Scot on the Run

by Janice Maynard

  “In exchange for what?” She was flustered and hurt that he would offer her cash after last night.

  He glared. “I have to meet the queen. The place will be crawling with photographers. I thought if you went with me posing as my fiancée, word would get around, and I’d be removed from that ridiculous list.”

  “The queen? Of England?”

  “Aye. Scotland, too.”

  “And you want a fiancée…”

  “In name only,” he said hastily. “Think of yourself as a bodyguard.”

  “Do you know how ridiculous this whole conversation is? Did you hit yourself on the head during last night’s rescue? Do you have a fever? Why would the queen want to meet you?” She paused. “Sorry. That sounded terrible. You know what I mean.”

  His gaze was wry. “Believe me, I was as gobsmacked as you are when I got the word. I’m to receive an Order of the British Empire honor for my civilian contribution to Naval safety. Though traditionally a Buckingham Palace event, this year the queen will host the ceremony at Holyrood Palace instead of London. I suppose it’s a nod to the fact that we Scots voted not to leave the realm.”

  “I see…” Bella shook her head slightly, mostly to see if she was still asleep and dreaming. Nope. The smell of coffee and the sounds of birdsong outside the kitchen window said this was all too real. “I don’t know what to say. Congratulations, Ian.”

  His pained reaction told her he didn’t appreciate her formal response. “I would get out of it if I could, believe me. Apparently, unless I’m on my deathbed, my presence is mandatory.”

  “Well, of course it is. She’s the queen, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Which is why I need you for moral support. I have to get a tux. And maybe a haircut. The whole prospect gives me hives.”

  “Don’t look at me. I’m a clueless American. I wouldn’t know the first thing about accompanying a famous hero to a formal English occasion. Sorry, Ian. Count me out.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I’m not a hero,” he insisted stubbornly. “I created a product that saves lives. The military lads and lasses who do the water rescues are the heroes.”

  “Whatever you say. Your modesty doesn’t negate the fact that the freaking Queen of England is going to pin a medal on your chest. This is huge, Ian. You should be proud.”

  “It’s a medallion, actually. On a fancy ribbon,” he muttered. He was losing the battle. That just wouldn’t do. He’d made up his mind. If he had to go put on a monkey suit and show up at the queen’s residence in Edinburgh, Bella Craig was going to be at his side. It was the only idea that made the upcoming event remotely bearable.

  “Fifty thousand pounds,” he said desperately. “To the charity of your choice. In exchange for three days of your company.”

  Bella had changed since last night. Up until yesterday, he’d been learning to read her facial expressions and the emotional cues in her lovely, deep blue eyes. Now, in the cold light of day, she seemed almost a stranger. It was a peculiar transformation considering they had both been naked in each other’s arms only a few short hours ago.

  Frankly, it had been the best sex of his life. So much so, he’d virtually lost consciousness at the end. A mixture of exhaustion, spent adrenaline, and sexual satiation had left him comatose. Waking up alone this morning was a blow to the gut. Bella had backed away from him. Why, he didn’t know.

  In retrospect, she had seemed eager and responsive every step of the way. Surely she’d had an orgasm there at the end. Hadn’t she?

  Mortification sent heat racing from his throat to his hairline. Holy hell. He had no clue if Bella had climaxed or not. He’d been so ridiculously wound up from months of abstinence, desperately wanting Bella, and the residual effects of making a fool of himself with the reporters that he had completely lost his senses at the last.

  No wonder she was cool and distant today. He’d coaxed her into bed and then left her high and dry.

  She stood up unexpectedly and carried the pitcher of cream to the fridge, her back to him. “That’s a lot of money, even for Bachelor # 2. You’re being ridiculous, Ian. Either go on your own, or ask one of your scientist buddies. You said some of them are women.”

  “I don’t want another woman,” he said urgently. He went to her and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. “Please, sweet Bella. I need you with me. I swear I do.” Resting his chin on top of her head, he inhaled the scent of her shampoo.

  She eluded his grasp and leaned against the sink, arms folded across her chest. “You really don’t know much about the female sex, do you?”

  The tart question was clearly rhetorical.

  He shrugged. “I never claimed to. Are you going to tell me why you didn’t linger this morning for round two?”

  A spot of red appeared on each of her cheeks. Her steady gaze faltered. “I didn’t know that’s what you wanted.”

  “You could have touched me…maybe whispered in my ear,” he said mildly. “And for the record, a man always wants round two.”

  “Ah.” She picked up a drying cloth and twisted it between her hands. Then she shot him a sideways glance. “Here’s the thing, Ian. Did it ever occur to you to simply ask me as a friend to help you out in Edinburgh?”

  “Um…” He felt his throat close up, just as it always did preceding a stutter. Breathing slowly, he controlled the impulse. “I didn’t know our friendship had reached that point,” he said.

  Bella scowled at him, distinctly un-lover-like. “We had sex last night. That’s at least friends-with-benefits where I come from,” she said. “Or perhaps you’re too proud to ask for help? Is that the problem, Ian? Maybe it’s easier to buy what you want?”

  “Damn it…” Most people thought he was a pretty decent fellow. Why did Bella’s unflattering estimation sting so much?

  “If you want my cooperation, that’s my price,” she said, her gaze stormy and stubborn. “A simple request from you—no money changing hands—and the understanding that this trip would be strictly platonic. I want to be very clear about that.”

  “Don’t worry,” he grumbled. “I got the message loud and clear.”

  “And?”

  This whole thing was working out to be a disaster. “What if I say I want to forget about Edinburgh so we can stay here and spend a week or two in bed? Together…”

  Bella nibbled her bottom lip. “Not an option. I take equal responsibility for what happened last night. Don’t worry about that. I learn from my mistakes, though. I like you, Ian. You’re a sweet guy. If I were going to fool around with anybody, it would probably be you. I have to look at the big picture, though. You and I don’t line up. I’m sorry.”

  The feeling in the pit of his stomach felt a lot like despair. “Fine,” he said curtly. “Will you go to Edinburgh with me please, Bella? I would very much appreciate it.”

  She nodded slowly. It was impossible to guess what she was thinking. No Sphinx was ever more inscrutable. “I suppose it could be fun. I’ll make arrangements for Cinnamon. And I’ll tell Finley where I’ll be. Anything else I need to know before we leave?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and ground his teeth. “Not a thing. Not a damn thing.”

  * * *

  Bella packed and unpacked her suitcase half a dozen times in the next seventy-two hours. She had plenty of casual clothes for exploring Edinburgh and the surrounding countryside, but nothing remotely suitable for a formal visit to Holyrood Palace in the company of Bachelor #2.

  Hopefully, she would be able to find what she needed while helping Ian pick out a tux. Honestly, she was surprised he didn’t already own one. Her ankle was recovering nicely, so she wouldn’t have to show up in sneakers, thank goodness.

  She and Ian had spent very little time together since their confrontation in the kitchen. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been well-versed in how to act during an awkward morning after. Her only saving grace was that Ian still had no clue she had fled from his bed the moment after sex. A more sophisti
cated woman would have slept for a while, maybe tried again in the middle of the night, and been more vocal about her wants and needs.

  Bella was book smart, but she was a failure as a femme fatale.

  Fortunately, she had plenty of things on which to focus on other than her own shortcomings, namely her responsibilities to her brother.

  Already, Finley’s charming house seemed like home. Though two different local teenagers would be tending to Cinnamon in Bella’s absence, there were still items to be taken care of: mail, bills, and the like. Not to mention laundry, packing, and creating a list of all the points of interest in Edinburgh.

  In between clothes shopping and the fancy ceremony, Ian had promised to play tour guide. She planned to hold him to that.

  At last Wednesday morning rolled around. Ian had rescued his rental sedan from town and had it washed and filled with petrol, as he called it. All that was left was to load the car and lock up the house.

  Poor Cinnamon’s ears drooped and her tail wagged sadly. She had to know they were leaving. Bella crouched and scratched the dog’s belly. “It’s only three days, my sweet. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “What about me?” Ian asked, lounging in the doorway, watching her with a sharp gaze.

  She stood and shrugged. “I assumed we’d part company after the ceremony. You heading on to London. Me back here.”

  Ian bristled. “Don’t shoo me out the door yet. Finley said I could stay as long as I wanted. I’m not ready to return to London and the rat race. Portree is a delightful wee town. I barely know it yet, so I might stay the whole time you’re here. Perhaps longer.”

  “Is that some kind of threat? I have my novel to work on. You’d be in my way.” This was her turf. Sort of. How dare Ian Larrimore worm his way into what was left of her vacation?

  Before he could answer, her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She scowled at Ian and held up a hand. “We’re not done with this conversation.”

  Turning her back on her tormentor, she swiped to answer the call and smiled. “Hey, Finley. What’s up?”

  Her brother’s voice was cheerful. “Mornin’, Bella. How’s Portree? How’s Cinnamon? How’s my ornery baby sister?”

  “No complaints. Is anything wrong?” She hadn’t expected to hear from Finley while he was on his honeymoon…at least not often.

  “Nothing serious.”

  Her heart sank. “What happened?”

  “Well, McKenzie got food poisoning, and then about the time she felt better, the two of us accidentally fell asleep in the sun, and now she has a bad sunburn. Poor baby just wants to come home.”

  “Oh, no. I’m so sorry, but no worries. I’ll move over to the hotel and give you your privacy.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  She had to hold the phone away from her ear. Finley’s protest was loud and vehement. “You’re newlyweds,” she said. “This is your house. It wouldn’t be right for me to stay.”

  “McKenzie and I will take it as a personal insult if you or Finley try to leave. I’m dead serious about this, Bella. My bride and I have had almost four weeks of wedded bliss. I think we can handle a bit of company. I’ll move things around in my office and get a bed from the attic for you. There’s plenty of room.”

  “If you’re sure…” She didn’t argue anymore. After a day or two, Finley would see that the sweet old house was a little too cozy for a man and his new wife and two extra people.

  “I insist. We’re planning to fly back on Friday. See you then—”

  “Oh, but wait…” It was too late. Finley ended the call.

  “Well, that’s just peachy,” she muttered.

  Ian jingled his keys in his hand. “What is it?”

  “Finley and McKenzie have decided to come home early. They’re adamant that neither of us are expected to leave… In fact, they want us to stay. So I need your help for a few minutes. It won’t take long. They’ll be here before you and I return from Edinburgh. I need to change the sheets, and I want to have all of my stuff out of the master suite.”

  “Where are we taking it?” He had a funny look on his face.

  “Finley says he can set up a bed for me in his office.”

  “You could bunk with me,” Ian said.

  Searching his face for evidence of humor and finding none, she smiled wryly. “I appreciate the offer, but I wouldn’t want Finley to get the wrong idea. He’s very protective of me.”

  “Surely he wouldn’t insert himself into your romantic life.”

  “Clearly you never had a sibling. I wouldn’t put it past him to lock me in my room at night. The man barely saw me for a decade, but now he relishes his new role as family patriarch.”

  Bella didn’t wait to see if Ian would follow. She rushed past him and up the stairs. Flinging open the door to Finley’s bedroom, she winced. Though most of her personal items and some of her clothes were already packed for Edinburgh, the rest of her belongings were scattered here, there, and everywhere in between.

  Ian wandered in and gazed at the semi-orderly chaos of books and papers and everything else she thought she wouldn’t need to meet the queen. “How the hell did you fly from North Carolina with all this?”

  She started picking up books. “Go find a box in Finley’s workroom, will you? I shipped my research materials before I came. When I’m working, I like to have my favorite resources at hand.”

  “You haven’t heard of e-books?” he asked, lifting a sardonic brow.

  “Sneer if you will. You have your process, I have mine.”

  By the time Ian returned with two cardboard cartons, she had sorted and stacked her library into like-sized piles for easier packing. Bookworms learned early in life how to move the important stuff when necessary.

  He dropped the boxes on the floor. “Here you go. Call me when you’re done, and I’ll carry them downstairs.”

  “Hey, wait,” she said indignantly straightening with her hands on her hips. “I thought you said you would help me.”

  Ian shook his head. “No. You said that. I didn’t say anything.”

  “Are you pouting because I won’t move in with you?”

  His grin was wicked. “I don’t pout, Bella. When the time comes, I know how to get what I want.”

  He walked out of the room, leaving Bella to stare, stunned, at the mess she had made. Stupid man. Aggravating, infuriating, oh-so-superior male. Of course she couldn’t share the guest room with him. What would Finley and McKenzie think? Not to mention the fact that Bella was never going to have sex with Ian Larrimore again. Probably.

  It took her just under an hour to stuff everything into the two boxes and a large plastic garbage bag she retrieved from the kitchen. After shoving the bulky containers out into the hallway with her only slightly tender foot, she summoned Finley. “All set,” she yelled.

  Not waiting to see if he heard her, she went to the linen closet, found a fresh set of lavender-scented sheets, and carefully made up the bed. When she was done, she smoothed the coverlet and surveyed the room. All that was left was to touch up the bathroom.

  She’d heard Ian huffing and puffing in the hall as he moved her things downstairs. Since he wasn’t around to make fun of her, she decided to leave a few welcoming touches for the newlyweds. Carefully folding back the covers on either side of the bed, she fetched several of her favorite handmade chocolates she’d bought from a shop in the village and arranged them on the pillows. Then she picked up the one slim volume of Emily Dickinson poetry she had saved out of the packing frenzy and set it prominently on the duvet.

  Standing back to survey her handiwork, she felt a pang of jealousy. Finley was so happy, happier than she had ever seen him in his life. McKenzie brought out the best in him. He doted on her and vice versa. Even so, they still enjoyed arguing and challenging each other. They were both strong, stubborn personalities with their own way of approaching life.

  Bella would like to believe there was a man out there somewhere who would be as perfect for he
r as Finley was for McKenzie. During brief moments over the past few days, she had thought it might be Ian. Sadly, she no longer believed that. He was too much like her in some ways. When they both got lost in their work, they liked to be entirely isolated and alone.

  That was certainly no basis for a relationship.

  Ian had been clear about his desire to remain single. Objectively, she could hardly blame him. He had a wonderful career in a fascinating city surrounded by multifaceted colleagues.

  Why would a man give that up for something so plebian as matrimony?

  She glanced at her watch and winced. They were already an hour and fifteen minutes past their planned departure time. Was Ian one of those men who couldn’t abide having travel pans uprooted?

  Turns out, he wasn’t. She found him waiting patiently in the living room, reading a copy of A Tale of Two Cities he had plucked from Finley’s bookshelf. When Bella entered the room, he set the book aside and stood. “Ready to go?” he asked calmly.

  Something about his manner made her jumpy. It was one thing to be here in Portree with the man. Now they were going to be spend time together in a whole new environment. “I’ll pay for my own hotel room,” she said. “In Edinburgh,” she added, in case there was any doubt.

  He shook his head. “Absolutely not. You’re doing me a favor. There won’t be any cost to you.”

  But there would be. She knew it in her heart, yet she walked out to the car anyway and climbed in beside the handsome, unusual, freakishly intelligent scientist. No matter the outcome, she couldn’t let him go alone. Ian needed her, so she would be there for him.

  The drive from Portree to Edinburgh took just over five hours on a good day. Fortunately, this was an even better day. The sun blazed down gently from a powder blue sky. Lamb-like clouds scampered across the heavens. The air was warm, but not hot. As far as Bella could tell, the weather was the kind of rare gift that made visitors to Scotland dig out their cameras.

  Ian stopped multiple times, patient with her frequent exclamations of delight. With the windswept glens, majestic mountains, tiny villages with tea shops and friendly locals, the miles melted away.