he closed his eyes tight against the memory. He’d resisted. Barely. Surely, he’d avoided what would most certainly have been a disaster. Thank the gods and all the demons of hell that he’d stopped himself in time.

  “Ye tried t’kiss her,” Dwyn repeated as he peered over the sagging pages of the daily gossip paper he held in midair in front of him. The demigod was all-knowing, but it never ceased to amuse him to keep up with the tall tales and bold lies the paparazzi told about unsuspecting celebrities. “After all yer talk about takin’ care and no’ scarin’ her away, ye nearly kissed the woman before she’d even been here a full hour. She hadna even had time t’unpack her wee bags.” Dwyn snapped the paper taut, then raised it back up, his voice booming loud and clear from behind it. “Aye. I believe ye’ve called it right on the money this time, Alec Danann MacDara. Ye are a damn fool.”

  Miss Lydia thumped him in the center of his back as she toddled past him. “Elbows off the table and man up because I hear her comin’ up the steps. You fouled out in your own game—now fix it and stop your whining.”

  Meddlin’ old woman. Alec obediently straightened in his chair, sucked in a deep breath, and made a silent oath. I will win her trust. One poorly handled battle willna lose this war. I will win this.

  Light footsteps pattered up the stairs behind him. Alec rose from his chair and moved to stand behind the empty place setting to his right. “All settled into yer rooms, are ye?” Damned if he didna sound like one of those overstuffed hotel maître d’s that he and Dwyn had encountered in New York City when Dwyn had dragged his arse to that confusing place of light, noise, and entirely too damn many people.

  Sadie beamed up at him with what appeared to be a genuinely relaxed smile. “All settled in, and thank you again. My suite of rooms is awesome.” She wrinkled her nose, lifting it with an appreciative sniff. “I really hope that’s lunch, because it smells delicious and I’m starving.”

  Good. Perhaps I didna fare so badly in the first skirmish. She seems no worse for my actions. Alec gallantly pulled out her chair. “Mistress Lydia is the finest cook in all of North Carolina. If ye leave her table feelin’ deprived, the fault will be yer own.”

  Sadie took her seat and Alec helped her scoot closer to the table.

  “Thank you,” she said softly as she took the cloth napkin from beside her plate and spread it across her lap.

  The smile she gave him warmed his heart, making him wish they were the only two people in the room; then he could make up for his earlier mistakes without any help from Dwyn or Mistress Lydia.

  “I’m not used to such gallantry. I’m afraid chivalry is dead in Los Angeles,” Sadie said as she added a slice of lemon and a sprig of mint to the tall glass of iced tea Miss Lydia placed beside her plate.

  “Aye, well—’tis alive and well here in Brady, North Carolina.” Alec propped his elbows back on
the table, folding his hands above his plate.

  Miss Lydia turned from the stove and gave him a pointed glare. She cleared her throat with a loud, growling ahem before turning back to her bubbling pots and pans.

  Removing his elbows from the table, Alec shifted in his seat. Dammit, old woman. Stop treatin’ me like an ill-mannered lad rather than the acting chieftain that I am. He didn’t say the words aloud, just straightened, sitting taller in his chair, and returned Miss Lydia’s glare.

  “Will Esme be joining us for lunch today or is the wee beastie still on a rampage?” Alec truly hoped the answer was “yes”. Sullen or not, if his sister was present, at least the interfering old woman would have a target to nettle other than himself.

  “Esme is dining in her room, where she’s also likely to spend the rest of her life if her mother and I can’t talk some sense into that hard head of hers.” Miss Lydia plopped a heavy ceramic soup tureen down on the table and handed Alec the ladle. “Serve your lady and yourself while I finish dishing up the barbecued brisket and the bread.”

  My lady. Quite the ring to those words. Alec stole a discreet look at Sadie, relieved that she didna seem bothered a bit by Miss Lydia’s verbiage. “D’ye fancy chicken and dumplings then? Mistress Lydia lets nothing go t’waste. Last night’s leavings of the roasted chickens are today’s tempting stew.”

  Sadie leaned forward, holding out her bowl. “Waste not, want not, and what better way than with chicken and dumplings? I adore them.” Her eyes grew ever wider as Alec kept ladling, filling her bowl to the rim with a Highlander-sized portion. “Uhm…wow—that’s a lot.”

  “Are ye no’ hungry then?” Alec frowned down at her full bowl. She’d just said she loved chicken and dumplings. He wanted to be certain to give her plenty. By the gods, surely she’s no’ like Esme and tryin’ to thin herself down to a bare twig that the wind would snap with the slightest breeze. “Yer no’ dietin’ to fit into some dress, are ye?”