Bryce wasn’t impressed. “What kind of advertisement?”
Abigail clasped her hands in front of her on the table. “’Twas a solicitor’s office. The receptionist is going on leave to have a baby. They need a temp. And I have all the necessary skills.”
Bryce’s expression was hard to read. I suspected he thought of Abigail as wounded. He loved his sister. He cleared his throat. “You know I would do anything for you, Abby. I’ve tried not to push you, because people grieve in their own way and their own time. But…”
She leaned forward. “But what?”
He lifted his shoulders and let them fall. “This seems a little impulsive.”
Abigail looked at me. “Willow and her friends traveled partway around the world for a grand adventure. All I’m proposing is to drive into Inverness.”
I gave her an encouraging smile and then promptly felt like a traitor when Bryce stared at me, clearly trying to decide if I was responsible for this dramatic shift.
Abby reached across the table and took her brother’s hand. “Please, Bryce. It’s not a permanent job. But I think it’s time for me to break out of the cocoon.”
“Dunvarstone isn’t exactly a prison.” Bryce’s wry sarcasm hit its mark.
“Oh, don’t be mad.” Her eyes welled with tears until her brother rounded the table and put his hands on her shoulders.
“I’m not mad, Abigail. Never. If this is what you want, I’ll support you.”
She jumped up to hug him. Horatio had nodded off. I felt like an intruder. This was a family moment, between brother and sister.
Carefully, I slid out of my chair and inched toward the door.
Bryce, his back to me, stopped me in my tracks. “Not so fast, Willow.”
I turned around. “I thought you two needed some alone time. I shouldn’t be here.”
“Nonsense. We’re about to toast my little sister’s job prospects.”
Abigail laughed nervously. “You’re right. I don’t actually have the position yet.”
“But you will,” I said. “Who could say no to a MacBrae?”
* * *
Bryce gave me hell for that remark later. We were in the garden, and the light was fading slowly. I had already cut Abby’s hair. She was delighted with her new look. Although she asked for chin length, I had convinced her to start with just-above-the-shoulders. If possible, I steered customers away from making sweeping changes all at once, especially ones that were irreversible.
Now it was Bryce’s turn. He sat on the stool in front of me. “I heard what you said earlier, Willow. Were you insinuating that I pressured you into having sex? You can say no to me anytime you want.”
“It was a joke,” I said. “Surely you’ve figured out by now that I’m a smart-ass.”
He scrunched up his face in distaste. “American slang is so blunt.”
“Sorry.” I tapped his shoulders. “Be still. Otherwise you’re going to end up with a lopsided haircut.”
He didn’t say anything else. I was glad. It took all my concentration to do the job I had been trained to do. I slid my fingers through Bryce’s hair, lifting a section at a time and snipping the ends. While in Inverness today, Abby had shopped around and purchased a high-quality pair of scissors and an electric shaver, the kind a barber uses. That was how I knew for sure she was serious about the haircut.
I had already used the shaver to clean up the laird’s neckline. Now I was thinning out his thick, chestnut hair. It had a slight wave to it that was more pronounced because of the length. I could tell the original cut was a good one, but he was probably a month overdue.
Bryce sat, unmoving. I worked as quickly as I could. Being so close to him and not able to touch him the way I wanted to brought home how deeply I was enmeshed in this infatuation.
“What’s wrong, Willow?”
I hated the way he could read me so easily, even with his back turned. “Nothing. I know you mentioned a walk later. But Abby wants to watch Outlander again tonight. I’ve created a monster.”
“It’s good to see her so interested in something…anything. I’ve wondered sometimes if this day would ever come.”
“She’s lucky to have you in her life. You offered stability and love when her world fell apart.”
“I couldn’t bring him back.”
“No.” The sudden stab of grief caught me off guard. Once I boarded a plane and put an ocean between Bryce and me, he might as well be dead. I love him. The knowledge struck me like a physical blow. It was inevitable, I suppose. But he was never going to be mine.
He cared for so many people—his uncle, his sister, friends in need, the estate his father had dumped on him, and now, even me. But who was there to look after Bryce?
If Abby took the temp job, it would be only the beginning. I was sure Bryce realized it, too. Eventually she would find a permanent position. She would make new friends. Meet a man. Fall in love. Get married. Move out of the castle.
Since Horatio was living on borrowed time, there would come a day in the near future when Bryce would be all alone. He would finally be free to meet someone and possibly get married at last. The thought of it pained me, particularly since I wouldn’t be the one to share his bed. Or maybe he’d be too set in his ways by then and not want any woman to clutter up his life.
As I finished the haircut, I realized my hands were shaking. I’d never had a panic attack, but I suspected I was in the midst of one. I’d embroiled myself in a hell of a situation. Somehow Scotland had made me vulnerable. Otherwise, why would I have let down my guard so easily with Bryce…and even with his family?
The Willow Ryman who lived in Georgia and owned a modestly successful hair salon was not a warm, fuzzy woman. She was tart and self-reliant and kept emotional boundaries firmly in place.
There was a reason for that. Love hurt, damn it.
I set the scissors and shaver on a nearby wall and brushed my hands together to get rid of the loose hair. With a careful motion, I removed the towel that protected Bryce’s shirt. “All done,” I said, my tone falsely bright.
He stood up and adjusted his collar. “Thank you, Willow.”
I shrugged. “It’s the least I could do.”
“We could take that walk now.” His tone was low and intimate. “Before my sister drags you away.”
When he reached for me, I backed away instinctively.
He froze. “Willow?”
“I’m sorry.”
“What’s going on, lass?” He should have been angry. My behavior could certainly be classified as erratic. Instead, his gaze was filled with concern.
The knot in my chest made it hard to speak. Or to breathe. “I think you may have been right, Bryce.”
A line appeared between his eyebrows. “Ye’ve lost me, woman. Right about what?”
“About us being only friends.”
He tensed. Visibly. “I thought we agreed that I was an ass, and wrong to boot. Did I hurt you somehow, Willow? Tell me what’s going on.”
All I wanted to do was huddle in my bed with the covers over my head and cry. But that wasn’t an option. At least not for a few hours.
I saw him reach for me again and then stop himself. That hurt. A lot. I’d made him afraid to touch me.
“It’s not you,” I said. “It’s me.”
For the first time in our relationship, I saw bitterness in his expression. “Do me the courtesy of shooting straight. You don’t need to lie to me.”
“I think I should move out of the castle,” I blurted. The pain in my chest was literally breathtaking.
His eyes widened in shock before every bit of expression on his face was wiped clean. “This seems rather sudden. Particularly since at lunchtime today you were riding me bare-bummed.”
“Now who’s being crass?” Tears burned my eyes. I had botched this badly. “I can’t do this, Bryce. I thought I could, but I can’t. It’s too much, too fast. I don’t trust myself.”
“Or you don’t trust me.” He sa
id it flatly. Without inflection. But for a split second, I saw what looked like raw torment in his gaze.
Chapter 24
“That’s not true,” I said. “You have to believe me.”
“Then what’s the explanation?” He crossed his arms over his chest, staring at me as if we had never been naked together, had never made each other laugh and groan and come apart at the seams.
I don’t want you to break my heart. But I couldn’t say that out loud. He wouldn’t understand. Bryce MacBrae was old enough to have had several relationships with women. He’d never shown any inclination toward marriage or settling down to create a family of his own.
In fact, even in the brief time I had known him, he had made more than one reference to being a beloved uncle. But not a husband. Not a father.
Perhaps maintaining Dunvarstone was too much of a burden for him to add other responsibilities. Like keeping a wife happy. Or bonding with a child.
I was deeply afraid that all Bryce wanted from me was sex. I wasn’t strong enough emotionally to give him that and then calmly walk away. It was better to make the break now before I let him see how much the fantasy romance between the sexy Scottish laird and the unsophisticated American had become real to me.
How could I explain so that he would understand? How could I keep my secret?
As I searched for a plausible lie, Bryce muttered an oath beneath his breath. “Forget it, Willow. The reason doesn’t matter. I’ll leave you alone. For Abigail’s benefit, please don’t move out. There no’ much left of your vacation. Stay ‘til the end. She’s so happy. Whatever your feelings about me, don’t make my sister suffer.”
He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me alone in the beautiful garden. I was a wretched failure as a human being. Bryce had looked at me with such disdain, I felt bruised in spirit. I owed the young Spanish bride I’d met at the hostel an apology. Turns out, a heart can indeed break.
* * *
I fumbled my way through the next week like a zombie. But a zombie with phenomenal acting skills. Only someone who knew me extremely well would have been able to see my misery.
Abby and I were inseparable. In the evenings, we watched episodes of Outlander, the first season, all the way to the end. We spent endless hours discussing the plot and the swoon-worthy factor of Jamie Fraser.
By day, she took me anywhere and everywhere I wanted to go. I became a seasoned tourist, somewhat of an expert on this particular area of the Highlands. In between excursions, we prepared for the ball.
Long before I arrived at Dunvarstone, Abigail had contracted with a young, up-and-coming English designer to create a gown for the charity event. Clearly this was an expensive dress, because the woman actually travelled to Inverness for the final fitting. The creation was stunning. Grecian in design, the moss-green satin with a gold lace overlay flattered Abby’s skin tone and hair color.
The closer we moved toward the night of the ball, the more nervous Abby became. I suspected it was the prospect of being with her peers again. I knew they would have nothing to criticize, but I understood.
Abby already knew she had the receptionist job she wanted. In fact, she would be starting work three days before I left for London. I decided I would find a hotel in Inverness for those last few nights. I couldn’t stay at the castle without Abby as a buffer. She would be home every evening, but that wasn’t enough.
It took a lot of arguing back and forth to convince Abby that not only would I not let Bryce pay for a dress for me to wear to the ball, but that I would buy something off the rack. I couldn’t imagine the recommended dressmaker’s rates were anything I could afford.
Nevertheless, since department stores were not thick on the ground, I at last agreed to meet with the seamstress. She was a sturdy Scottish mother of four who helped support her family with a career that allowed her to work from home. I liked her immediately.
Abby had errands to run, so she left me with Mrs. Duff. Once it was just the two of us, Mrs. Duff looked me up and down. “Ye’re a tall one, lass.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I resisted the urge to apologize.
“Not to worry. A woman of your shape dresses well. I’ve pattern books here. Why don’t you flip through a few and let me know your tastes. After that, I’ll show you fabric samples.”
“Before we start,” I said, “I need to ask about the cost. I’m on a budget.”
She eyed me strangely. “I had a call from Mr. MacBrae. He said ’twas his intention to cover this order, you being a friend of the family and all.”
I did my best not to blush. “It’s very kind of him, but I’m accustomed to paying my own way. So you and I will need to settle on your fee and the price of the materials before we proceed.”
Luckily for me, Mrs. Duff was a practical sort. “Aye. I’ll make up an estimate before you leave.”
“Thank you.”
The whole process turned out to be more enjoyable than I had imagined. I didn’t go to my prom. There had been no one I wanted to go with and no money for a dress. Despite my strained relationship with Bryce, I was very excited about the charity ball. It would be a wonderful way to finish out my Scottish adventure.
In the end, I let myself be guided by Mrs. Duff’s expertise. I selected half a dozen possible patterns. She ruled out four of them. We discussed the pros and cons of the final two and settled on a design that was both elegant and sexy. And also intimidating. It was the kind of dress that required panache from the wearer. I hoped I had it in me to pull it off.
“The cut of the bodice will flatter your bosom,” she said. “But you’re small enough on top you won’t have to worry about a bra.”
I’d actually seen something very similar on the red carpet at a Hollywood awards show. The front dipped only slightly less than the back. No sleeves either. A lot of bare real estate. The fitted waist flared into a slender column of swishy silk.
“But what about color?” I asked. “I want to fit in. Will most of the guests be in black and white?” I knew Abigail’s dress was a gorgeous green, but she was the hostess.
“If this were a mid-winter event, maybe so. But for a summer affair, I’d wager most of the ladies will opt for color. I’m thinking red for you.”
Red? I was more of the wallflower type. Red was a color that drew attention. “How about navy?” I said. “Or cream.”
“The red will be brilliant with your dark hair and pale skin. Trust me, lassie.”
I nodded, feeling somewhat boxed into a corner. Maybe the price would be prohibitive and I could go elsewhere.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending upon how one looked at the fashion conundrum, Mrs. Duff’s quickly calculated figures were more than reasonable. I could easily afford the dress, especially since I had spent virtually nothing on housing since I had arrived in Scotland.
Accessories might still be an issue, but I was willing to splurge a bit on those, because I would select items I could wear again back home. I really doubted there would ever be another occasion in my life for a fancy red evening dress.
* * *
By the day before the charity event, the great hall in the closed-off portion of the castle had been transformed. Thousands of tiny white lights had been strung both inside and outside in the walled garden. The forecast at the moment looked favorable. Hopefully, the guests would be able to enjoy one of the last warm weekends of the summer—warm being a relative term in the Highlands.
In a shop in town I had found an ivory shawl crocheted of yarn so fine it looked as if it might have been woven by fairies. Hopefully I wouldn’t need it. I’d spent enough on the dress that it would be a shame to hide it. My tiny clutch purse and modest heels were basic black. Abigail had promised to loan me a thin gold chain with a single pearl that nestled in my modest cleavage.
Again and again I fought the urge to talk to Bryce. I wanted to clear the air. I missed him. His humor. His kindness. His rugged masculinity. The way he made me feel feminine and desirable.
&
nbsp; I suspected I had hurt his pride. That had never been my intent at all, but at least it was better than him guessing that I was in love with him. I couldn’t bear to see the compassion in his eyes if he deciphered my secret amidst my inexplicable behavior.
Every night since I cut his hair in the garden and we argued, I found myself tempted to go to his room and beg his forgiveness. His coldness was painful. He was never rude to me, but our interactions, scant as they were, were now couched in freezing formality.
If Abby noticed anything amiss, she didn’t let on. She had blossomed from the woman I had met on the day Brodie pounced on me. I hoped we could maintain a long-distance friendship, even though her brother would likely never want to hear my name spoken again.
The worst part of my life now was the succession of lonely nights when I struggled to fall asleep. I turned on my phone promptly at nine every evening, almost hoping for a 9-1-1 alert from Hayley or McKenzie. I wanted so badly to talk to either or both of them. I couldn’t imagine their adventures were as astounding as mine, though I hoped they were happier.
In my quiet room, I relived again and again the night Bryce had come to me. It seemed like a dream now. I’d had the laird in my bed, but I had sent him away. Equally bad were the memories of the day at Culloden and our private picnic. He’d been so happy that afternoon, and so had I.
Being mature and responsible sucked. If I hadn’t been so scared of being hurt, I might have been in Bryce’s bed or he in mine every single night. In my heart, though, I knew I had done the right thing. If losing him like this hurt, how much worse would it have been if he’d made love to me over and over again?
It was better this way. Soon I would go back to being a hairdresser from Atlanta. Castles and fairytales and handsome Highland lairds were delightful, but you couldn’t build a future on them. Reality was the only currency I understood, the only one that ultimately mattered.
Chapter 25
I was in an odd position. Part of me couldn’t wait for the night of the charity dinner and dance. But unfortunately with every day that passed, I was that much closer to leaving Scotland and Bryce. My plan was to move from the castle to a hotel in town on the morning after the ball.
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