by Kam McKellar
Her mood plummeted.
“I'm sorry I frightened you, Abbie,” he said at length and she glanced up to find sincerity in his gaze. He unwrapped the towel to take a look. “It's a small cut. Might be sore for a little while.”
“It'll be fine,” she plastered on a smile she didn't feel. “Won't let it put a wrench in my day.”
“Any plans I can help with?”
“Not really. Was just going to check out the ruins. Take some notes. Do a little work.” And hope to hell the ruined castle would somehow inspire her and take her mind off the man in front of her.
“I have a first aid kit in my truck. We'll fix it up and you should be good to go.”
Abbie watched him leave and let out a heavy breath. She'd made a terrible first impression. And, yeah, he probably had developed a certain view of her, which was so far from who she really was that it gnawed at her. She told herself his opinion didn't matter, but the truth was, it did. It mattered to her.
* * *
Once Liam was outside, he stopped, scrubbed hand down his face, and drew in a shaky breath. Abbie knocked him completely off-kilter. He went for the kit in his truck, trying to cull the memory of her brilliant cleavage from his mind, but it didn't budge, the image likely branded into his brain for all time. That thin cotton clingy thing she wore had done very little to hide what was underneath. He'd had a hell of a time keeping his eyes off her breasts and all the exposed olive skin... To make matters worse, her pink cheeks and sensitive eyes that told him she'd been extremely aware of him.
She was as attracted to him as he was to her.
And last night... He thought this morning would diminish the affect her words had on him, but he was wrong. Hell, Hamish had been all set to drive to the cottage and fix the water heater. And what had Liam done? He'd taken on the job himself. Just to see her again and see what mind-altering things she might say today.
Abbie Murphy was the most exciting thing to come to Balmorie in a long time.
And there he was acting like a horny teen, trying not to look and failing miserably. And worse, he was an ass for noticing anything at all when she was bleeding over the sink. Not to mention the fact that if it hadn't been for him, she wouldn't have cut herself in the first place.
Brilliant job, MacLaren. Bloody brilliant.
He should fix the heater and leave. His interest in her was entirely different than what he was used to, what he allowed. His usual type of women were like him, interested in a satisfyingly good time. And no strings. No need to know more. To get involved. To care.
With Abbie, he wanted to know more. And that was a bloody good sign he should walk away.
And, yet, as he returned to the cottage, he was already figuring out a way to spend time with her.
Liam went straight to the counter, tabling the internal debate for now, opened the kit, checked her wound again, glad to see it had stopped bleeding.
“Do you have any Band Aids in there?” she asked.
“Aye, but if you're going to be walking on this, tape and gauze will hold better. Does it hurt still?”
Abbie shrugged. “A little. I've stepped on glass before. The pain ends up being more of a nuisance than anything.”
“'Isn't deep. Shouldn't bother you for too long. I wouldn't advise walking to the ruins. By the time you get there, it might hurt too much for you to explore.”
“I'm riding the bike.”
He finished taping her wound. “Let me drive you. It's the least I can do for causing this mess.”
She thought for a long while, chewing on her bottom lip with indecision. He looked away, not needing to see her teeth over that plump lip... He wasn't sure why it mattered so much, but his pulse had risen with the question and he found himself nervous, which hadn't happened with a woman in . . . well, years.
“I'll fix the water heater while you get ready,” he said.
“All right,” she decided, looking as though she wanted to say more, but then decided against it. “Thanks.”
“Brilliant.”
He slipped a hand under her knees and lifted her from the counter. As her arms came around his shoulders, her hand brushed the back of his neck, giving him a start. Aye, it felt good having her in his arms. Good and exciting and disconcerting. She smelled like a ripe peach, the scent lingering in her hair. Her cheeks were pink again and she appeared a bit uncomfortable as she met his gaze.
Aye, he knew just the feeling.
Liam stepped around the mess on the floor and deposited Abbie on the steps that led to the loft. With a quickly mumbled thanks, she turned and limped up the stairs.
He found the broom and began sweeping up the remnants of the broken mug before cleaning the coffee from the floor. After that, he took the broom outside and brushed the bristles against his boot near the bushes to rid it of any small shards. He returned to the kitchen and swept two more times. Just in case. When he felt sure there was nothing more, he turned his attention to the job he'd come here for in the first place.
CHAPTER 4
Allowing Liam to take her to the ruins was practical.
She wanted to explore and jump start her creative process. Waiting until her foot healed would've wasted precious time. So, yeah, it was totally practical. It had nothing to do with the fact that every time she looked at him, her insides screamed like a little girl at Disneyland.
Abbie was so determined to go with the practical angle that she made a point to leave her skin without a stitch of makeup. The mascara didn't count—those were lashes after all. She dried her hair, twisted it back up, pulled on a bra and her old Sherlock Holmes T-shirt, and finished off with jeans and sneakers.
It was too early to call home and check on Logan, so she'd save that for her return. Gathering her notebook, camera, and pens, she shoved them into her canvas bag before grabbing a light jacket.
She found Liam outside, putting a tool bag in the back of his truck. At the sound of her footsteps, he glanced over his shoulder.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
Because while she wasn't an easy score—and didn't want Liam to think she was—her attraction to him just might prove otherwise. And, of course, there was the elephant in the room so to speak. She felt the need to clear the air about her confessions last night, to make him see that she wasn't some hot and bothered, desperate, divorced...
Except, she kind of was.
“All set?”
She couldn't find her voice, so she nodded and got into his truck. He shut the door behind her. As he walked around the front, her eyes tracked his movements. Yeah. She was in serious trouble.
Of course, if she wanted to have a hot affair with the hunky Scot, she wouldn't have to worry about any messy attachments...
So why not go for it?
But, she knew why.
She didn't want to hurt when it came time to leave. And with Liam she sensed that her heart would get involved. And she'd been hurt enough. Whatever fun she might have with him just wasn't worth the pain of falling for him and then leaving.
As they made their way down the dirt track to the hill that overlooked the ruins, Abbie stared out the window and let the view take her attention.
“You like the Highlands,” Liam noted.
She glanced at him and smiled. “I love them. And there's so much history here...” They fell into silence. Biting her lip, she tried to think of a way to clear the air and address last night. Liam seemed at ease, but she wasn't, and while she wanted to act like his opinion of her didn't matter, she still wanted to change the impression she'd given him last night. So much so that she angled in her seat, drew in a deep breath and said, “Thank you. For your help last night. I was a little drunk and . . . talking nonsense. Please don't take anything I said...um, to heart or anything, okay? I'm usually not so...direct...”
She had to give him credit for keeping his cool even though he couldn't stop his mouth from twitching. Great. He thought it was funny. He glanced over and saw her frown. “Would it make you f
eel better to know something of an intimate nature about me?” he asked.
Well, she hadn't expected that. But now that he'd offered... “Really?”
He shrugged, totally confident. “Sure. Ask me anything.”
Oh, that was a loaded offer. Part of her really wanted to shock him, to see if he really meant it. Her thoughts went super dirty, and she had to clear her throat to get back on track. Maybe it was better if she didn't... “I'm fine. Thanks for offering though.” Then, she quickly changed her mind. “Okay. When was the last time you had sex?” If he knew her timetable it was only fair she knew his.
Abbie wanted to bury her head in her hands. But Liam laughed. “Well, let's see... Last winter. Wedding hook up.”
“Ah,” she murmured. Longer than she would have guessed. “And how was it?”
He glanced over, humor brimming in his blue eyes. “It was good. Very good.”
Heat stung her cheeks. She'd just bet it was...
“That's two questions,” he said. “Mind if I ask you one?”
Crap. “Sure if you don't mind if I don't answer.”
“Fair enough. What you said last night... Why has it been so long for you?”
She'd half expected him to ask her if it had really been four years, but he'd dug down a little deeper. “Well, that's hard to answer. A lot of reasons. A lot of things happening in my life. Motherhood, divorce, moving, work... Motherhood,” she said again with a laugh. “It just never happened.” She pulled her gaze from the scenery and looked at him again. “Have you ever been married?” He shook his head. “Long term relationship?”
“No.”
“I wasn't coming on to you last night.”
“Aye, I ken. I'd much rather you come on to me sober.”
A pregnant pause settled in the cab before they both laughed.
“Well, you don't have to worry about that,” she said. “I'm not looking to . . . hook up.”
His gaze remained on the road and she felt a subtle shift in his mood. “Seems we're at opposite ends of the spectrum then.”
Honest, she'd give him that. She got the feeling he was either trying to shock her or warn her off, like a shot fired across the bow. If she wanted to play in his sandbox, he was letting her know exactly who he was.
“You like being single,” she said.
His answer was an indecisive shrug, which didn't really answer the question at all.
Abbie returned to stare out the window, thinking of her personal life—or lack thereof—in the last four years. She'd had some interest, been asked out, even went on a few dates, but her heart hadn't been in the process or the man, and eventually she stopped going altogether.
“There it is,” Liam said as they crested the hill.
The ruins spread out below, situated by the loch and taking Abbie's breath away. Her chest went a little tight. Talk about picture perfect with its square tower and crumbling walls. It was history, romance, beauty, and sadness all rolled into one.
She'd read a little about its history in the brochure included in her welcome basket. It was the first MacLaren stronghold in these parts, and it was still in MacLaren hands.
“It's a good thing you left the bike behind,” Liam said as he navigated down the steep slope, avoiding the muddy ruts in the road.
“You're a MacLaren,” Abbie said, watching him.
“Aye.”
“How long has your family lived here?”
“Mine?' he asked, surprised.
“Yeah.”
He thought for a moment and gave a small shrug, eyes on the road. “Family has called Balmorie home since the sixteen hundreds.”
“So they're connected to the ruins?”
“Of course. My great grandfather many times over was brother to the laird. The castle,” he nodded toward the ruins, “has a fair interesting past.”
He didn't elaborate and her curiosity got the better of her. “Go on...”
“Well, let's see. There's been lost love, betrayal, murder, and—”
Ooh. “Murder.”
He chuckled. “Aye. A great, ghastly murder it was. Never solved. No one could figure out who kill the beautiful Lady Bree. Word has it she was bonny, kind, and well-loved by her clan.”
“What happened to her?”
Liam pulled off the road and parked the truck in the grass. “Pushed right off the tower. Some say she jumped because of a broken heart, but many dinna believe that theory since she was already hand-fasted to the man she loved.”
“And that's all anyone knows?”
With a nod, he turned off the truck and removed the key. The fact that his family had lived in the castle filled her with intrigue. To be able to trace your lineage back so far, to know your roots and to walk the same roads, see the same landscape as those before you was amazing. Of course—she thought with writer's glee—it could very well have been one of Liam's direct ancestors who pushed poor Bree off the tower.
The delicious feeling of mystery filled her, and she knew coming here for creative inspiration was the best idea she'd had in a long time.
As Abbie gathered her bag and slung the strap over her shoulder, Liam was already out of the truck and walking around to her door. He opened it for her and she hopped down.
“How's your foot?”
And like last night, Abbie found herself trapped between the truck and six-foot-three inches of hot Scottish Highlander.
And cue the butterflies.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she managed to answer, “Good.” And then, “I'm fine here by myself. I'm sure you have stuff to do, so...” With that, she moved away from the truck as Liam shut the door, then turned to face her, his eyes narrowing.
“I dinna have much to do today. Figured you might like a tour.” His gaze shifted to the stones. “That auld pile has many a tale to tell, and I ken them all.”
The small quirk of his lips made her wonder if he was playing her or, more specifically, playing on her interest in all things mysterious. Probably both. When the quirk drew into a crooked grin, she knew she had her answer. Her insides tingled and came alive. “Come on, Murphy,” he added. “I willna bite. Unless you want me to.”
Her eyes rolled and man she wanted to smile, to flirt, to throw her good sense right out the window and spend the day ogling him and the castle. He was so damn sexy standing there with his hands in his pockets grinning at her. When she didn't move, he walked past her, saying in a deep accent, “Allow me ta show ye my history.”
The whole deepening his accent thing was purely for her benefit. He probably knew it made the tourists swoon, and she had to wonder how many tourist notches he had on his bed post.
Abbie watched him stroll past her and onto the ruins. His gait was sure and easy, just as confident and bold as the the rest of him.
He was interested in her. Very interested. No man had looked at her like that in a long time. As much as she wanted to give in and engage in some wild, passionate fling, she wouldn't let it happen.
She'd stick to her guns.
Her father always said she was a hard nut to crack.
Abbie let out a snort at that. If only she'd been more discerning with her ex-husband, Jake... but then, she wouldn't have Logan. It was hard to regret letting Jake into her life when the result was her heart and soul. She regretted her marriage, for sure. The marriage had happened after, and to some extent because of her pregnancy. Had her eyes been open she would have seen it was doomed from the start. But she'd had so much hope that things would fall into place...
Something wonderful had come from being reckless. Her son.
But that didn't mean she was going to be reckless again. Once was enough. She could barely manage her life now.
With a sigh, she picked her way over a fallen chunk of stone and headed along the south facing wall. The castle had been built close to the loch. Too her, the location was perfect and beautiful. But to Liam, it was simply home, his turf, his past. She stopped at the edge of the wall and listened to the
water lap against the shore, imagining what it would have been like to stand on the ramparts hundreds of years ago.
Liam stood a few feet away, legs apart, gazing up at the tower, the breeze stirring his unruly hair. He looked every bit the Highlander of old, a tall able-bodied man with a smile that could melt snow. All he needed was a kilt and a sword.
Sensing her stare, he turned his head and, for a moment, she saw a different side of him reflected in the steady blue eyes. A quiet strength, a depth that spoke of life experiences and emotions that weren't all fun and games.