Scottish Swag

by Cristina Grenier

  “Perhaps next time,” she said, barely glancing his way.

  “We’ll eat in Perth tonight,” he said.

  She nodded absently, and he let his need surface full blown for a second. He wanted this woman fiercely, and nothing she did seemed able to rein him in. He wanted to treat her to something different from the fine country fare she had enjoyed the previous evening, because he wanted more time with her. The attraction he had been feeling was not lessened by the busyness of their morning, nor by her attempts to put distance between them. Which reminded him…

  “What makes you think you’ll be able to say no to me?”

  The abrupt shift in conversation caught her off guard, he could tell. She snapped her eyes to his face, her look saying she thought he had probably lost his marbles. He grinned at the look on her face, as she put the sandwich she was eating back on the plate, and closed the water bottle.

  “What makes you think I won’t?” she retorted arrogantly.

  “I can be very persuasive when I wish to be,” he told her, finishing the sandwich he was eating.

  “All that means is that you haven’t yet met your match,” she quipped sardonically.

  He chuckled as he picked a fat strawberry from the bowl and stuffed it into his mouth. He let the sweet juice coat his tongue and savored it before answering her. He needed to remain in control, not just of the conversation but of his wayward body.

  “I have known a lot of women,” he said plainly. “I have never had a problem getting their cooperation. In any venture.”

  “So you’re a ladykiller,” she snapped. “Good to know. And all the more reason for me to be the one that got away.”

  Niall threw back his head and laughed. Willa Mae was a refreshing change from so many of the women he had just mentioned, women who thought they needed to fawn all over him to get his attention, and to get him into their beds. He went where he chose, with whom he chose, though he often let them think they had been the ones to sway him. Willa Mae was as different from them as ever, and it pleased him. He knew he could get her into his bed, but it would require more than the usual stale moves that had worked with the other women vying for his attention. Because this woman wasn’t looking to score in his bed. She was avoiding him as though he had the plague. She was a challenge. And Niall never backed down from a challenge.

  “Tough talk from a woman who can run away and hide tomorrow,” he teased. “But would you be so cavalier if I were to be on your turf, where you had no choice but to remain and try your luck.”

  “I don't need luck against you,” she said, smirking. “I’m tougher than you think.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’re very tough,” he agreed, “but I specialize in tough ladies. The harder they fight, the harder they fall.”

  They both laughed, and the tension that had spiked between them eased inexplicably. Niall noted it…Willa Mae had a sense of humor. It would be his way in past her defenses. For now, he’d follow her lead, but be ready if an opportunity presented itself. Besides, she would be the best kind of ammunition against his family’s stubborn narrow-mindedness. They didn’t like her because she was working for him. She was caught in the middle, and though he felt a moment of chagrin at the thought of how her presence in his life in any way would only bring her grief, he wouldn’t change anything about the way things were. He reveled in the thought of sticking it to his mother, whose idea of gentility made her cold and cruel, and to his siblings, who were spoiled and useless.

  Once they had cleaned up their picnic, Niall drove her through some of the prettiest places in Perthshire before heading to Perth for dinner. He chose a cozy restaurant that specialized in fine Scottish cuisine, but while he wanted her to enjoy the meal, he was more interested in getting her alone close enough to touch. Though he swore silently that he would keep his hands to himself. At least, he’d try.

  After they made their orders, Niall asked Willa Mae about herself.

  “Why did you choose to become a property developer?” he asked, sipping the G&T he’d ordered.

  “My grandparents owned a farm,” she said, her eyes taking on a dreamy faraway aspect. “I went there every summer. I learned to ride there. I learned to swim there. I fell in love there.” She glanced at him for a moment, as if to gauge his reaction to her last statement. When he didn’t respond, she went on. “They lost it when grandpa died of a massive heart attack unexpectedly. Grandma couldn’t run it alone, and it began to lose money. She was finally bought out by a property developer claiming to be looking to build housing for middle-income families around a central theme. They told her the farmhouse would remain intact to be used as a bed and breakfast for the community, to create new jobs and bring income into the area.”

  “I take it that wasn’t what they did?”

  She turned rueful eyes to his face. “No. My grandmother moved to an assisted living facility in Florida, and as soon as she was settled in, they demolished everything and built a golf course and clubhouse with accommodations for golfers who didn't live close by.”

  “Did your grandmother ever find out?”

  “I told her. I knew there was nothing either of us could do, but I was determined to see to it that no one else’s heritage was ever stolen from them like that. I was in college at the time, going for an art history degree. I switched my major to business administration, and looked for work in real estate offices while I was finishing the degree.”

  “And how long have you been doing this work?” Niall liked the passion he could sense in her response. She loved her job, and found purpose in it, and he thought that was admirable.

  She eyed him suspiciously. “Are you trying to find out how old I am, your lordship?”

  Niall laughed, noting the jab at his title, but was prevented from responding by the arrival of their food. Once the waiter left, he speared a piece of the salmon he had ordered and said, before stuffing it into his mouth,

  “I can just ask, if I want to know. And I’m sure you’d tell me, because you’re a modern woman, unafraid to speak her age. For you it is a badge of honor.”

  He knew he had gotten it right when she lowered her eyes at once without responding. She sipped the water in her glass and then said,

  “I’ve been in the real estate industry for eight years, and a property developer for this company for the last four. Satisfied?”

  “I am. You answered my question.” He ate another piece of the fish.

  “Even the unspoken one?” she demanded, looking him in the eye again.

  He smiled. “There was never an unspoken one. That was just in your mind.” He sipped his drink and then added, “But if you wish to tell me your age, I’ll be happy to know it.”

  She didn’t answer his teasing, but went back to her meal, and only after she had eaten half of everything on her plate did she say, turning the tables on him,

  “What do you do for a living, Niall?” She smirked at him when she added, “I know it’s not running a bed and breakfast in a small castle.”

  Now she was teasing him? It made his blood run a little hotter in his veins.

  “I invest in properties around the world, and turn them over for a profit.”

  “Why do you need Creative Legacies, then?” she asked accusingly.

  “I’m not a property developer in the same way as you are. I buy and sell property, much of it just empty land. I don’t take and make things different. I don’t do business development.”

  She seemed to consider his words, frowning as she ate. Some of the juices from the beef she had ordered clung to her bottom lip, and as he watched in total fascination, she licked it away, unaware of his eyes on her, and thankfully, of the sudden spike of lust that made his slacks tighten around his hips. He looked down at his own neglected meal just so he could break the seductive spell that her innocent action was looping around him.

  “Based on the portfolio my boss shared with me, you’re a billionaire. And all you do is turn over property?”

  Pushi
ng his plate away from him, he waited until she looked up at him again before replying.

  “An astute businessman knows that it takes more to amass wealth than hard work.”

  Her eyes twinkled, and he prepared himself for another dose of her wit. “You don’t have any false modesty, do you?” she asked with a chuckle.

  Niall raised his brows at her. “Simply stating facts is not a sign of arrogance, which you have accused me of before. Would you deny the truth of what I just said simply because you think me arrogant?”

  “Most men seem to think they’re God’s gift to sunshine by default,” she said. “I don’t mean to be offensive…”

  “If I were offended, I would have told you so,” he interrupted her, not wanting her to be uncomfortable. He liked it when she was snippy and antagonistic. He did not like it when she was apologetic without reason. He loved her feistiness because it meant she was a passionate woman…the kind of woman he wanted to pursue for more than her intelligence.

  “Do you not like men who are self-confident, then, Willa Mae?” he inquired next.

  “I don’t like men who are pushy,” she retorted immediately. Her gaze was full of meaning.

  “Noted,” he said, chuckling. “I will refrain from pushing…too often.”

  “If you plan on getting anywhere with me, you won’t push at all,” she snapped, then smiled reluctantly when she saw the smirk on his face. “You said that on purpose, didn’t you? To push me.”

  He nodded. “Guilty as charged,” he admitted, grinning at her. “There are a few reasons that I find you attractive, Willa Mae. This is one of them. You let nothing slide.”

  He saw immediately that she had not expected that admission from him, and that it unsettled her. She lowered her gaze once again to her plate, putting the knife and fork together to show she was done eating. He raised a hand, asking as he did so,

  “What would you like now? Wine? Coffee? Dessert? All three?”

  “I’ll have a glass of moscato, please. No dessert.”

  She was all cool and demure, and his breath hitched. He ordered her wine and coffee for himself, and when the drinks came, she sipped delicately at it.

  “Good?” he asked, watching her.

  “Very!” She licked her lips, and he barely managed to stifle a moan. Maybe he should keep teasing her, so she would do things with her mouth other than lick it. When they talked, his lust eased.

  “Is there a particular reason that you are so cautious with men, Willa Mae?”

  Her sharp gaze shot up to his face. “Why do you ask?”

  He noted her avoidance again. “You seem to have very fixed notions about us, none of the ones you’ve shared being especially flattering. I just wondered if some foolish man had spoiled you for the rest of us with his misbehavior.”

  She sighed. “My parents are divorced, after thirty-four years of marriage. And while I concede that my mother has her issues, it’s mostly my dad’s fault. They both agree on that.”

  She leaned back in her chair, her face a mask of subdued frustration.

  “None of us knew that they were going through such hard times as a couple, because they hid it well enough that we just assumed it was the typical older couple been-together-too-long syndrome. It wasn’t. They weren’t even talking to each other about the important things. And when they tried, my mother shut down because my dad was always swooping in like Superman to right all wrongs and make things better, even when he couldn’t. He refused to admit that he was merely mortal, that he didn’t have all the answers, that he couldn’t fix everything. And he didn’t respect my mother’s feelings, or her need for distance, or her opinions, even when he seemed to be asking for them.”

  She blew out a breath and looked up with something like embarrassment. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to vent like that.”

  He didn’t know what to say in response to her obvious despair. Aside from frustrated anger, his feelings for his family were nothing like hers for her parents evidently was. After that, he couldn’t get her to speak again, so once he paid for dinner, they left. It had just gone half past nine, and the drive home would be almost an hour.

  “When is your flight home tomorrow?” he asked as he started the engine.

  “I’ll need to be at the airport for noon. The flight leaves at two in the afternoon.”

  He’d make sure she had breakfast in bed in the morning. He tore his mind away from the thought of her in bed, spread out against the creamy white sheets, her dark skin contrasting seductively with the cotton, his body pressing her down into the pillowy mattress.

  “Although today was really full, I had a lovely time. Thank you, Niall.”

  Her simple words of thanks brought him back to reality, away from a dream he knew would be hard won, if at all.

  “Enough to come back for a real visit?” he asked. “Perhaps when the house is fully renovated, and the bed and breakfast is up and running?”

  “I’d love that,” she said. “I’m sure your family will approve of me more as a paying guest.”

  Her tone was sharply sardonic, and then she gasped and put a hand to her mouth, clearly realizing how her words might sound to him. He laughed, and he felt her eyes on him in the dark interior of the car.

  “You’re probably quite right, lass,” he said, needing to set her mind at ease.

  “I didn’t…I wasn’t…”

  He reached over and took her hand, placing it beneath his on his thigh. “I prefer you to be honest, Willa Mae. My family often offends me, too.”

  He could feel her quivering under his big hand, and he liked that she was not unaffected by his touch. He managed not to squeeze her hand beneath his, because he didn’t want her to remove it, because he wanted to comfort her as much as he wanted to feel her softness against his flesh.

  “They are just afraid of what such big changes as you’re planning to make will mean for them. Change is very difficult for older folk.”

  He liked that she was willing to make excuses for people she didn’t know who had treated her poorly, because she understood that on some level their responses to her weren’t meant to be personal. They were affronted by what she represented, by the threat that she posed, but not by her because they didn’t know her.

  “You’re very kind,” he said, “but my siblings are twenty-six, and bone idle. They’re just afraid they’ll have to go out and find real work to do.”

  “You mean they wouldn’t want to work with you in managing things?”

  “Perhaps Alison might be persuaded to use her degree to that end. She’s the less likely of the two to be a firm dissenter. But Angus would rather boil himself in oil than lift a finger to help me. He thinks I’m the favorite son, and resents me for the perceived slight to him.”

  “I’m sorry. Your family situation seems much more complicated than mine.”

  This time, he couldn’t stop the impulse that had him raising her hand to his lips and holding them there, pressing them against his mouth, wishing he could kiss her cheek, her neck, or her lips instead. He let her go, suddenly unable to bear the feel of her skin beneath his, and muttered a hoarse “thank you”. They didn’t speak for the rest of the trip, and she didn’t wait to be helped out when the car stopped in front of the house. Luckily, Andrews was waiting for them just inside the door.

  “I’ll have a nightcap, please Andrews, in my study. I’ll escort Ms. Jamison up now.”

  He knew she wanted to get away from him after that moment in the car, but he wasn't quite ready to release her. After tomorrow, he didn’t know when he would see her again. Every moment together between now and the time he left her at the airport had to count. He followed her up the stairs and stopped before her door, waiting as she opened it and walked in.

  “I didn’t need an escort, but thanks for the gesture. I’ll say goodnight now.”

  “Goodnight, Willa Mae. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Her smile lit him up, and he returned it with a wink. Her eyes
widened as she turned away, making him smile wider. He would get her into his bed if it was the last thing he did.

  Chapter Six: Reunion

  It had been a month since Willa Mae’s return from Scotland, and plans had been stalled on Niall’s end. She didn’t need to be there for the renovation part, and he was already looking into hiring staff to work for him when it was complete. From what she could tell, however, his family was still fighting against his efforts, with the latest being some kind of town board planning meeting that his brother was trying to have called to stop the plans from going further than paper. Her boss, Jill Meyer, had called her in to discuss how to move the agenda along so renovations could begin. They had had to make the predictions for opening longer than six months, in hopes that the road blocks being put in the way of progress would eventually all be removed.