Scot on the Run

by Janice Maynard

  “But why?”

  “I had nothing to offer you. I might be smart, but I had no guarantee that I wouldn’t be like my father and forget to pay attention to you.”

  “So you were afraid I would eventually run away and become a drug addict and spiral into self-destruction?”

  The conversation halted when their food appeared. Bella had never felt less like eating, but she picked at her mashed potatoes.

  Ian thanked the waiter and sent him on his way. His jaw squared like it did when he was displeased. “When you say it that way, it sounds ridiculous.”

  “If the shoe fits.”

  He chewed a bite of beef and swallowed it, his expression stormy. “I went to see my mother that day… the day I left Portree. I wanted to understand why my father still loved her, still cared for her when she had done nothing but hurt him his entire life.”

  “And did you discover the answer to your question?”

  Ian gave her a small rueful smile. “Actually no. I didn’t. Apparently love is something that can’t be explained. It simply is. The notion doesn’t make sense on a scientific level, which is why I struggled so hard to grasp it.”

  “Your father must have suffered a great deal.” And his young son had been there to witness it year after year.

  “I do believe he loved her and loves her still. At one time I thought things could have been different if only he had only been able to show her. Now, I’m not so sure. She was a deeply flawed woman with problems beyond our ken to help her.”

  “Ian…” She felt the few bites of potatoes she had eaten congeal into a lump in her stomach.

  “What?”

  “Did you really fly across an ocean to talk about your mother?”

  His eyes glittered. “I think you know the answer to that question.” He glanced at his prime cut of beef with displeasure. “Would you mind if we get out of here?”

  “It’s an expensive meal.”

  “I don’t give a damn about how much it cost. I was wrong to bring you here. Please tell me you live close by. And that you’ll let me come home with you to get in out of the cold.”

  Her heart fizzed. “I have pizza in the freezer.”

  “Good.”

  “But no guest room.”

  “I suppose that could be good or bad depending upon your perspective.”

  The little flutters that had started in her stomach filled her chest now. “My car is still at work.”

  “I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

  They rose in silence. Ian tossed a hundred-dollar bill on the table and anchored it with the candleholder.

  The waiter rushed over aghast. “Is there a problem with the meal, madam? Sir?”

  Bella smiled at him dreamily. “It was delicious, but we’ve decided it might be dangerous to linger any longer… the snow, you know.”

  “A takeout container,” the employee offered desperately, clearly worried that his Yelp score was going to tumble.

  Bella went up on tiptoe and gave the startled older man a kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas. The meal was fine… wonderful, even. We’ve just discovered somewhere we need to be.”

  * * *

  Ian brought the Range Rover around to the front door of the restaurant, half afraid Bella might have disappeared in the short time he had been gone. Clearly miracles really did happen at Christmas, because his beautiful, sometimes aggravating date was standing right where he had left her.

  Snow fell more heavily now, the accumulation startlingly deep already. Bella was wearing flimsy flats. He scooped her into his arms and carried her the short distance to the passenger seat. When she was settled, he closed her door, loped around the car, and slid behind the wheel.

  The storm had set in with a vengeance. Visibility was incredibly bad, particularly since he had to concentrate with all his might to stay on the correct side of the road. It wasn’t easy with Bella at his elbow.

  She gave him directions calmly, apparently unfazed that they had walked out on a fancy-ass dinner and were close to being stranded in a blizzard.

  “How much farther?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Two more blocks to the next light. Then right on Barker Street. Last house at the end of the cul-de-sac. We don’t have my car, so I’ll run inside and open the garage.”

  He didn’t like that idea. What if she decided to lock him out? But he didn’t have a better suggestion.

  The directions were spot on. When he pulled up in her driveway, Bella hopped out before he could protest. Immediately, she was swallowed up in the veils of snow.

  The moments between the time she got out of the car and the instant the garage door started to go up were some of the longest of Ian’s life. He pulled forward carefully. When he shut off the engine, Bella was waiting for him, standing on the top step that led into the house.

  His overcoat was covered in rapidly melting snowflakes.

  “Take it off,” Bella said, watching him brush the moisture from his sleeves. “I have a coat rack here by the door.”

  He followed her inside, looking around with interest. Her house was small and old, but everything from the gleaming hardwood floors to the kitchen appliances to the double-paned windows had been immaculately updated. “When did you buy this place?” he asked. “It’s charming.”

  “It’s a rental. I’ve been here for almost two years now while I worked on my degree.”

  “I see.”

  Somewhere on the way from the restaurant to Bella’s house, they had lost something. He’d been feeling hopeful, but now everything was awkward and stilted again. “What about that pizza you promised?” he said, forcing a smile he didn’t feel.

  She nodded, her attention on the stack of mail on the counter. “Of course. I’ll preheat the oven. Would you like a glass of wine while we wait?”

  Bloody hell. This wasn’t at all how he wanted things to go. He rounded the small island with the copper sink and put his hand beneath her elbow, needing to touch her. “Can we go into the living room and talk for a few minutes? I have something I want to show you.”

  “Whatever you like.” Bella was wearing her hostess persona. He hated it.

  She led him to a small comfy room with a couch and a loveseat and a television mounted on the wall over an old-fashioned fireplace that had been converted to glass logs. With a flip of a switch, cheery red and gold flames danced and sparked.

  A small Christmas tree sat in front of the window. Bella bent to plug in the lights and then chose to sit in the armchair near the fire.

  Ian sat down as well, frowning and patting the sofa cushion beside him. “Come over here. Please.”

  She was visibly wary, but she did as he asked. What did she think he was going to do? Pounce on her?

  “The snow is getting deeper, Ian,” she said. “You should say what you came to say before it gets too bad for you to make it back to your hotel. I assume you’re out by the airport?”

  “Yes.” Damn. Why was this so hard? He pulled his phone from his pocket and clicked on the photo icon. “This is my flat in London. It’s very nice actually. I have a view of the Thames.”

  Bella leaned closer as he flipped quickly. “It’s lovely, Ian.” She scooted back to her end of the sofa.

  “There’s more,” he said, grinding his jaw.

  “Oh. Sorry.” She returned to her original spot.

  He wanted to use the exact, perfect words. In the end, he simply told her the story. “Two months ago, I approached the couple whose flat occupies the other half of my floor. I offered them 50 percent more than the property was worth, and they accepted. Since then I’ve knocked out walls and remodeled the entire space. You can see the progress in these next several pictures.”

  “Okay.”

  The delicate scent of her perfume made him dizzy. This was the important part. He couldn’t afford to choke on the home stretch. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Bella?”

  Blue eyes, darker than normal, stared up at him. Her gaze darted
from the phone to his face and back again. “I don’t believe I do.”

  Laying the phone aside, he took her hands in his. “I want you to have your own space, the perfect ambience for you to write your novel. I realize that you’ve completed your dissertation in the time we’ve been apart, and maybe you’ve even decided you really wanted to teach. That’s not a problem. I’m willing to do whatever it takes.” He kissed her nose. “Why do you look so confused? Do you not like the idea? You can be honest with me.”

  Bella jumped to her feet and paced, her expression harried. “What idea, Ian? What are you saying?”

  Well, hell. He’d made a mess of it after all. He took a small velvet box out of his pocket and went down on one knee at her feet. Flipping open the lid, he took a deep breath. “Arabella Margaret Craig. Will you marry me?”

  Tears leaked down her cheeks. She didn’t even reach for the ring. Instead, she put her hands to her face. “Ian. You can’t be serious.”

  His heart sank. “You fell in love with me once. Won’t you give me another chance? I won’t ever leave you again.”

  She sat down on the rug as if her legs had turned to spaghetti. Leaning her head against his chest, she cried.

  He put the ring box aside and wrapped his arms around her. “I adore you, Bella. You came into my life and turned everything I thought I knew upside down. These months apart have been a hellish, lonely desert. But I wanted to wait until I could prove that I had room in my life for you, for us. The truth is, though, without you I won’t have any kind of life at all.”

  * * *

  Bella didn’t want to cry anymore. The weeks of grief and heartache and questions caught up with her, though, and she couldn’t stop. The front of Ian’s shirt was wet through with her tears.

  He held her tightly without speaking, resting his chin on top of her head and murmuring words of Gaelic that sounded much like the ones he had used the last time they made love.

  Finally, her sobs dwindled to the occasional hiccup. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I’m not usually so emotional.”

  Ian stroked her hair. “Cry all you want, lass. Your tears are knives in my heart, but I deserve them.”

  She pulled back far enough to look at his ridiculously handsome face. “I love you, Ian. And for the record, I love you exactly the way you are. Redoing your flat is one thing, but you don’t need to change any of the quirks that make you you. I would never ask that. I fell for the man with the incredible brain and the terrible fashion sense and the delightful accent that makes it very hard to carry on a serious argument with you.”

  He wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “That could work in my favor, don’t you think?”

  She nodded, struggling to accept that this moment was really happening. “Perhaps I could look at that jewelry box again.”

  He grinned and reached for it. “I wanted something to match your eyes. Though a mere sapphire could never come close.”

  Bella held her breath as he slid the gorgeous ring onto her finger. It was almost a twin to the one Diana Spencer had made famous and Kate Middleton now wore. The center stone was a deep, brilliant blue, three carats at least, surrounded by a dozen or more perfect diamonds. She held her hand up to the light, loving the way the stones flashed and sparked. “It’s beautiful, Ian… stunning actually. I don’t know what to say.”

  “I thought if it was good enough for a princess, it might come close to being good enough for you. I adore you, Bella.”

  The catch in his voice squeezed her heart. At last, after miserable, lonely weeks of living without him, he was here. He kissed her…gently at first. The taste of him went to her head faster than any wine. “I won’t break, Ian.” After that, talking went by the wayside. He undressed her while they clung to each other, panting, kissing wildly.

  When they were both naked, Ian ran his hands over the gooseflesh on her hip. “We could move to your bed,” he said.

  She could tell from the tone of his voice he didn’t really want to. Neither did she. Inside the house, the fire was crackling… outside, the snow was falling… and here in this small room, all was right with the world.

  He took care of protection and then lifted her in his arms, laying her on the sofa and coming down on top of her. “You’re mine now,” he muttered.

  Bella wrapped her legs around his waist and brushed a lock of hair from his damp forehead. “And you’re mine,” she said. “My dear, impossible genius.” When he entered her with one slow, steady thrust, she groaned. “Don’t stop,” she begged. “Don’t ever stop.”

  He buried his face in her shoulder, his big body shuddering. “I’ll not stop until we’re both too old and senile to care.”

  “Then never,” she whispered softly, feeling the end rushing at her like a storm that couldn’t be escaped. “Never, Ian.”

  They came at almost the same instant, caught up in aching need from weeks spent apart.

  When they could breathe again, Ian lifted up on one elbow, his usually sharp-eyed gaze hazy. “I forgot to ask. May I spend the night?”

  “I was counting on it,” she said, smugly happy. “I was counting on it.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Six months later…

  Bella stood in ivory ballet slippers and a fairytale wedding dress just outside the arched doorway that led into St. Margaret’s Chapel. The panoramic views of Edinburgh this afternoon were incredible, but she barely spared a glance for the scenery. Fidgeting with the bodice of her gown, she glanced at McKenzie who was stunning in aquamarine silk.

  “I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Bella muttered.

  McKenzie smiled sympathetically. “Wedding nerves. I was the same way. The men have taken their places inside, so it’s almost time to go. You look amazing, sweetheart. I would hug you, but I don’t want to mess up your veil. I spent too long getting it exactly right.”

  Bella gazed at her sister-in-law with trembling lips, choked by a wave of emotion. “Thank you for being here today. It means the world to me.” The guest list for the chapel was limited to twenty-five. Ian and Bella had realized early on that it would be virtually impossible to start inviting friends without offending someone. For that reason, they had chosen to have a private ceremony instead, with two receptions later, one in London and one in North Carolina.

  Today in the chapel, the only participants would be the priest, the two couples, one harpist who would act as witness, and the benign spirt of the departed Saint Margaret. Ian had invited his father, but the older man declined, citing his health. He and Bella had met several times by now and were on good terms.

  McKenzie glanced at her watch, opened the door, and smiled reassuringly. “It’s time, Bella.”

  Spilling out into the warm spring sunshine, the lilting notes of the harp filled the alcove with a melodious air from Handel’s “Water Music”. McKenzie walked slowly toward the front and took her place opposite Finley. Bella lifted her chin, took a deep breath, and followed. Though she knew the confines of the small lovely chapel very well by now, she had eyes only for Ian. He was resplendent today in a dress kilt fashioned from the Larrimore tartan. The crisp white shirt showed off his tan and his broad shoulders.

  Afterward, she couldn’t remember the steps that took her from the door to the altar of the chapel, but she found herself in exactly the right spot. She handed her bouquet of white roses to McKenzie. Then Ian took both of her hands in his, smiling. She had never seen him look so happy or so much at peace.

  The elderly priest nodded his head and began to speak. “Friends, we are gathered here today in the sight of God and these witnesses to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. In the millennium that has passed since this kirk was built to honor Saint Margaret and to glorify the Almighty, your children have taken shelter in these walls. They have faced the grief of loss. They have weathered the fear of the unknown. Last but certainly not least, they have experienced the boundless joy we celebrate today. I would ask that you bless Ian and Arabella Margaret on
this day they are wed. Let us pray…”

  Bella experienced some kind of out-of-body experience in those next moments. It was a combination of things perhaps—the scent of lilies on the altar, the feel of Ian’s large warm hands enfolding hers, the misty-eyed emotion on her brother’s face. The priest’s voice rose and fell, repeating ago-old words of faith and commitment.

  Ian slid a simple platinum band on her left hand and repeated his vows. She reciprocated in a clear voice, determined not to cry when she was so very, very lucky to be standing in this historic spot with the man of her dreams.

  At last, it was over. She had wanted to memorize every moment, but her heart was too full. The priest joined their four hands and placed his on top. The blessing and benediction he offered was in Gaelic, one Ian had suggested. Bella had learned the words by heart, and their meaning. She let the old man’s heavy Scottish accent wash over her and fill her with buoyant joy.

  Then the pronouncement, a burst of celebratory music from the harpist, and a flurry of hugs and laughter.

  While Ian thanked the priest and McKenzie spoke to the harpist, Bella pulled her brother aside. “I wanted to tell you something before Ian and I leave on our honeymoon.”

  Finley kissed her cheek. “This was a perfect wedding, Bella. You’re a gorgeous bride. So tell me. What is it?”

  Her cheeks felt hot. “Just a head’s up that you may be an uncle sooner rather than later.”

  He gaped at her. “You’re pregnant?”

  “Oh, no. Not yet. But Ian’s childhood was pretty dreadful. Yours and mine wasn’t too much better. We’ve decided we want a big family, and we don’t want to waste any time. Plus, I’ll have almost a year to work on my novel even if I get pregnant right away, so that will keep me plenty busy in London.”

  Finley beamed. “Well, McKenzie didn’t want to steal your thunder, but she and I are pregnant.”

  When Bella gasped, he shushed her. “Swear to me you won’t let on that I told you. She’d have my hide.”

  “I won’t say a word.” Bella hugged him tightly. “Mama would be proud of us, I think.”