Confused, I cocked my head and frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, lass, usually he brings me dead rabbits or birds. You’re the first prize he’s tracked down that I ever wanted to keep.”
His humor relaxed me. Somewhat. Unfortunately, Bryce himself gave me heart palpitations. The man hadn’t bothered to wear anything but silk pajama pants, navy with a gold paisley print. They did little to disguise his more intimate parts.
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “You’re the first man who’s ever compared me to roadkill.”
“Hunting trophies,” he said with a smile. “There’s a difference.”
“Ah. Thanks for the clarification.” His broad, muscled chest was a thing of beauty. He had just the right amount of hair, not waxed-bare like a twenty-something model in a catalog but not Bigfoot either.
He looked like a man. A very masculine, mouth-watering man.
Bryce took my hands in his. “You’re nervous.”
It wasn’t a question.
I nodded. “Yes. I feel as if I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole. Do you know that expression?”
“Aye. I do. Is Scotland so verra different then? Do you not feel at home here?” He stroked my arms as he spoke, warming my skin.
How to answer that? “It’s different, yes. Where I live is a big city. It’s loud and busy and full of energy. I love it. It’s home. But here…” I waved a hand, at a loss for words.
“Ye’re bored? Too much rural life for a city mouse?”
“No, no. That’s not it at all. I adore everything about this place. The light. The mercurial weather. Your spooky castle.”
“Spooky?” He was mildly offended.
“We’ll get to that later. I’m trying to tell you how I feel.”
“So tell me.”
I lifted a shoulder. “One of the things my friends and I wanted to do when we came to Scotland was to immerse ourselves in a place. To learn a different rhythm of life. To stretch our boundaries.”
“And?”
“And I ended up with you. How is that possible?”
He put his hands at the back of my neck and used his thumbs to tip up my chin. “Scotland is magical. Dinna you know that, Willow? Even the very rocks themselves are alive.”
I shivered hard. Unlike Claire Randall in Outlander, I hadn’t been thrust through a rip in time via a stone circle, but the outcome was much the same. I was living a life that was not my own. Would I ever be able to get back to twenty-first-century Georgia? Did I even want to?
I leaned into him, sighing deeply when he pulled me close. “Make love to me, Bryce.”
“’Twould be my pleasure.”
He undressed me slowly, peeling my top up over my head and tossing it aside. I knew I was flat-chested, but when Bryce caressed my small breasts, the hunger and excitement on his face bolstered my confidence. My knees were wobbly when he finally got around to removing the last of my clothes.
Naked and awash in gooseflesh, I rallied my scattered thoughts and concentrated on hooking my thumbs in Bryce’s pajama bottoms and dragging them down his legs. On the way to his ankles, I got my first good look at his erection. It was hard to miss.
He’d been standing patiently as I did my part, but now he kicked free of the navy silk and scooped me up to take the three steps to my bed. I had already turned back the covers. The small lamp on the bedside table beamed too brightly. When Bryce deposited me on the mattress, I reached to extinguish the light.
“Leave it,” he said gruffly. “I want to see you.”
He came down beside me and reclined on one elbow. Idly, he played with my nipple. “That tickles,” I complained, the words weak and shaky.
“Sorry.” He leaned over and suckled my breast. Fire shot through my pelvis. I arched my back with a choked cry. “Bryce…” The single word trailed off into a moan.
I lost track of time. I had dreamed of handsome Scotsmen in the weeks before crossing the Atlantic. This was so much better. The sounds and scents and tactile pleasures were all too real. Bryce was insatiable. There wasn’t an inch of my body he didn’t explore, sometimes more than once.
I was breathless and painfully aroused when he finally reached for protection and moved between my legs.
“Open for me, beautiful Willow.” The honeyed words with the accent that was becoming as familiar to me as my own, demanded my compliance. I spread my thighs. Bryce touched me lightly, testing my readiness. I was mortifyingly slick with arousal.
With a steady push, he entered me, going deep. I wouldn’t have been surprised to the see a flash of lightning or hear the crash of thunder. If this was magic, I was a believer.
Panic grabbed me suddenly as I felt everything I knew about myself shift and change. Our joining was more than an impulsive sexual frolic. Bryce was staking a claim.
My ankles linked behind his back as he drove deeper. The bed shook, but the stone walls of the castle preserved our secrets. Dizzy and aching with pleasure, I imagined all the lairds and ladies who had coupled beneath this roof. I was suddenly part of something larger than me or my workaday life. In the midst of a dream, perhaps.
If I could have pinched myself, I would have. My fingers dug into Bryce’s shoulders. He was hot, his skin damp with perspiration. Though he was careful not to hurt me, he was a big man, big enough to make a tall woman feel both dominated and cherished. His body pressed mine into the mattress. I might have stopped him with a single word, but I was long past having second thoughts.
I felt my orgasm rise and swell. Bryce went rigid and groaned. Seconds later I cried out and fell into the abyss with my Scottish lover.
Chapter 19
Bryce woke me up sometime after three and made love to me again. This round was less desperate, more erotic. He teased me and laughed huskily when I protested. “Your body is a wonder, Willow. Ye’re as supple as your namesake and as soft as the clouds outside my window. I may never leave this bed.”
Though I was charmed by the compliment, I had a practical streak a mile wide. “Morning always comes,” I reminded him, “no matter how much we want to hang onto the dream.” I don’t know if I was asking for reassurance from him or warning myself not to get too wrapped up in the fantasy.
“’Tis no dream,” he said, his body moving lazily against mine.
My muscles were lax with pleasure and warm with sleep. When Bryce lifted one of my legs onto his shoulder, I shuddered. Open and without defense, I was cajoled into trusting him completely.
He stroked inside me with exquisite languor. After a time, he withdrew and moved lower in the bed. I wasn’t prepared for the light touch of his tongue. He was diabolically inventive and disturbingly talented. I hit the peak so hard and fast I lost my breath. It didn’t help that my tormentor chuckled aloud with masculine smugness. Damn the man. Did he have to be good at everything?
While I was still gasping for air, he entered me again and picked up the pace. The aftermath of my climax sparked to life as Bryce possessed me completely. He was determined and dominant and out of control. I loved it.
He shouted and buried his face in the side of my neck as his body shuddered and quaked. I stroked his hair. “You okay?” I asked when he hadn’t moved for several minutes.
“Aye.” The word was muffled and less than believable.
I knew sex was just sex. I was past the age of romanticizing physical encounters. In fact, I had decided long ago that the morning-afters weren’t worth the fleeting release. Thus the dismal state of my dating life in general.
Bryce’s weight on top of me was nice. I felt as if I could float up to the ceiling, but he pinned me down. We had each rested enough that we had trouble falling asleep again. I knew Bryce was awake from the sound of his breathing. I toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. “You need a haircut,” I said lightly.
“Good thing I have my own in-house barber,” he mumbled.
When I thought about cutting his hair, my pulse ratcheted up. I’d given haircuts to hundre
ds of men over the years. But Bryce? Even the thought of it made me quivery.
I was startled when he rolled to his back and slung an arm over his eyes. “Tell me about your childhood,” he said.
I winced inwardly. “It’s no charming Scottish folktale.”
“Willow…” I heard the warning in his voice. He wasn’t going to let me off with a flip answer.
Well, crap. “It started out okay,” I said, editing in my brain as I went along. “But after my father left, and we lost the house, I didn’t like moving from place to place. Even though we had a roof over our head and a bed to sleep in, I didn’t have a home. Not like this.”
“No castles in Georgia?” he queried.
“It’s not just the stones and mortar,” I said. “You belong here. You can trace your lineage for hundreds of years. This land and this place are part of who you are. I envy that.”
“’Tis true. I can’t imagine my life without Dunvarstone. Though there are days when I would gladly walk away and never look back.”
“We slept in our car one week.” I blurted it out, ashamed even now, years later.
I felt him flinch as he gathered me close. “You poor bairn. It must have been so frightening.”
I let him comfort me, simply because it felt so good to be held. “It was. I was afraid to fall asleep, terrified we would be robbed. Occasionally the police knocked on the window and told us to move along.” Even now the memory hurt my stomach.
“Your mother must have been scared as well.”
“I’m sure she was. But she was the adult. I was the kid. I swore that when I got out on my own in the world I would never lean on a man to the point I couldn’t take care of myself.”
“So you turned yourself into a responsible business owner.”
“I tried.”
“I’m guessing it was hard to get away for this trip.”
“Yes. But it’s been worth it.” I paused. “You have a lot of responsibility, too.” Duh, Willow.
His chest rose and fell. “I don’t mind it so much. At least not usually. I wish I could woo you as I want to. We’re always going to be stumbling over dogs and relatives and my obligations.”
“You want to woo me?” Perhaps it meant something different in the Scottish vernacular.
He turned his head and stared at me. I’d left a nightlight burning in the bathroom, so I could barely make out his features. “Isn’t it obvious?”
I shook my head, tugging the sheet up over my shoulder. “No. Not at all. I thought this was about us enjoying each other while I’m here. We can’t make rash decisions based on hormones.”
“I’m a grown man, Willow. With a complicated life. I’m accustomed to denying myself in a great many situations, but this is no longer one of them. I want to make love to you whenever and however often we can manage it. And I’d prefer to think of it as more than a one-night stand. I’ve had my share of those. They leave a bitter taste in my mouth.”
It was quite a speech. I would have enjoyed it if I hadn’t been both shocked and dismayed. I didn’t want Bryce to make this real. I could enjoy a fantasy and go home to my routine life at the end of the month. If he used words like woo and making love, I was apt to do something stupid like tumbling headlong into a serious relationship with the laird of Dunvarstone.
The room fell silent after that. Maybe because I never responded to Bryce’s declaration. Did I want him to woo me? Of course I did. I wasn’t made of stone. But the idea of being so vulnerable was terrifying.
I kept my breathing steady, hoping he would think I had fallen asleep. My head was fuzzy. All I wanted to do was soak up the sensation of lying in Bryce MacBrae’s arms. Cozy. Warm. Safe.
It was the best of all worlds.
* * *
When I woke up the next morning, Bryce’s side of the bed was empty. I wasn’t too worried about his absence. I knew instinctively that he wouldn’t want Abigail to see him playing musical bedrooms.
Truthfully, I was relieved he had gone back to his suite before daybreak. I needed some mental space to decide how to handle him. Even the concept of handling a man like Bryce was laughable. He was not a callow youth easily manipulated with sex and empty promises.
I made it down to breakfast on time, but I felt awkward and tense. You’d think several amazing orgasms would have mellowed me out. Sadly, as good as the sex had been, it had raised more questions than it answered.
Abigail was animated, practically bubbly, as she described the basic Outlander plot to her brother. He listened with half an ear, his attention also on his uncle, who was as lethargic as Abby was energetic. The old man seemed to be fading day by day.
When the professional attendant came to take Horatio back to his suite for physical therapy, Bryce, Abby and I finished our eggs and toast and lingered over cups of hot tea. Abby didn’t appear to notice anything different about me this morning. I kept my attention fixed on her and not Bryce.
Every time he caught my eye, I felt my face get hot. It was difficult, if not impossible, to pretend we hadn’t been intimate the night before.
Bryce stared at me over the rim of his beautiful china cup. His hand looked large and masculine in comparison to the fragile dishware. “So tell me, Willow. How did you manage to walk away from your business for an entire month? You must have a phenomenal staff.”
I nodded, feeling myself relax. I was passionate about my hair salon. I could talk about it at length. “I definitely do. We have four stylists other than me. They agreed to divide up my clients while I’m gone.”
Abby snagged the last piece of bacon. “But what about bills and paperwork?”
“My business partner handles all that. When we opened the shop five years ago, I didn’t have the money for my share, but I applied for a small business loan. Evelyn came up with her half, and we signed the mortgage. I’m responsible for the day-to-day operation of the shop. Appointments, ordering supplies, overseeing employees, including janitorial and a part-time tech person who keeps our Internet running.”
I didn’t tell her that Evelyn and I weren’t on the same page when it came to Hair Essentials. There would be time enough when I got back home to correct what I had come to believe was a mistake. I had wanted so badly to open the shop that I let myself be talked into taking on a partner I barely knew. Evelyn was a friend of a friend, but our approach to the business was more and more out of sync.
“Could you teach me how to cut hair?” Abby asked impulsively. I noticed that her attention tended to flit from one thing to another. She was easily distracted. But cutting hair was a good life skill. “Of course,” I said. “I find it therapeutic, to be honest. There’s a great deal of satisfaction in helping people—women especially—look their best.”
Bryce had found something of interest on his iPad and was reading an article. It occurred to me that the no-technology pact I had with my friends meant I was sheltered from the constant barrage of news. Although not entirely a bad thing, I was not the type to stick my head in the sand. I felt vaguely guilty that I wasn’t as informed as usual about current events.
Abby reached across the table and touched her brother’s arm. “May I tell her about the ball?”
Bryce grinned. “Be my guest.”
“Ball?” My ears perked up.
“I looked at your calendar, Willow. You’ll still be here. I need you for moral support. I haven’t attended since my husband died.”
“Ball?” I said again. I needed more tactical info.
Bryce shook his head, noting his sister’s flustered excitement. “It’s a party we throw here at Dunvarstone every other year for charity. All our friends and neighbors for miles around are invited. This year we’ll be supporting a children’s home, a cancer hospital, and a group that works to preserve the Highlands.”
Abby interrupted to give her pitch. “It’s an amazing night. The men wear formal kilts and the women are in evening attire. Oh, Willow. You’ll love it. It’s a thoroughly Scottish evening. First a sit-
down dinner, and then dancing until the wee hours. Please say you’ll stay for it.”
“Of course she will,” Bryce said. “She’s going to attend as my date.”
Chapter 20
Shock flashed across Abby’s face. She glanced at me as if expecting to hear a denial.
“It’s true,” I said, playing along, although the wily man had never said a word about it. “Bryce has been kind enough to invite me to be an honorary part of the family. At least for this month.” I added that last bit in case he had any ridiculous ideas about the future.
Something of the strained atmosphere between me and my Scottish lover must have been evident to Abby, because her eyes widened and she stared from one of us to the other. “Well, that’s brilliant,” she said. “There’s a lady in Inverness, Willow, who can whip up a gown in no time. And she’s very reasonable.”
Bryce frowned. “Willow’s dress will be my gift. We don’t need to skimp. The Dunvarstone Charity Ball is a night to remember.”
I didn’t argue, but there no way I was going to let a man buy me a party dress. Especially not when I was eating his food and sleeping in his house. I had to draw the line somewhere.
“Where are we off to today, Abby?” I asked, desperate to shift the conversation to less-personal topics.
She gave me an apologetic smile. “I have a dental appointment. Bryce has promised to take you to Culloden. It’s cloudy out, but there’s no rain in the forecast.”
“I see.” I looked at the man who had spent most of the night in my bed. “Do I get a vote?”
“You’ve let Abby schedule your days up until now. I assumed you’d grant me the same privilege.” His eyes dared me to protest.
I wanted to go to Culloden. I even wanted to go with Bryce. However, to make this trip on the heels of what happened last night made me uneasy. I didn’t know how to act around him now.
“What time should I be ready?” I asked, not willing to make a fuss in front of Abigail.
“How about ten? I’ve asked Bibi to prepare a picnic basket for us.” His gaze held mine for several long seconds. Abby’s attention was on Brodie as she fed him scraps under the table, much to her brother’s disapproval.
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