In the Boss's Castle

by Jessica Gilmore

  ‘You hooked him.’

  ‘I couldn’t believe it,’ she half whispered. ‘I wanted someone from a solid, wealthy background but Bart was beyond my wildest dreams. I worked really hard to turn myself into the right kind of wife for him—made sure I found out about the things he liked, got on with his friends, stuck to the rules. I wasn’t clingy or needy or argumentative or sulky. I dressed the way he liked, wore my hair the way he liked, cooked the right food, hiked or swam or played tennis, whatever he was in the mood for. I read the right books...’ She gulped in air, shocked by the bitter tint to her voice. ‘But in the end I still wasn’t good enough. He walked away anyway. It serves me right for aiming too high.’ Brought down like Icarus, her punishment for flying too close to the sun.

  Kit didn’t answer for a long moment and Maddison couldn’t look at him to see his reaction. Disgust, probably, maybe dislike. Hatred. After all, she was everything he abhorred. Fake, money-grabbing, conniving...

  ‘Maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought.’

  That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Have you been pretending the last few weeks? With me?’

  ‘No, I mean, you’re my boss, not...’

  ‘Not a suitable future husband?’

  She nodded, mortified heat flooding her. ‘I mean, you have a good job and all, and I didn’t know about the castle.’ Maddison winced. Honesty was probably not the best policy here; she wasn’t helping herself sound any better. ‘It wouldn’t have made any difference anyway. I want the life I missed out on, you know, the prom-queen and hayride life, summers at the shore and clambakes, Fourth of July parties and huge family Thanksgivings life. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Much as I could come to love London, that life doesn’t exist here.’

  ‘All I’m saying is that maybe Bart fell in love with the girl I’ve come to know. She’s witty and clever and annoyingly organized, if a bit too partial to long operas. Maybe he wanted that Maddison, not the Stepford wife you turned yourself into. Just a thought.’

  His words sank in slowly, each one dropping perilously close to her heart. ‘I thought you’d hate me.’

  Kit’s face was completely impassive, a muscle beating in his cheek a lone sign her confession affected him at all. ‘We’ve all done things in the past we need to atone for. I’m the last person to judge anyone. But if I were you I’d stop trying so hard. Just be yourself. Do you really think money will bring you happiness?’

  Maddison winced. It sounded so cold put like that. ‘I know security will...’

  ‘Then make your own. You’re a clever woman with a great career ahead of her. I’d advise you to concentrate on that. Marriage to the wealthiest man in the world can’t bring you security, Maddison. Just look at Eleanor. She thought she had it made and it all disappeared, leaving her to start again. Bachelor Number Two may be wealthier but he’s a bitterer pill to swallow.’

  Make her own security? She’d spent so long focusing on just one possible path it hadn’t even occurred to her that there could be more than one way to her goal. Maybe she could buy her own apartment in the city, have her own summer house at the shore. Maybe if she relaxed then she’d meet someone who wanted a family as much as she did, who didn’t need luring into commitment.

  Maybe there was a happy ever after waiting out there for her after all. She stole a glance at Kit, his face still completely unreadable. One thing she knew for sure was that her future didn’t include messy brown hair, blue eyes and a lilting accent. Kit Buchanan’s idea of long-term was next-day dinner reservations. And that was fine. The ache in her chest wasn’t some inexplicable sense of loss. Not at all. She might be considering moving the goalposts but she hadn’t changed as much as that. Had she?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘IS THIS IT? Are we in Kilcanon?’ Maddison craned her head. ‘I can’t see a castle. When you said castle did you mean small cottage because, I have to tell you, they’re not the same thing where I come from.’

  ‘No, this is Loch Lomond. I need to stretch my legs. Fancy a walk?’

  ‘A walk?’

  ‘It’s when people move at a slow pace putting one foot in front of the other in order to get across ground.’

  ‘I know what a walk is. I just... I mean... I wasn’t sure whether you wanted company.’

  ‘I could leave you in the car but that seems a little inhospitable.’

  But he knew what she meant. She was trying to sound him out, to see if he still wanted her company after her revelations just a couple of hours earlier. Maddison had lapsed into silence after her sudden and startling confession, leaving Kit to sort through a myriad conflicting thoughts and feelings: sorrow, sympathy, disgust. Admiration.

  She hadn’t said much about her childhood but he could fill in the bleak gaps; her need to be in control at all times, her fear of the dark, it all made sense. As did her overwhelming desire for security.

  Her targeting of a rich man to be that security was a little harder to stomach, a little too close to home, and his first instinct had been to drive her to the airport at Glasgow and send her back to London on the next plane. The last thing he needed to do was take another gold-digger back to meet the family.

  But she was no Eleanor and he was a lot older and a lot wiser. At least Maddison was honest about who she was and what she wanted. And could he blame her for trying to re-create the mythologized childhood of her dreams?

  No. He didn’t blame her or dislike her or even pity her. Truth be told he kind of admired her. Life had thrown every disadvantage at her and she had risen above it, made something of herself. So she had made some mistakes along the way? It was better than hiding away, bitter and resentful, or being too afraid to try.

  Like you? He pushed the thought away. He wasn’t bitter or afraid, he was undeserving. Undeserving of happiness or of love.

  Maddison, on the other hand, deserved a lifetime of both.

  She joined him at the path, a light Puffa slung on over her jumper and jeans. ‘This is a real loch? Is there a monster in it?’

  ‘Several. Don’t walk too close to the edge or they might pull you in, kelpies and boobries and...’

  ‘Stop. You know what I mean. A real monster.’

  ‘You need to be a lot further north for Nessie, I’m afraid. But if you’re lucky you might see a selkie when we get to Kilcanon—watch the seals closely, they’re usually the larger ones.’

  ‘I’ll do that.’ She hesitated. ‘Kit, about earlier?’

  ‘It’s fine. I’m glad you told me but you don’t owe me any explanation, Maddison. We’re colleagues, that’s all.’ But the words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

  ‘Good. I’ve never... I mean, I don’t talk about myself very often. Thank you. For listening and not hating me.’

  ‘I could never hate you.’ In a different time, if he were a different man, he might be in danger of exactly the opposite. But his heart was frozen somewhere back in time and he had no intention of allowing it to be melted, not even by this fiery American survivor.

  * * *

  It was a bright, warmish day and Maddison was soon far too hot in the thick jacket she had layered over her sweater. ‘You told me it would be cold and raining.’

  ‘It could well be when we get to Kilcanon. It’s a microclimate. All of Scotland is.’

  ‘Is it as pretty as here?’ She stopped and turned, admiring once again the blue waters lapping gently against the loch shore and the hills rising steeply on every side, greens and purples and shadowy greys. She had thought that they would head down to the loch but instead Kit had chosen a path that led away, a steep path winding up into the hills. Turned out even regular running didn’t prepare you for hill-climbing. Maddison could already feel a pull on her calves and her lungs were beginning to make themselves felt.

/>   ‘Pretty? There’s nothing pretty about Kilcanon. It’s magnificent... Here, watch out. This is a bit slippy.’ Kit extended a hand and pulled Maddison up the slick, steep rock. His grip was firm and she had a sudden urge to lean on him, to allow him to guide her up the narrow, slippery path, but she quelled it firmly, brushing past him instead to take the lead.

  ‘Come on, Buchanan,’ she called over her shoulder as she set off at a pace, shocked at how her lungs burnt as she pulled herself up. She had really got out of condition recently; this would do her good. Besides, giving her body a good workout might cure it of some treacherous urges—such as wanting to stare into Kit’s eyes, keep hold of his hands or lean into that solid strength.

  Oh, no, she was getting sappy. Maddison increased her pace, enjoying the ache in her calf muscles, the fiercer pull in her thighs, the heave in her chest. The distance she was putting between him and her.

  ‘It’s not a race, Carter. Slow down and smell the roses—or at least enjoy the view.’

  ‘Slowing down is for losers. You’d be eaten alive in Manhattan,’ she threw back as she concentrated on one foot in front of the other, using her hands and upper body to pull her up a particularly vertiginous twist in the path. All she was aware of was the steep rise of the way ahead, the rocks that needed to be navigated, the small treacherous pebbles that could cause a foot to slip, the slicks of mud and the...

  ‘No! Darn it!’

  And the deceptively deep puddles. This one calf deep and full of thick mud, cold as it sucked at her foot and leg.

  ‘Ugh. I’m trapped in a swamp! Kit! Stop laughing...’

  He came up beside her, slow and easy, folding his arms and eyes dancing with amusement as he took her in. ‘Pride comes before a fall.’

  ‘I haven’t fallen.’ Maddison tried to summon some shred of dignity, hard as it was to do when one foot was caught fast in a miniswamp, the other scrabbling for a firm foothold. Any minute now she was going to tumble and she’d be damned if she was going to fall in front of this man. Any man.

  ‘Yet,’ Kit pointed out helpfully.

  ‘You could help me.’

  ‘I could.’ The laughter underpinned his words and she glared at him.

  ‘Do you want me to beg?’

  ‘Well...’ He leaned in close and her breath hitched. His face was barely centimetres from hers, his shoulder close enough to grab, to hold on to, to bury herself in and let herself be saved.

  She didn’t need saving, did she? Just a helping hand.

  ‘You could say please.’

  Their eyes caught, held. His were alive with laughter, a teasing warmth curving his mouth, but behind the amusement was something hotter, something deeper, something straining to break through. And Maddison knew, with utter certainty, that all she needed to do was ask.

  She hadn’t asked for anything since she was six.

  She glared, watching his amusement increase until a reluctant smile curved her lips. ‘Please.’

  ‘There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?’ Kit grasped her hand and pulled. Maddison steadied herself against him, allowing him to take her weight as she heaved her foot free. It took a couple of tugs until, with a nasty squelch, the mud gave up and she stumbled forward, letting out a small yelp of alarm as she toppled, trying to get her balance.

  ‘Easy, Maddison, I got you.’

  He had. His arms were around her, steadying her, holding her up, and she allowed herself to be held, to be steadied. Just for a second. What harm could it do? What harm one moment of resting on someone else? One moment of needing someone else? Just a moment and then she would pull back, make some quip and carry on, ignoring the discomfort of her cold, damp boot and the sodden jeans because that was what Maddison Carter did, right? She carried on.

  ‘Thanks.’ Her breath was short and she inhaled, taking in the soap-fresh, wool scent of him, allowing her hands to remain on his waist as she pulled back, searching for the right kind of cheery smile that would put this moment behind them, behind her.

  It was a lot to ask from a smile. And as she looked into his eyes any urge to laugh the moment off fell away as surely as the path plunged down towards the water, the sounds around drowned out by the blood rushing around her body, pulsing in her ears. All the amusement had drained out of his face, out of those blue eyes, now impossibly molten like sapphire forged in some great furnace. Instead she looked into the sharp planes of his face and saw want. She saw need. She saw desire.

  For her.

  ‘Kit?’

  He didn’t speak, his breathing ragged, his grip tightening on her shoulders. She should walk away; she needed to walk away because this, this wasn’t planned. She had never let desire override her common sense before, and yet here she stood, making no move to reassert herself, passive in his grip.

  The blood pounded faster, her stomach falling away, an almost unbearable ache pulsing in her breasts, beating insistently deep down in her very core. Maddison had always controlled every step of every seduction, when, how far, what, but now she had no power, no choice at all. Her body was taking over, need flaring up, overtaking sense, overtaking thought, overtaking everything.

  She swayed towards him and his eyes flashed as they fixed on her mouth, hunger burning in their blue depths. Hunger for her.

  For her. All of her.

  Not just her body. She had laid herself bare before him, let him in to see all the nasty little corners she hid from everyone—and still he hungered. Maddison swayed closer still. His gaze was intoxicating and she could drink it in forever, bathe in the heat, helpless before his acceptance.

  Kit released his grip on her shoulders, his hands moving slowly down her arms, each centimetre of her flesh blazing into life where his hands touched before burning with thwarted desire as his hands moved away. She was desperately trying to gulp in air, her chest tight with need.

  Walk away, a small, sane part of her urged. Walk away.

  But she had spent ten years being sane, ten years putting sense first, desire second. Didn’t she deserve just a little time out? She was going to re-evaluate her plan anyway; she needed to explore all options, didn’t she?

  That was all this was. Exploring options. Because Kit didn’t do love either. He was safe.

  Maddison jumped as he reached out to cup her face, one finger tracing the curve of her mouth, a muscle beating insistently in his cheek. It took everything she had to hold his gaze, to stand there while his fingers explored the curve of her jaw, one tantalizing digit running slowly over her mouth, blazing a trail of fiery need. It was hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to stand still, hard not to step forward and grab him and make him fulfil that lazy promise. Her knees weakened as she watched the lines of his mouth, his eyes soften as they focused on her.

  She looked up at him and allowed her mask to slip, just for a while. Allowed the desire and want and hope and need to shine through and as their eyes met she saw any resistance fall away.

  She thought he would pull her close, go straight in for the kiss, but instead Kit moved back a little, one hand moving from her waist to the small of her back, leaving a trail of electric tingles as it oh-so slowly brushed over her body. Before today Maddison would have said that it would be impossible for anyone to feel anything under the thickness of her jacket but, like the princess lying on her tower of mattresses, every movement marked her. Claimed her.

  ‘This crosses a line.’ The words were so unexpected that Maddison didn’t compute them at first. ‘I should step away.’ But he didn’t.

  ‘I think we already crossed that line.’ Confidences, opening up emotionally, secret glances of shared amusement—to Maddison they were all far more intimate than mere sex. She suspected the same rang true for Kit. If there was a line to be crossed then they had walked blithely over it that day in the graveyard. Maybe even before then, when he had invi
ted her out for a birthday drink. Maybe they had been heading here since then.

  He closed his eyes briefly. ‘Maybe you’re right.’ Then, only then did he step closer. Maddison hadn’t appreciated quite how tall he was, how broad he was, how much coiled strength was hidden behind the quietly amused exterior until she was enfolded by him, in him. She had never allowed herself to feel fragile, delicate before, but the look in his eyes, the light, almost reverential touch, made her feel as if she were made of glass, infinitely precious. She shivered, heat and need running through her.

  She slid her hands up his arms, allowing herself the time to appreciate the hard muscle under the thick material, until her hands met at the nape of his neck.

  She stepped in, just that one bit closer so that leg was pressed against leg, her stomach against his taut abdomen, her breasts crushed against his chest. Desire rippled through her as the heat from his body penetrated her; she could barely raise her eyes to look at him, suddenly and unexpectedly shy. She was laying it all out there for him. What if she wasn’t enough?

  But the look in his eyes when she finally raised hers to meet his said it all and, emboldened, she pressed close and lifted her mouth to his. Softly at first, hesitant, and then as the kiss deepened she lost all reticence, holding him tighter, pulling him closer, revelling in the all-male taste of him, smell of him, feel of him. His hands hadn’t moved, still just holding her close, burning where they touched her until she was almost writhing with the need for them to move, to have every inch lit up with that same sweet, intoxicating flame.

  Maddison wound her hands through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him even closer, but it wasn’t enough. The barriers of clothing, of skin too much. Impatient she slid her hands back down his torso, thrilling at the play of muscles under her hands, needing flesh on flesh.

  ‘Maddison.’ He broke away and she was instantly cold, even as he captured her hands in his, his thumbs caressing her palms. ‘Slow down, lass. We shouldn’t...’