SECOND CHANCES: A ROMANCE WRITERS OF AMERICA® COLLECTION

by ROMANCE WRITERS OF AMERICA®

  “How are you today?” That timbre rolled out like a lazy thunder.

  “Well, thank you. I spent the day at the National Library hunting through some records. Hoped that would give us a head start. But I wasn’t anticipating the rain.” I looked up at the steely sky, which made a nest of my brown curls.

  “Aye, it rains more here than in Tex-sus, I’m sure.” He said the word with a Southern drawl, and I laughed at his teasing.

  “Oh, is that how I sound, Mr. Scottish Solicitor?” I put my hand on my hip and pinched my face together, trying to mimic a stodgy lawyer. I knew I was ridiculous, but he laughed, a sound that carried us into the ancient building.

  “Wow,” was all I could say as we entered. The stoic and imposing space stretched beneath a soaring dome. I turned in a circle, taking it all in, until I realized Cairn was studying me. His expression conveyed something … fiery. I swallowed before asking, “How was your meeting?”

  “Long. We’re working on a tough confirmation right now for a rather well-known fellow whose affairs were not in good order when he died. It’s been a bit of a mess, and there’s a lot of pressure from the family to decide inheritances.”

  “The stuff of novels.” I smiled. “Where people’s entire lives hinge on their great expectations.”

  Amusement danced in his eyes. “Aye, something like that.”

  Cairn directed me up a flight of stairs and into a dark-paneled room with an ornate, cream-colored ceiling. Stacks of red, green, and brown ledgers were piled on a long wooden table.

  “Census records.” He gestured to a chair. “Everybody living in Edinburgh in the nineteenth century would have to be listed in one of these ledgers. If your great-great-grandfather was born here, then his name is somewhere in one of these books.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  “I thought I’d give us a head start, too,” he said.

  Cairn and I spent several hours going over the archives. I was used to demanding work as a pediatric nurse, but I wondered if he had somewhere he needed to be. The building had closed, but somehow he’d gotten special permission for us to stay.

  “I can keep researching, but do you need to go?”

  Cairn scribbled on a yellow notepad at the end of the table. He wore his wire glasses but not his suit jacket and tie. Those he’d tossed over another chair. The top two buttons of his shirt were open, and he’d rolled his sleeves up his lovely, sculpted forearms. He studied me over his glasses, the same tone as his vest, and before my brain could process this vision, my stomach growled. Loudly. He set down his pen.

  “No, but you do. Let’s go eat.”

  As we walked to a nearby pub, a bitter wind forced me to shiver, and before I could protest, Cairn slipped his suit jacket over my shoulders. It was heavier than expected and smelled of earth and something verdant. A faint recollection drifted from the edge of my memory: roasting marshmallows with my husband on a camping trip in Colorado. There was a lot of coaxing, a pinewood fire, and smoky, vanilla sweetness on our lips as we made love under the stars.

  When I was first widowed, every sight, smell, and sensation tormented the space between my mind and heart. After a while, the associations dimmed, but even on good days grief pulled me like a riptide to a dark place. I inhaled the scent of Cairn’s jacket, fighting the onset of tears. I didn’t know I’d closed my eyes until he grabbed my hand. His touch was electric and authoritative, a command I didn’t yet understand.

  “Let’s stop here.”

  He pulled me off the sidewalk and through a narrow doorway. The pub was classic with dark wood, long tables, and a fireplace in a corner. Cairn seated us near the fire and caught me smiling. “Do you like it?”

  “I do. It’s exactly as I imagined a Scottish pub would be.”

  He raised an eyebrow, a gesture I came to expect now. “Sticky, dirty, and full of drunk men?”

  I laughed and ran my hand across the worn table, which was, honestly, a little sticky. “No. I would say old, quaint, and full of character.”

  “Aye, that it is. More characters than you care to know, I can promise you that.”

  “Speaking of characters, it must be nice having such a big family. What’s that like?”

  “It’s good. I spend a lot of time with them. I need to direct my brother in the ways of becoming a man.” He winked. “I’m so much older than him that I don’t want to miss being a brother. Ansley is a sassy teenager, so I’ve got to give her hell, you know. And then there’s little Lizzie.” His voice turned hollow. “She’s sick. Leukemia. It’s a bad deal.”

  Cairn traced a splintered corner of the table with his finger. “She’s not responding to treatment anymore. She needs a transplant. Bone marrow. But none of us is a match. It’s the beginning of the end, I think.”

  The gravity of his words hit me. I knew from my work that blood relatives only had a small chance of being a donor match. Seventy percent of people don’t have a family match at all. And Lizzie was adopted.

  “What about her birth family?”

  “Out of the picture.”

  “And a bone marrow or blood registry? There’s no match there?”

  “Her doctors are on it, but so far … nothing.” Cairn scrubbed his face and looked away.

  A loss like this, of the best being taken while those who loved them watched, powerless, was brutal, I knew. “I’m sorry,” was all I could say.

  “Yeah, me too.” Cairn said his next words with a cautious tone. “And your family? What were they like?”

  “They were wonderful.” When he didn’t push, I felt a nudge from within to go on. “A drunk driver killed them two years ago. We were going out to dinner, and I was running late. I told them I would meet them there.” His bright blue eyes focused on me with such sorrow that I shrugged. “It can’t be undone. No matter what I do.”

  Cairn shifted closer to me and put his hand over mine, and I trembled, just once. Would I ever get used to this man touching me? At the thought, an ache bloomed in my belly, and my pulse quickened. Cairn’s fingers drifted over my wrist.

  “No, it can’t,” he said. “You can only go forward.” His face hovered so near mine I could almost breathe in his words. He lifted one hand as if he might touch me but paused when I took a sharp inhale.

  “Do you know that from experience?” It was too personal, I knew, but I needed the space.

  “Yes, I do.” He let his hand fall to the table. “We were young, knew each other from our primary days. Our families were good friends.” Cairn leaned back and picked up the glass of ale that arrived. “But I was a dumb kid trying to take on the world. I wanted to be a big shot, so I made that my priority, and not her. So she found another guy to make her his priority. While we were still married, I might add. It was over really before it began.”

  “And you got to have the career you wanted?”

  “Yes, but it came at a price. We aren’t friends anymore, and neither are our families. My parents were disappointed. I felt really bad about that for a long time because they raised me better than that. I hurt her, and she, in turn, hurt me and all the honor went out of our marriage.”

  I nodded.

  “But I won’t make the same mistakes the second time around.” He set the glass down with finality. “I learned that. I want the kind of marriage my parents have, with someone who wants the same things I do.”

  “And what is that?” I asked with trepidation.

  “Family. Home. The things that really matter, for the rest of my life.”

  I swallowed and examined my own corner of the table. So did I.

  This time, Cairn’s hand made it to my face. He tilted up my chin.

  “I know it’s important to have family. I promise I’ll do what I can to help you find yours.”

  In that moment, I’d almost forgotten that was what I was here for.

  C
AIRN WAS AS GOOD as his word, and over the next week, we fell into a routine. During the day, I visited libraries and public offices. Cairn always joined me later, throwing his suit jacket over a chair and unbuttoning his shirt. When his glasses went on, I knew we were in it for the long haul. We would work for hours, only getting up to stretch or find coffee.

  When my eyes were too tired to read, I would take a break and study him instead. That wave of raven hair always cascaded across his brow, but he never pushed it back. Many times I imagined myself touching that hair, touching that face. It became evident that I liked this man very much.

  “I can’t believe what you’re doing for me,” I stammered one night. “I mean, you don’t even know me. Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

  Cairn examined me a beat over his glasses. “Nowhere but here.”

  After our research, I always walked to the Brightwell home, enjoying the graying streets at night, while Cairn walked in the opposite direction to his flat. One night a week later, however, we stayed out until almost midnight going over records and talking. As we stepped into the dark, I started in the direction of home, but Cairn grabbed my arm, pulling me to his side. The touch points sent tingles across my skin.

  “It’s too late to walk. Let me get you a taxi.”

  When it arrived, I started to say goodnight, but he surprised me by getting in. He pulled me next to him, flush against his side, and the feel of his warm body against me sent a jolt right to my core.

  Cairn said nothing until we arrived at the Brightwell home, where he got out first and pulled me to him again with such intensity that I almost stumbled. His hands fell to my hips as he steadied me against the car, and he dipped his face close to mine.

  “Please don’t ever walk home alone on nights like this. If it’s late, I will get you a taxi, and I will ride with you.” His voice strained as he controlled the words. I felt his breath on my lips and caught the heady scent of his body beneath his unbuttoned shirt. I wanted to kiss the smooth plane of skin beneath his collarbone. My eyes flew to his, and without thinking, I licked my lips.

  Oh, God. Cairn’s eyes darkened with something I hadn’t seen before. His hands, firm and heavy, still gripped my hips.

  “Do you understand?”

  Unable to speak, I nodded. But like a movie reel coming to its end, I watched the distance between our mouths close in slow motion until the taxi driver’s voice stopped us centimeters apart.

  “Mate, do you want to pay, or do you want to go?”

  Cairn took a frustrated inhalation and released me. When I turned back, he was leaning against the car, his hands in his pockets, mouth parted ever so slightly, as if he intended to call after me.

  I didn’t sleep well after that.

  As another week passed, the single thread linking me to family in Scotland unraveled. My great-great-grandfather was as real as sun and stone in the United States, but Cairn and I learned that in Scotland, he was a ghost. His past, like my future, seemed as intangible as the mist.

  What I failed to learn about my family, however, I made up for with Cairn. He told me about his life in Edinburgh, his schooling at Glasgow, and what he loved and hated about his work. I learned that he didn’t like pickles but had a thing for flavored mustards (I teased him plenty about that). He told me about being an only child until his parents had Brian and Ansley, and then still convinced there was more good to be done in the world, adopted Lizzie.

  When he talked about Lizzie, his eyes clouded, and chinks appeared in his commanding façade. Over the past two weeks, her condition had deteriorated. The Brightwells tried to keep things at home cheerful, but her bubbly personality started to dull with her pain. It was unbearable to witness.

  If I had known my family would die, I would have moved God, man, and mountain to stop it. Instead, waiting for them at the restaurant, watching the ice melt in my glass, I had gotten a phone call. I was told they were dead, and just like that, the life I had known evaporated.

  Sometimes I wondered when Cairn would get the same phone call, and my heart broke.

  I prayed for a different call to come.

  “TELL ME AGAIN ABOUT Texas,” Ansley said. She sat next to me on the floral couch. Brian stretched across the floor, absorbed in a book. Cairn sat with his father by the fire and observed me as had become the norm. He hadn’t tried to kiss me again, but a strong sexual current constantly swirled around us. It was difficult to ignore.

  “Actually, I have a different story to tell.”

  “Did you get a break in your research?” Eleanor asked in a small and tired voice from one of the overstuffed chairs, where she rubbed tiny circles across a sleeping Lizzie’s back.

  “No.” I studied the faces of those I’d come to love before pulling a folded paper from my pocket. “Something better.” I spoke to Cairn.

  “After you told me about Lizzie, I got tested. I’m a match.” Something started to work in his eyes. Disbelief, maybe? And hope? And something else, something I hadn’t seen in a long time.

  Eleanor cocked her head, and Max let out a strangled sound. I kept my eyes on Cairn.

  “I’m going to be her stem cell donor.”

  Eleanor started to cry.

  The rest of the words rushed out. “I got good feedback on my results. I’m going to start the meds to stimulate my stem cell production on Monday. It won’t take long for me to be, uh, ready for the procedure, and when my levels are good, I can donate.”

  By now Eleanor was weeping, as were Brian and Ansley. Lizzie woke and, upon seeing everyone else cry, burst into tears. Max pulled her into his lap.

  I examined my notes, blurry through my own tears.

  “Um—” I faltered. I glanced at Cairn again, who sat immobile with a hand over his mouth. Tears shimmered in his eyes, eyes filled with so much emotion I could barely breathe.

  “This is going to work,” I managed. “This is going to work. I know it.”

  Cairn got up from his chair and went to his mother, who was now folded over Brian at her feet. He put a hand on her shoulder and leaned down to say something in her ear, his eyes fixed on me.

  I rose to give the family privacy, but Ansley jumped up, wrapping her arms around me. I turned and hugged her as tightly as I could.

  “I knew you came here for a reason,” she squeaked in my ear, her wet cheeks pressed against mine. The same thought had crossed my mind many times since landing in Edinburgh. My hope of finding my own family had brought me to this family, who through some marvelous twist of fate needed me.

  “I know,” I said, pulling back and sweeping overgrown bangs from her eyes. “I’m so glad I can help her.”

  Confusion etched her face. “Not just for her. For him. He’s always here with us, but no one is there for him.” I turned to where she nodded and saw Cairn watching me with an intensity that sent white-hot heat through my body.

  We stayed up late that night talking and making plans, and by two a.m., Cairn still hadn’t left.

  “Sweetheart, why don’t you stay over?” Eleanor asked.

  He instantly agreed. The thought of sleeping under the same roof as him made my body burn.

  Eleanor and Max lingered at my bedroom door. They studied me with eyes red and swollen from crying. “You,” Eleanor said as she tucked my hair behind my ear, “Are the very best gift.”

  “Aye, and we love you,” Max added. As he leaned in for a gentle hug, I saw Cairn behind him. The entire night, he hadn’t said a word to me, but the expression on his face confirmed what he felt.

  My heart stopped. I didn’t expect to be loved again, but this family loved me. And I hadn’t expected to fall in love again, but I had fallen in love with this family. And Cairn. He changed everything. I backed into my room.

  Ten minutes later, I heard a knock. Without waiting for an answer, Cairn walked in and shut the door behind him.
r />   “What are you doing?” I pulled the sheet up over my thin nightgown.

  Cairn’s gaze raked over me, and without a word, he sat on the bed, positioning his arms around my body. Still clutching the sheet, I scooted back as far as I could. “Cairn?”

  With one hand, he pulled the sheet away. I gasped as he wrapped his other hand around the back of my neck and drew me closer so that our foreheads touched.

  “Bea, why are you doing this?” His voice was firm, but not cold.

  “What?”

  “Why are you doing this? I need to know. Why are you doing this for us?” His gaze traveled from my face down to my negligée and back. His question pissed me off more than his roving eyes.

  “Why do you think?” I said, pushing him away from me. He sucked in a breath. “I’m doing it for your family! For that little girl so she’ll have a chance to live! For your mother so she doesn’t have to bury a child! I’m doing it for your father so he can read her stories and give her away on her wedding day …”

  Something started to break in me, so I clutched at his shirt for strength.

  “I’m doing it for your brother and sister so they can tell everyone what an awesome little sister they have.” I pushed against his chest. “And I’m doing it for you because you are a good man who loves his family and has been kind and generous to a total fucking stranger who walked in off the street!”

  At this, Cairn grabbed the back of my head and crashed his mouth to mine so fast I let out a cry. He wrapped his other hand around my waist and hauled me forward until I straddled him. And there, he held me in place and kissed me hard.

  It was rough and needful. His lips worked mine until they parted, and he thrust his tongue into my mouth, sending a shock directly between my legs. He tasted of vanilla and the faintest scotch, and this combined with his scent made me whimper. Keeping his hand behind my head, he plundered my mouth, tasting my lips and my tongue, and swallowing my breath until I was dizzy.