My shirt suddenly threatened to strangle me. I wanted to be completely, gloriously naked. Curling a hand behind his neck, I pulled him down to me. “Kiss me, Bryce. Kiss me.”
Adults sometimes forget the simple, adolescent pleasure of innocent lip-to-lip contact. First there was the feel Bryce’s mouth on mine. Then the sound of his unsteady breathing. And finally, the taste, the wonderful masculine taste of him, flavored with champagne and hunger.
I have no idea how long we kissed, but when we were done, the ridge beneath his trousers was enormous. Though we were in a secluded spot, anyone could drive up this hill. He shuddered against me, his body hot and wonderful. “I didn’t intend this, lass. You make me lose my head.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I muttered. “Please tell me you have protection with you.”
“Aye. That’s not a problem. But anyone with binoculars could spot us up here.”
I turned my head to survey our surroundings. Other than two small paddocks of sheep in the distance, I couldn’t see any immediate danger. Despite our seclusion, though, Bryce MacBrae was the Laird of Dunvarstone, a respected member of the community. I shouldn’t coax him into doing something he would later regret.
“I can wait,” I said, my lack of enthusiasm thinly veiled at best.
Bryce lifted my skirt and removed my undies. “Well, I can’t.” He unfastened his pants and took care of the condom. “You make me daft, lassie, half mad with wantin’ ye.”
He entered me with a firm thrust that sent me flying. It was even better than last night in my room. This was wild and spontaneous and driven by a dry-mouthed need that wracked us both. Beneath me the hard ground was an uncomfortable bed. I didn’t care.
The Bryce I thought I knew was different while making love. He lost some of his sophistication and polish. Beneath the veneer of landed gentry was a man like Jamie Fraser, a Scotsman who took what he wanted with confidence and gave a woman more pleasure than she could handle.
He was in turns fierce and gentle, disarming me completely. This was real. This was honest. It might be all I was to Bryce MacBrae. But it was something.
I felt myself nearing climax. I wanted to slow it down and to revel in the moment. “Wait,” I begged. “Not yet.”
My laird was deaf to my pleas. He rolled to his back, sparing me the sticks and stones that bruised me. Now I was on top, my shirt scrunched unattractively beneath my armpits. “Take it off,” I begged. Bryce knew immediately what I wanted.
In retrospect, I should have worried about how easily he undressed me. The man could give Houdini lessons on how to wrestle uncooperative clothing into submission. Now I was completely nude, and my lover was still unfortunately fully clothed, albeit disheveled.
I covered my breasts with my hands. Even on the edge of insanity, I had enough of my wits left to be mildly embarrassed.
Bryce, having accomplished his immediate mission of disrobing me, gripped my hips, his grin feral. “I fail to see why modesty is necessary at this juncture.”
I closed my eyes, barely breathing. If I concentrated, I was pretty sure I could come without any further help. “You know it makes me all tingly when you talk like a lord of the realm. I think you do it on purpose.”
His laugh was hoarse. “A man plays to his strengths, lass.” He pulled me down onto his chest. My head nestled in the crook of his neck. Bryce traced my spine with a single fingertip. “I’ve a mind not to let you go.”
I knew he was teasing, that he was referring to this moment in particular. But a great longing seized my heart. What if he meant forever?
With one arm around my waist to keep me from moving, Bryce thrust upward. The new position gave me the stimulation I needed. A jolt of lightning shot me over the top as he hammered into me and shouted his own release.
We dozed, I think. I’d never had a comfier bed. At last when I stirred, he held me close. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Are you worried your bum will get sunburned?”
I hadn’t been, but I was now. Come to think of it, that expanse of flesh had never been exposed to UV rays. I might be in for an uncomfortable night. “I should get dressed,” I muttered.
“What’s the rush?”
“I thought we had to be back by four.”
His muttered curse expressed the regret I felt. “You’re right. ’Twould have been damned embarrassing to have the lads show up and me not there.”
An entire work crew was coming in for the next several days to prepare the great hall in the closed-off portion of the castle for the upcoming ball. This afternoon, Bryce would go over the plan and the space with them inch by inch. After that, the workmen would hopefully turn a drafty room with stag heads and swords on the walls into a welcoming, festive event venue.
I had seen the room; they had their work cut out for them. The place was impressive. The table alone demanded respect. I didn’t get a cozy vibe when Bryce gave me the tour earlier. It would be interesting to see what professionals could come up with.
We didn’t talk much on the way home. I was painfully aware that my time in Scotland was winding down. Pretending a casual attitude I didn’t feel, I asked Bryce the question that had been on my lips all day. “Do you think you might ever visit me in Georgia?”
I thought at first he hadn’t heard me. His gaze never strayed from the road ahead. Finally, he sighed. “Do you want the truth or a polite lie?”
“The truth, please,” I said.
“It’s not likely, Willow. Not in the near future, at least. As long as my great-uncle is with us—and I’m not wishing him gone, mind you—I have to be here. The situation is too much for Abigail to handle on her own. Nor should she have to. I was the one who took the responsibility for Horatio.”
“Because he’s your grandfather’s brother?”
“Partly. But mostly because he never married nor had any children. The old man is alone in the world but for Abigail and me. I’d want someone to look out for me if I ever ended up in his situation.”
This was the second time he’d alluded to growing old alone. Had he really consigned himself to bachelorhood? Or was he more comfortable that way? Some men enjoyed sex but didn’t want to be tied down by marriage.
I dropped the subject. I don’t know why I was feeling melancholy. I’d known from the beginning that Bryce was a temporary fixture in my life. Or more correctly, I suppose, I was a blip in his.
This trip had surprised me in many ways, not the least of which was the fact that I didn’t find myself thinking about work every moment of every day. I hoped things were going well back home. I was grateful to know that my employees were more than capable of running the place without me for a few weeks.
Yet somehow, I felt disconnected. In a good way. For the past six years I’d worked so hard to make the salon a success, I’d begun to measure my own worth by how well my business was succeeding. I’d put in long days, determined to prove to myself that I was not my mother.
Now, with the perspective of several thousand miles between me and Hair Essentials, I suddenly understood that the shop wasn’t all there was to me. I was more than just a small business owner. I was a woman and a friend and a daughter and surprisingly, an adventurous spirit.
It seemed ludicrous now that I had been so reluctant to spend money for this journey. Being in the Highlands was an experience I would never forget.
This time with Bryce had shown me that the world was a big, diverse, fascinating place. Maybe I would never make it back to Scotland, but there were other corners of the globe to explore.
Unfortunately for me, none of those far-flung spots was home to the laird of Dunvarstone.
We were almost back to the castle when he reached out and took my hand. “You okay, lass?” he asked, shooting me a sideways glance.
“Of course.” I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. “Thank you for taking me to Culloden today.”
He squeezed my fi
ngers. “The battlefield is a special place, but I’m finding myself partial to a wee hilltop where I entertained a wood sprite.”
“Wood sprite?” I laughed.
“Your parents named you well, Willow. You’re beautiful and strong and graceful. A man could lose himself in your embrace.”
I was hard pressed to come up with a response to that. Struck dumb by his lovely compliment, I spent the remainder of the trip in silence, a smile on my face.
Chapter 23
Abigail met us as we arrived. She had recently returned from town, and while we were saying our hellos, four trucks pulled up with a phalanx of workers. I read the frustration on Bryce’s face, though he hid it well. Our beautiful morning and afternoon had come to an abrupt end.
It was time for the laird to pick up his yoke.
Abby’s presence necessitated decorum. Bryce wouldn’t want his sister to get any ideas. His attraction to me was on a need-to-know basis.
Though the day felt flat now, I did my best to appear cheerful in front of Abby. She was practically bubbly. It did my heart good to see her so happy.
We headed for the kitchen where Mrs. Argyle had made blueberry scones and a fresh pot of tea. “What about Bryce?” I asked.
Abby shrugged. “He’ll get some eventually.” She perched on the countertop and swung her legs. “Would you cut my hair tonight?”
She had long, beautiful auburn waves that reached several inches past her shoulders. “I’d be happy to…but why now? You usually put it up in a ponytail.”
“I’m ready for a change, I guess. I haven’t let anyone cut it since…” She stopped, and her eyes glistened with tears. “Well, you know.”
“Since your husband died.”
She grimaced. “Yes. He loved my hair long.”
“So is this a beauty decision or some kind of declaration?”
“Can’t it be both?” Despite the tears, I saw that she had found a measure of contentment and peace. It was a positive step and one I hoped Bryce would recognize as proof that his little sister was a mature, competent woman.
“Of course,” I said. “How about right after dinner? We can take a stool out into the garden so we don’t make a mess.”
“Bryce needs a haircut, too. You know, before the ball.”
“Well, that’s up to him,” I said, my cheeks growing hot as I imagined being so close to him again. Maybe even with his sister watching.
Abby was oblivious to my discomfiture. She chattered away about her day and never even remembered to ask me about Culloden. Which was fine with me, because I’m not sure I could have expressed what I felt about seeing the somber ground where so many clansmen had perished.
Eventually, her excited monologue wound down. The housekeeper’s back was turned toward us. Abigail cocked her head and put a finger to her lips indicating for me to follow her. When we made it to a narrow corridor out of earshot, I lifted my hands. “What’s the big secret?”
For the first time, Abby seemed hesitant. “I’m going to talk to Bryce about something important at dinner tonight.”
“I’d be happy to take a plate to my room,” I said. “No worries.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s not what I meant at all. I need you there as a neutral third party. Bryce won’t yell and pontificate if you’re listening.”
“Bryce yells?” I found that hard to believe.
“Well, not exactly. When he disapproves of something he gets this steely-eyed glare that sends ice cubes down my spine. He’s so accustomed to looking out for me, he thinks he knows best. And he’s been wonderful to me, far better than I deserve.”
“But?” I knew there was a but coming.
“I’m thirty-one years old, only a year younger than you. I’m capable of making my own decisions.”
“Maybe you should run it by me first,” I said.
“No.” Her expression was mulish. “It’s nothing bad, I promise. Just tell me you won’t side with him if there’s an argument.”
“This is a lose-lose situation for me,” I said. “I can guarantee I’m going to stay out of any confrontation between you and your brother. But yes. I’ll be there physically to give you moral support…for what it’s worth.”
She threw her arms around me and hugged me. “Thank you, Willow. I knew I could count on you.”
That was stretching things a bit, but if my presence gave her confidence, who was I to say no? I returned the hug. “I think I’ll take a shower before dinner.” I felt distinctly grubby. Rolling around on a grassy hilltop might sound romantic, but I was itchy from the sun and the wool and the lunchtime crumbs.
As I was about to walk away, Abby got an odd look on her face. “Willow?” she said.
“Hmm?” I was already thinking about what to wear to dinner. Maybe I should break down and buy a new outfit or two. I hadn’t planned on an extended stay at a Scottish country home when I packed so lightly.
“It’s okay with me,” she said. “If you and Bryce, well, you know…”
I stared at her blankly. “If Bryce and I what?”
Her face turned red. “He works so hard and he never takes time for himself. I think it’s great if you…”
“That’s twice you’ve trailed off,” I said, honestly in the dark. Maybe she was giving me carte blanche to have Bryce as my tour guide instead of her.
She bit her lip, her jaw outthrust. “If the two of you want to be intimate, I give you my blessing.”
I gaped. Instead of blushing, every drop of blood rushed from my head to my feet. I felt dizzy and appalled. “You heard us?” I whispered, more embarrassed than I had ever been in my life.
She frowned. “Heard you when?”
“Um, talking to each other?” I backpedaled rapidly. If she wasn’t referring to last night, what did she mean?
“If you don’t have a scarf, I can loan you one. So no one will know.”
“Know what?” Had I lost my mind? This conversation was bizarre, but I didn’t have a clue why.
Abby winced and reached out a hand to touch my neck just above my collarbone. “You have a hickey,” she said. “It’s hard to miss.”
I prepared for dinner feeling like a woman with a scarlet A on my chest. Nothing like a love bite to shout to the world that the sexy laird and his American houseguest had been up to no good.
Thank God Abby had noticed and offered a wardrobe solution. No amount of makeup would have covered up the small reddish bruise. I couldn’t decide if I was more mortified or smug. My teenage years hadn’t been all that reckless. It seemed I was making up for lost time.
Horatio was the first one in the dining room. I joined him and exchanged a few pleasantries about the weather. He had not suffered any lasting damage from his late-night excursion, though I still felt bad that it had occurred when Bryce was out with me.
I pulled my chair closer to Horatio’s and tried to make small talk. He was hard of hearing, so the task was arduous. “Where were you born, Mr. MacBrae? Here in the castle?”
“Aye. I was fifth in a string of wild bairns.”
“Wild?”
“Dunvarstone was a brilliant life for a child. The heathered hills to range up and over. Creeks for fishing. A huge castle to play hide and seek. Och, it was grand. Except for the occasional winter storm that kept us in for days, we were free as birds, free to come and go as we pleased. Our parents didn’t hover the way today’s young folk do.”
“And school?”
He waved a hand dismissively. “We had a tutor. He was a timid sort. ’Twas not hard to elude him. Fortunately, we were all fairly bright, or I suppose we’d have been sent down when we finally got to university.”
“You must have many good memories.”
His bushy eyebrows beetled as he wiped his nose with a handkerchief. “Aye. That’s the blessing and the curse of being an old man.”
“Do Bryce and Abigail have cousins?”
He shook his head. “Nay. Some say the MacBraes were cursed. I was the only one of
my generation who lived past forty.”
Bryce walked into the room. He kissed his uncle’s head. “We’re not cursed, Uncle. Unlucky, maybe, but not cursed.”
Horatio frowned at him. “Sounds like the same thing t’ me.”
Fortunately, Abby joined us, too, and the argument derailed. Horatio enjoyed his food. Once dinner was served, he fell silent, content to eat without comment.
Abby seemed particularly quiet for a change. Bryce had told me more than once that she’d blossomed having me to spend time with. Tonight, however, she was definitely subdued.
With two of the four disinclined to talk, it was up to Bryce and me to carry the conversation. Mrs. Argyle served a clear consommé followed by braised chicken breasts with orange sauce.
I swallowed a bite and tried to pretend I wasn’t imagining the laird naked. “Abby has asked me to cut her hair after dinner,” I said. “I’d be happy to do yours as well.”
His smile was rueful. “I’m shaggy, I know. That would be nice, Willow.”
The way he said my name made everything inside me go soft. What was supposed to be a matter-of-fact statement sounded like a verbal caress to my ears.
Abby’s head was bent, all her attention focused on the chicken. “Didn’t you want to tell Bryce something?” I asked. Maybe she was finding it difficult to bring up the topic. I was happy to be her wingman.
Unfortunately, she blanched, her expression hunted.
Bryce smiled. “What’s up, lass?”
The atmosphere was strained, and I didn’t even know what I had done.
Abigail cleared her throat. “I went to the dentist in Inverness today.”
“Aye. You told me. Did the man give you a lollipop for having no cavities?”
“I don’t think they do that anymore,” I muttered. Or maybe they did in Scotland. Who knew?
“The check-up was fine,” Abby said. She sat up, her spine straight. Her eyes were bright with excitement, though she seemed braced for something. “The office next door had an advertisement in the window.”
I loved how she said that…ad-ver-tiz-ment, emphasis on the ver. So very British Isles.
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