“Where’s the Jeep?” he asked, his tone mildly conversational.
“Where do you think?” She clapped her hand over her mouth. Ian was right. She was cranky. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “It’s still up behind the house. I couldn’t get it started. Why are you sitting here?”
He stood and brushed off his pants. “When you didn’t pass me, I started to wonder what had happened to you.”
“I’m fine. We might have to walk back to Portree, though. The Jeep is deader than dead.”
“Let me take a look at it.”
Less than an hour ago, Bella had been in Ian’s arms waiting for a kiss that never came. Now they trudged back up the hill in silence, together, but apart. Not exactly the most romantic evening Bella had ever spent with a man, but not the worst, either. She and Ian were the proverbial oil and water. In spite of that fact, or perhaps because of it, she found him stimulating in more ways than one.
The lane was steep. Bella tried to keep her huffing and puffing to a minimum, so Ian wouldn’t judge. She wasn’t a slug; she exercised. Sometimes. Her companion, on the other hand, strode along as if enjoying a walk in the park. It was demoralizing and inexplicable. For a brainiac who spent his days focused on cerebral matters, the man was a remarkable physical specimen.
Disaster lurked in the darkness. Bella didn’t see one of the small potholes and went down hard on her left foot. Her ankle twisted awkwardly and pain shot up her leg as she collapsed in an ungainly heap.
When she yelped, Ian stopped immediately and crouched beside her. “Don’t move,” he said. “Ye don’t want to make it worse.”
“Thank you, Doctor Larrimore.” The sarcasm was instinctive, although in hindsight, she realized he probably did have a doctorate, rendering the insult somewhat moot.
He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Finley talks about you like you’re an angel. The man must be blinded by fraternal devotion. Ye’ve a mouth like a heider.”
“A heider?” Sometimes with his accent she wasn’t sure she understood the words.
“Aye. A heider…a crazy person. I never know what ye’ll come up with next.”
“Can you quit haranguing me long enough to look at my ankle, please?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he gently lifted her leg out of the hole and rested her ankle in his hand. “I left my phone in the Jeep. Can ye shine the light from yours?”
Bella fumbled in her pocket, trying to keep movement to a minimum. The pain made her nauseated. When she managed to engage the flashlight app, she groaned. Ian probed gently, but even his light touch was agonizing. Her foot had swollen visibly already.
He removed her sock and shoe. “We’ve got to get you back,” he said calmly. “We’ll need ice and painkillers.”
“It’s not that bad,” Bella protested.
He lifted her chin with a finger, forcing her to look at him. “Out of curiosity, if I were to say the sky is blue, would you disagree?”
“Is that supposed to be funny?”
“Not at all. I’m merely trying to gauge the depth of your commitment to contrarianism.”
“That’s not a real thing.”
He helped her to her feet, supporting her with one hand. “Of course it is. I’m going to turn around now. Do you think you can get up on my back? Put your arms around my neck and balance on one foot.”
“I’m not a child. I can figure this out.”
When she stumbled and bumped her injured foot, she uttered an unladylike but very appropriate word. Ian was silent, but his shoulders shook, so she was pretty sure he was laughing at her. Beast.
Riding piggyback on a man was a very intimate thing to do. It was also mortifying. “I’m too heavy,” she said when she finally heaved herself onto him.
Ian reached behind and put his hands under her thighs. “Don’t be ridiculous. Ye’re little more than a sprite.”
Nevertheless, he grunted when he hefted her bottom a few inches higher and set off up the track. “I could probably walk,” she said. “If you put me down.”
Her Sherpa kept a steady pace. “I’ve run two marathons this year,” he said. “I think I can manage you.”
“Aren’t you a little big for a serious runner?”
His chuckle sounded strained. “All the men in my father’s family are tall and broad. It’s genetics, ye know. My ancestors carried boulders from place to place. Sturdy stock.”
When they at last reached the Jeep, Ian set her down gently. She leaned against the vehicle, balancing on one foot. He opened the door and helped her into the backseat so she could stretch out.
“Do you need me to hold things?” she asked suddenly, uncomfortable with her role as maiden in distress.
Leaning in, he captured her chin, found her mouth, and kissed her lazily. Oh, wow. The man knew a thing or two about kissing. When he was done, they were both breathless. He backed out of the Jeep and straightened. “I’ll no’ be needing you to hold anything, lass. At least not now. Quit distracting me, so I can get us back on the road.”
After that he raised the hood and she lost sight of him. Amidst the banging and male muttering, she zoned out for a moment. With her fingers on her lips, she tried to recall the breathless seconds when Ian staked a claim. The recollection made her dizzy. Although to be honest, that might be because her ankle hurt like all the devils of hell were stomping on it.
“Ian,” she called out. “Do you know what’s wrong?”
He appeared at her side, holding something in his hand. “I think ‘twas probably the heavy rain. The alternator cap is loose. Damp inside. We’ll need to leave it open for a bit to dry things out. Then I’ll try the engine again.”
“Okay.” She shivered. How long would they have to stay in the depressing, chilly dark?
Ian put the cap on the floorboard at her feet and shrugged out of his shirt. “Here. Sit up so I can put this on you. I don’t want to risk you going into shock.”
“I’m fine,” she protested automatically, but she had to admit the delicious lingering warmth from his body heat was wonderfully comforting. Ian had been wearing a thin, long sleeve striped shirt unbuttoned over a thicker traditional tee. Now he had only the tee. “Won’t you be cold now?” she asked.
He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “If I get too cold, I’ll just ask for another kiss.”
“You didn’t ask for the first one,” she called out indignantly as he walked away again.
His only response was laughter.
Fortunately, Ian’s knowledge of the internal combustion engine proved sufficient to get the Jeep going again. When the motor turned over and purred normally, Bella sighed. “Thank goodness.”
Ian sat in the driver’s seat. He flipped on the overhead light and turned to look at her. “Shall I drive?” he asked, his expression deadpan.
He was baiting her, pure and simple. Unwilling to be bested in a war of words, she pursed her lips and furrowed her brow to let him know she was thinking deeply. “Well, it is my left foot that’s damaged, so I should be able to get us back in one piece.”
Her statement was patently absurd. Ian gaped, incredulity in his gaze. “Are you serious?”
“Of course not, you big egghead.” She punched his shoulder. “Let’s go home. I’m inclined to let you pamper me for at least twenty-four hours.”
Ian turned back to the wheel and put the Jeep in gear. “God help us all,” he muttered.
Chapter Six
Ian knew he was wading into deep waters. One kiss and his IQ had dropped at least forty points. Fortunately, the effect was temporary. As long as he kept his distance, he probably wouldn’t do something stupid.
There were any number of valid reasons not to get involved with Bella Craig. First of all, she was Finley’s sister. Brothers tended to take those kinds of relationships very seriously. For Ian to even think about being intimate with the lovely Bella would be enough to give his friend a coronary.
Secondly, Ian sucked at relationships. He loved
sex. And he’d had no complaints from the few women he’d dabbled with since earning his final degree and striking out on his own. When it came to daily interaction, though, that’s where things fell apart.
Ian tended to have laser focus when he was working. More than one woman had told him she didn’t appreciate being ignored for long stretches of time. Bella would be harder to ignore than most, but it could happen. Then her feelings would be hurt. She would call him a jerk and a loser, and it would be over.
Oddly enough, he enjoyed sparring with her almost as much as he might revel in sharing her bed. Almost, but not quite. Still, the prospect of terminating this budding friendship sobered him. Maybe given the circumstances, he should enjoy her company and keep a lid on his baser instincts.
Bella was vulnerable. Strong and capable, but vulnerable. Men had undervalued her time and again, leaving her wary and combative. He didn’t want to be responsible for adding another layer to her armor.
She didn’t speak during the drive back to town, and neither did he. When they made it back to Finley’s house, Ian could hear Cinnamon barking a welcome inside. Anytime Bella planned to be gone for the day, she hired a teenager from the village to walk and feed the dog.
Ian shut off the engine and hopped out, prepared for battle. He opened her door. “You’ll have to let me carry you. If you’re on your feet when we go inside, that crazy dog will knock you down.”
“Okay.” In the illumination from the small bulb of the porch light, he could see that Bella suffered. Her face was pale as milk. She clenched her jaw when he leaned in to scoop her up.
He had expected a fight. The fact that she curled her arm around his neck without protest and rested her head against his chest worried him. “Maybe we should go straight to the hospital,” he muttered, torn between wanting to get her comfortable quickly and the possibility the ankle might be broken.
At last Bella put her foot down, metaphorically speaking. “No hospital,” she said. “Not for a sprain. If I can’t put weight on it in forty-eight hours, then I’ll go.”
“Do you have any idea if Finley owns a pair of crutches?”
“Actually, he does. From a motorcycle wreck he had a few years ago. I saw them in the hall closet on the landing.”
“Good. Rest and more rest tonight, but knowing you, you’ll need them tomorrow.”
“I’m not stupid,” she said, her voice subdued. “I’ll behave.”
The entirely inappropriate mental image of making Bella behave gave him a very inconvenient boner. Enough that he stumbled on the top step. “Sorry,” he muttered. He fished out the key his hostess had provided and unlocked the front door. Cinnamon bounded against his legs, almost sending both humans crashing to the floor. “Easy, girl,” he said. “We’re glad to see you, too. But the lady of the house is hurt. You’ll have to help me make sure she’s okay.” He could swear the dog understood every word.
The trek up the stairs past his room and on up to the next floor was slow but uneventful. Bella made a quick visit to the en suite with his assistance as far as the door, and then he tucked her into bed. While in the bathroom, she had changed into a lemon yellow T-shirt and cotton drawstring bottoms in navy with tiny yellow palm trees all over them.
He made her lie back so he could examine her injury. With better lighting, her ankle looked far worse. Puffy and bruised, it was a mess. “I’m wondering if I should wrap it,” he mused aloud.
“Oh no,” she pleaded. “I don’t even know if I can bear to have the sheet touch it.”
“So putting on those pajama pants must have hurt like hell. Why didn’t you let me help?”
Her eyes widened. “Because you would have seen my underwear.”
He grinned. “Leopard print bikinis? Satiny pink thong? Black lace see-through?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her face was red from her throat to her hairline. He loved the way she got all hot and bothered when he teased her. Just like the Banty hens his grand-da used to raise.
He decided to take pity on her. “Shall I forage in the medicine cabinet and see what I can find?”
She nodded carefully, her blue eyes dull with fatigue and discomfort. “I saw a prescription bottle in there, but I didn’t pay attention.”
Fortunately, the tablets were a strong pain reliever left over from Finley’s crash. He examined the bottle with a frown. “This says to take two every four to six hours, but you’re a lot smaller than your brother. What if we try half of one? If that’s enough for you to rest comfortably, it would be better to err on the side of caution.”
“Makes sense. But I’ll need a small snack if you don’t mind. Crackers maybe. I don’t want to upset my stomach. And Ian…” She raised up on one elbow, her expression agitated.
“What?” He rested his forearm against the doorway to the hall, keeping his distance. That was the plan.
“You’re not responsible for me. I really appreciate your help, but after I take this pill, you’re off the clock. Go to sleep or to work or whatever, but don’t think you have to check up on me. I’ll be fine.”
“What if I want to check up on you?” he asked mildly. Her insistence on shoving him out the door sparked his temper.
“Why would you? I’m an adult capable of caring for myself. You’re Finley’s guest.”
“Lord, you’re a piece of work. We’re sharing a house, Bella. We enjoyed a perfectly lovely day together right up until the moment those damned reporters showed up. You’ve hurt yourself, and I’m right here under your roof. What’s the big deal?”
She went paler still, if that were possible. “I don’t like relying on other people.”
It was probably the most honest thing she had said to him thus far. “I’m not infringing on your independence, Bella. The world is a better place when people are kind to each other. Where’s the harm in that?”
“I don’t want you to be kind to me,” she said, the words barely audible. “I’d really rather you tear off my clothes and ravish me.”
Ian was almost positive his heart stopped beating for a full ten seconds. His throat dried and his skin felt clammy. Maybe he was the one in shock. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea.”
“Why not?” She turned on her side, the side without the damaged ankle, and tucked her hand beneath her cheek. Big blue eyes stared at him without blinking.
He coughed. “You’re not serious. You just like getting men to dance around like damned puppets. I won’t be manipulated by sex.”
“Methinks thou doth protest too much.”
The little witch was getting to him. “I’m going to fetch you something to eat,” he said formally. “I won’t be long.”
In the kitchen he opened the freezer and stuck his head inside. Was it possible for a man his age to have a massive coronary? He was shaky and weak, and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Never in his life had he wanted a woman so badly.
Bella was joking. That much was clear. In her condition, nothing would happen even if she weren’t taunting him. She was injured, in pain, and out of control… all valid reasons why a woman like her would try to get the upper hand by teasing him.
His analytical brain sorted through the explanation with concise precision. The resultant conclusion did nothing at all to curb his libido. Proximity and what he believed to be a mutual attraction threatened to do him in….
Thank God for sprained ankles. It was the only thing keeping him from losing more IQ points before morning came.
When he returned to the master bedroom, Bella’s eyes were closed. In Finley’s big king-sized bed she looked defenseless and harmless. Both impressions were false. He’d never met a woman more capable of holding her own with the opposite sex.
While she dozed, he catalogued the contents of the room, giving himself breathing space to handle the next round with his unpredictable sparring partner. Finley’s bedroom was sparsely furnished and gave off a definite masculine vibe. The new bride had added a few touches here and there, bu
t for the most part, this was a man’s hideaway.
No doubt, there would be remodeling done soon. Or perhaps Finley would sell the quirky cottage. That thought saddened Ian. He had always admired the man who crossed an ocean and created the life he wanted. Granted, Finley had been running from something… or someone. Bella and Finley’s father was a hard man by all accounts.
Still, Finley had found himself here in the Scottish Highlands. The motorcycles he built by hand were works of art. The rich and famous came from around the globe to purchase them. Ian had always pitied celebrities and their hemmed-in existence. Now by a quirk of fate, he resembled one in a very minor way.
He must have made a noise, because Bella’s eyes opened drowsily. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“Long day,” he said.
“Yes.”
Avoiding eye contact, he approached the bed and held out a small plate of buttered crackers and a glass of milk. “This will have to do, I’m afraid. Nothing else in the kitchen looked appetizing at this hour.”
She sat up and shoved the hair from her face, wincing when her foot protested. “It’s fine. I’m not really hungry.”
While he broke a pill in half, Bella ate three crackers and drank most of the milk. When he handed her the medicine, their fingers brushed. “I hope this works,” he said.
“Thank you.”
Clearly, the pain was making an impact. That, and fatigue. There was no hint of mischief in Bella’s face now, no teasing repartee. He told himself he was glad. Not that he wanted her to be hurt. But a subdued Bella was less dangerous.
At last she offered him the empty plate and glass. “I’m sure I’ll sleep now. I appreciate your help.”
He shrugged. “You made sure we eluded the reporters at the restaurant. I owe you one for that.”
“Then we’ll call it even. Good night, Ian.”
“Leave your door unlocked. If you fall in the night, I’ll need to get to you.”
“What makes you think I’ll fall?”
“Have you ever walked on crutches before?”
“No. Have you?”
Scot on the Run Page 5