I was not going to tell Bryce how I felt. He had already done so much for me: shared his home, introduced me to the Highlands. And now he had promised to bail me out of my financial mess. It was hardly fair of me to embarrass him with a declaration that would make him uncomfortable.
He was a man of the world. If he wanted me to stay, he would have told me. This brief chapter of my life was coming to an end.
All I had left was tonight. But that was enough.
Chapter 32
When the next knock came, the clock on my bedside table read almost one a.m. I opened the door and smiled at Bryce. “I was about to give up on you.”
He groaned, moving past me and shrugging out of his jacket. “Do ye mind if I get comfortable?”
“Not at all.” I watched, dry-mouthed, as he unbuckled his belt and sporran and laid them aside.
He pulled the small ceremonial knife from its resting place and handed me the leather scabbard. “Toss that on the dresser, will you, lass?” Next, he kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks. Now he stood before me clad only in his kilt and billowy white shirt. A pirate laird come to pillage and plunder.
I held up my hand. “That’s enough. I want a chance to enjoy this side of you. I haven’t seen you in a kilt since the first day we met.”
Moving toward me, he grinned, giving me a bad attack of goosebumps. “That was a grand day, Willow. One I’ll not soon forget.”
My smile didn’t falter. “Nor I.”
He glanced at the bed. Then back at me. “I feel a bit grubby to be coming to a lady’s arms. I thought about taking a shower, but I was afraid to make you wait too long.”
“I have a shower here.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “True.”
Retrofitting a several centuries old castle could be done, but the outcome was not necessarily up to twenty-first standards of luxury. My tub was an old porcelain affair on claw feet. The shower curtain surrounded it entirely. A hand-held sprayer hung from a hook on the shower rod.
“We could share.”
His blue eyes darkened. “That’s verra kind of you.”
“You’ve had a long day. I might even wash your back.”
He laughed, but his chuckle was hoarse. “Sweet Willow. My back is way down the list.”
As I turned red at his plain speaking, he spun me around and lowered my zipper. “You don’t know how many hours I’ve waited to get you out of this thing.”
“I love this dress. Don’t be rude.” When the silk started to fall, I held my hands to my chest, trapping the fabric, shielding my breasts from his hungry gaze. “We’ll take turns. You may remove your shirt now.”
He gave me a mock bow. “As the lady wishes.”
If I thought I had the upper hand for a moment, it didn’t last. When Bryce pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, I trembled. His chest was lightly tanned, taut-skinned, warm and sleek.
I summoned my inner smart-ass. “Oh, my. I feel faint.”
“You’ll pay for that,” he said. His grin promised retribution even more than his words.
So there we stood, me in my undies, half-wearing an evening gown; Bryce in a kilt and nothing else.
“Shall we adjourn to the other room?” I asked.
“Not until you lose that dress.”
“Very well.” He had seen me naked before. I don’t know why this time was any different, but it was. Holding my arms out to the side, I let the dress fall to my ankles.
Bryce paled, his gaze fixed on my narrow, black-lace bikini panties. “I can help with that last bit,” he said, a quiver in his words.
“Feel free.”
When his hands settled on my hips, I found myself at eye level with his aristocratic chin. I nipped it with my teeth.
“Damn it, woman,” he said, “Hold still.” Carefully, he hooked his thumbs inside my undies and slid them down my legs. Now I was completely naked. Bryce looked his fill, but he didn’t touch me anymore than necessary.
I crossed my arms beneath my breasts. “I’ll let you do the kilt. I don’t want to mess it up.”
His lips quirked. “Wouldn’t want that.” Rapidly, he unfastened the single pin. In a flash, the tartan fabric went the way of my dress.
I had spent a lot of hours imagining this moment. Now that it was here, paralysis gripped me. “The tub’s not very big.”
“We’ll manage.”
It was my room, but I let the laird take the lead. I expected him to take me in his arms and hold me close, but he surprised me at every turn. Linking his fingers with mine, he led me into the bathroom and made me wait while he turned on the water and adjusted the temperature.
“Come here, Willow. I won’t bite.”
He was teasing me, but I was ridiculously scared. Not of Bryce, never of him. But of the way my heart jumped out of my chest and into his keeping. All he had to do was raise one eyebrow and I melted.
He helped me into the tub and took the showerhead off the hook. “Hand me the soap.”
Apparently, I had become mute. I couldn’t think of a single witty thing to say, so I let him orchestrate what turned out to be a very practical joint shower. He manned the water flow, but he offered me the soapy cloth so I could wash myself. Then we swapped places. When we were both clean, we had not even touched each other since we closed the shower curtain.
Enclosed in a thin polyester veil, our world had narrowed to an impossibly small space. Bryce’s eager erection bumped my thigh.
When he turned off the water, I sucked in a breath. Obviously, this wasn’t a movie where the hero takes the soapy heroine up against the wall of the shower. We didn’t even have a wall.
The room was deathly silent. “Towels?” I muttered.
He nodded. His expression had morphed from cheerful and teasing to dark and brooding. What did the change mean?
Since my bath partner made no move to get out, I turned my back on him and stepped carefully out of the tub. Grabbing a thick, fluffy bath sheet, I began drying myself from stem to stern. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Bryce get out as well.
I wasn’t a prude; I fantasized as much as the next woman. The shower scenario was a pretty common theme in sexy movies, so I’m sure sometime in the past I had imagined myself all wet and soapy with a handsome Sam Heughan. Somewhere, though, my own experience had derailed.
“Bryce?”
“Hmmm?” He seemed to be giving great attention to drying between each of his manly toes.
“Is something wrong?”
He must have heard the uncertainty in my voice. His head snapped up. “No, lass.”
“Then why aren’t we…” I trailed off, unable to describe exactly what it was we weren’t doing.
His jaw turned to stone. Blue eyes flashed. At his sides, his hands fisted. “I’m feeling a wee bit intense, Willow. I didna’ want to frighten you. I thought it best to slow down.”
Oh my. I felt my stomach drop to my feet. My laird was intense and aroused and perhaps a little dangerous. “You won’t. I swear.”
The four brave, albeit rash, words destroyed whatever self-control he’d been wielding. He grabbed a handful of my wet hair, short though it was, and dragged me against him for a hot, wet kiss.
Everywhere our bodies touched felt like fire. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam rising from my skin and his.
“Willow,” he groaned. “God, ye feel amazing, lass.” His hands moved over me as if he were mapping my curves.
I explored as well. He was hard everywhere I was soft. His broad shoulders. His strong arms. His narrow hips. I was drunk with the joy of touching him as I pleased. No one to intrude. No one to point out our foolishness.
Flinging my arms around his neck, I went up on tiptoe to kiss him, my heart hammering madly beneath my ribcage. “I wish we could have danced together a few more times tonight. It was fun. I liked your friends.”
“Well, the lads sure as hell liked you.”
The disgruntlement in his voice
tickled me.
“Surely you don’t think I had an eye for anyone but my laird?” I kissed him again, leaning into him, wanting to purr with pleasure.
“You do have an obsession with Scotsmen,” he pointed out. “You and your friends flew across an ocean in search of them.”
“True.” I took his hands and urged him toward the bedroom. I was starting to get cold. At least on the outside. “But I found you right off the bat, so I didn’t have to look any farther.”
“Technically, Brodie found you,” he said. Scooping me into his arms, he put a knee on the mattress and deposited me with infinite care. “I was beginning to think this night would never come.” He sat back on his heels, regarding me like a hungry mountain lion about to pounce on an unwary hiker.
I ran my hand along his flank, admiring the tightly muscled backside. “You’re a busy man.” His sex reared proudly against a flat abdomen. I reached for it, but Bryce stopped me.
“Later,” he croaked. “I’m close to comin’ already. You’re a witch, I think. The both of us should be in bed dead to the world. We’ve worked and worked and worked until we were weary to the bone. Yet here we are.”
“Yes,” I said softly. “Here we are.” I paused. “You’ll let me know when I can play with…that?” I pointed at his erection. It bobbed eagerly as if translating my words immediately.
“Aye.”
I spread my arms wide and bent one knee, my foot resting against the mattress. “Then come and get me, Bryce. I’ve a hankerin’ to be ravished.”
“Whatever the lady wants.”
Given the state of his arousal, I expected him to go straight for the mother lode. But the man surprised me again. He lay beside me, head propped on his hand, and stroked me from head to toe, discovering a few hitherto yet uncharted erogenous zones along the way.
Who knew my hipbones were so sensitive? The inside of my knee so ticklish? At last, when I thought I couldn’t bear it any longer, Bryce moved between my legs and entered me with one strong push.
“Bryce…” I whispered his name. The surge of emotion that clogged my throat with tears caught me off guard. This was the moment I had waited for all night. There was no need to be sad now, surely.
Yet I was. I found myself in the unenviable position of being able to predict the future. No tarot cards, no crystal balls. Just a gut certainty that this moment with Bryce was the swansong of my Scottish Outlander adventure. I had reached the pinnacle of my month-long trip.
There was nowhere to go but down.
Chapter 33
I expected Bryce to fall asleep immediately after we made love. He had brought me to a shivering climax and then joined me, slumping on top of me at the end.
Burying my face in the side of his neck, I freed one hand and lazily combed my fingers through his hair. I loved touching the thick, healthy strands. I would never be able to forget him, not ever. It was the simplest of things that clung to my imagination already.
The way he tossed back his head when he laughed. The genuine affection he bestowed upon his half-cute, half-ugly dog. The way his eyes darkened to sapphire when he wanted me.
He flopped onto his back and groaned. “Give me ten minutes,” he said. “I’ll be right as rain again.”
“Don’t write checks your body can’t cash.”
My teasing warning came too late. Bryce was out of it. He snored softly, his facial features relaxed and boyish. Naked, he looked far younger than his thirty-seven years. Day to day he carried so much responsibility that his air of command was almost an inseparable part of him.
Yet with me, he had let down his guard.
I lay there for the longest time wondering what to do. I could wait until he began to rouse and whisper that I loved him. That way he could pretend to be asleep and not hear me, letting me down gently.
Even I knew that was a pathetic plan. My second choice was to tell him to his face. But I wasn’t that brave. He’d had every opportunity to tell me he had deep feelings for me, but he hadn’t. Not once. The only conclusion I could draw was that he didn’t care. At least not in the way I did.
The third and final option open to me was to run. After all, it had been good enough for Cinderella, why not for me?
I slid out of bed before I lost my nerve. Leaving Bryce all warm and sated in between the covers was the hardest thing I had ever done.
When he stirred and muttered, I put my hand on his shoulder. “Go back to sleep,” I whispered. “I need to use the bathroom.”
He grunted and rolled to his stomach, unconscious again almost immediately.
Abigail would be willing to collect my clothes for me later. All I needed was my backpack with my personal items, toiletries, and valuables. I grabbed up a clean pair of undies and a fresh jumper and t-shirt and slipped them on, careful not to make a single sound.
When I was dressed, I pressed a hand to my sternum. My chest ached desperately. Oddly, I was now beyond tears.
My last task was a difficult one. I couldn’t afford to linger, so I moved quickly. Using a sheet of fancy notepaper from the antique desk, I wrote a note.
Dear Bryce,
It turns out that I’m not good with good-byes. Please know that I am so very grateful for everything you did to make my trip memorable. I’ll never forget our time together. If you’re still willing to give me a loan, I’ll let Abby be our go-between. Best of luck with your lovely family and your wonderful castle.
Fondly,
Willow
My note to Abigail was easier to write. At least I could see her before I flew home.
Picking up the backpack, I stared at the man in the bed, my hands icy and my legs trembling. Was I doing the right thing? Did I have any other choice?
I folded the note in half and put it on top of his jacket and shirt. I knew he wouldn’t wander around half dressed, so he would be sure to see it. Stealthily, I eased out into the hall and shut the bedroom door.
It was the work of seconds to slide Abby’s note beneath her door.
Then all that was left was to leave the castle. I had already sketched out a plan in my head. The early morning was perfect for walking. I would begin the trek to Inverness on foot. If I got tired, I would power on my phone and call a cab.
This definitely qualified as an emergency.
In the front foyer, I eyed the ornate door. I had never actually opened it by myself. I didn’t want to make a lot of noise.
Instead, I chose to exit through the mudroom at the back of the house, the way I had first come to Dunvarstone.
What I hadn’t counted on was the dog. Brodie slept on a pile of soft towels, guarding the exit. He jumped up and barked when I appeared.
“Shhh,” I whispered frantically. “It’s just me.” I managed to quiet him, but he thought I had come to play. “Go back to sleep, Brodie.” Did he understand me? Maybe not. He stood there with his tongue lolling and a goofy dog smile on his face. I wanted to take him with me for comfort and protection on my walk into town, but I would have no way of returning him.
The dog barked again.
I put my hand on his head. “Brodie MacBrae,” I said sternly. “Lie down and be quiet.”
He whined but obeyed.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I hefted the backpack again and reached for the door.
“You left your glass slipper behind.”
The voice startled me so much I tripped over the dog and nearly face-planted into the door.
I spun around. “Bryce. You’re awake.”
He held out one of my black high heels and stared at me, his gaze dispassionate. “I was awake the whole time. I wanted to see how far you would go. Literally. Apparently, farther than I thought. Did you have a destination in mind, or were you planning to roam the countryside like a gypsy?”
“Inverness,” I said dully. “That’s where I was going. I have to catch the train in three days. To go back to Heathrow.” When I began to shake, I had to bite down hard on the inside of my lip. “I wanted to avoi
d this.” I waved a hand between the two of us.
He tossed the shoe aside. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
He was judge and jury, reducing me to the small, humiliating stance of a child. I lifted my chin. “I’m not a prisoner here. You and Abigail knew I would be leaving soon.”
“Leave my sister out of this. And don’t even get me started on what a smack in the face it was for you to walk out on her without a proper good-bye.”
“It wasn’t good-bye,” I snapped. “Abigail and I agreed to see each other on her lunch breaks this week.”
“So you had this planned all along? Sneaking out of my bed and my castle in the middle of the night like a damned thief?”
His façade cracked. He was yelling now. Something about that made me feel better. His anger was easier to bear than his icy cold appraisal.
“You know I have to go home and clean up my mess.”
“With my money? You really think you can treat what we had like a tawdry one-night stand and then hold out your hand for payment?”
“That’s not fair,” I whispered. The tears that ran down my face were beyond my control. My stomach curled into a tight knot. “You offered the money. I didn’t ask for it.”
“You never ask for anything, do you, Willow?” The anger faded leaving disgust and disappointment in his voice.
“I don’t understand.”
“I gave you every opportunity in the world to tell me I meant something to you more than a holiday romance, but you never took the bait. Because you don’t think you deserved to be loved. And that’s pretty sad.”
All the breath left my body. He had stripped me raw, laying open my insecurities. “Is this some kind of sick mind game? Why should I have to lay my heart on the line?”
Brodie whined in a muted cadence, clearly disturbed by the vibe in the room.
Bryce glared at me, big and angry and blustering. “Well, one of us has to, damn it. But I have an ancient uncle and a money pit of a castle. It didn’t seem fair to drag you into all my drama if you wanted to go home. I know how much your business means to you and how important your independence is. So I waited. I thought if what we had was the real deal, you’d come to that conclusion on your own.”
Scot of My Dreams Page 18