Irresistible in a Kilt (Hot Scots Book 8)

by Anna Durand

  "Doesn't matter," Alex says, getting up. "You need to go home before Reginald arrives and he—I don't know what he's planning, but I want you far away from here when it happens."

  He's worried about me. That's not the behavior of a bastard who cares only about his own wants and needs. He cares about me. My chest constricts, like a huge strap has been cinched tight around it. He cares.

  I hop off the bed and lay a hand on his arm. "Thank you for telling the truth, Alex."

  He shrugs away from my touch. "I was merely alerting you to the problem. It's nothing I wouldn't do for anyone else."

  "Your bum's oot the windae again," I say with a teasing smile. "Donnae ruin the moment by reverting to your ersehole persona."

  "Maybe it's not a persona. Maybe it's who I am."

  "No, it's not." I move closer and tip my head back to meet his gaze. "I'm not leaving. If you're in trouble, I'm staying here with you."

  He stares at me for a long, long moment, his expression so veiled I can't figure out what he's thinking or feeling. This is his usual state. A moment ago, he'd shown me the raw, unveiled truth of his feelings, but now he's slammed that mask down over his face again.

  "I'm not leaving," I tell him. "The authorities will be searching for Reginald Hewitt. My concern is for you, Alex, and I will not walk away when you're in trouble."

  "You've done it before when the situation was far less serious. Don't be a silly Scots girl, behave like a mature adult. Anyone with half a brain would realize the intelligent thing to do is to leave."

  The nasty tone of his voice doesn't fool me one bit, though I can't stop the tears that sting my eyes. Rationally, I know he's saying those things on purpose to chase me away. My heart takes his words as gospel, though, and it hurts.

  He will not drive me away this time. I am a mature woman now, and I do not let anyone bully me.

  Even when they're doing it out of fear and a desperate need to protect me.

  "That won't work, Alex," I say as I take his face in my hands. "I will never walk away from you again, not when you need me, not even when you're trying to push me away. I won't make it that easy for you anymore."

  "You are a sentimental fool, Catriona."

  "No, I'm a woman who knows her own mind. You won't be telling me what to do or think anymore." I press my lips to his, then back away. "Thank you for being honest with me, Alex. But it's time we head to campus. We have jobs to do."

  He stalks out of the room.

  On the drive into town, we don't speak. He doesn't blare classical music the entire time, but he refuses to acknowledge my existence, never looking at me, much less engaging in conversation. When we reach the faculty parking lot, he jumps out and takes off at a fast walk that verges on a run.

  Alex, you poor, frightened man.

  I make my way to my new office, which is located a few doors down from Alex's office. He must have arranged it this way, but I have no doubt he regrets his conniving now that he's decided I need to leave. How can I? After twelve years of wondering what happened to us, I finally have the chance to find the answers. I may need to dig them out of Alex by force, but I will get them.

  Last night, I got a glimpse of the man I'd loved. I can't forget that. I won't forget it.

  An hour later, one of my new colleagues stops by to say hello and welcome me to Thensmore. Virgil Burns is a gray-haired man with kind eyes and an equally kind smile who wears a tweed suit with a bow tie, like he's just stepped out of a Sherlock Holmes novel. Though his accent is American, he talks like a Victorian gentleman, saying things like "nevermore" and "whosoever." I like him immediately.

  He asks me to call him Virgil, so I invite him to call me Catriona.

  After a few minutes of conversation, he tells me, "I have a class this afternoon, but I have a horrid toothache and need to get that looked at today. Would you mind filling in for me? The topic is the archaeology of Roman England. Since you're from the UK, I thought you might know a bit about that."

  I do know about Roman England, though I've never given a lecture on it. I'm also new here and haven't settled in quite yet, but I don't want to turn down a request from a colleague.

  "Here's my outline for the lecture," Virgil says, placing the folder he's been holding on my desk. "I can email you the slides I was going to use as visual aids. I know it's last minute, and I understand if you're not comfortable with doing this."

  I don't need to think about it. "Of course I'll do it. I haven't lectured in quite some time, so it would be nice to get back to it sooner than expected."

  "Wonderful." He shakes my hand vigorously. "You are a lifesaver, Catriona."

  Once Virgil leaves, I look over his lecture notes and download the slides to my computer once he sends them to me. Since I'm familiar with the topic, this shouldn't be difficult. I haven't been in front of a class—a real one full of eager students—since my PhD program. Back then, I'd acted as a teaching assistant but hadn't delivered real lectures. I would fill in if the professor couldn't be there. Mostly, I'd handed out tests and monitored the students while they filled in their answers. My cousin Iain had invited me to lecture at the university where he worked, but I'd been a guest who spoke for part of the time, not the sole lecturer.

  For the decade before that, I'd spoken in front of schoolchildren, not adults.

  Unlike Alex, I don't qualify for the large lecture hall. That's fine with me. I walk into a regular classroom and take my place at the desk. A projector sits on a metal cart beside it, so I get to work hooking my laptop up to the projector and making sure everything works the way it should. Just as I finish, students begin to shuffle into the room.

  Virgil Burns teaches world history, so I'm not required to give a detailed talk about the science of archaeology. This is an introductory lesson, aimed at first-year undergraduates. I'm glad for that. A slow start will get me ready for Monday, when I have my first class full of students who are serious about archaeology and ancient history.

  I wind up with twenty students, spread out among thirty desks. Not a bad turnout. The lecture notes are spread out on the desk, so I move behind it to get started.

  Movement catches my eye, and I glance toward the back of the room. Alex is hovering just outside the doorway, half hidden by the jamb, like he's trying to secretly watch me.

  I pretend not to notice. After our emotional talk this morning, I don't want to embarrass him. If he wants to hide and watch me, I'll act as if I haven't seen him. But the idea that he wants to observe my class gives me an odd warmth in my chest.

  "Good morning," I say to the students. "So, Roman Britain. Does anyone know how much of Great Britain the Romans conquered?"

  A lad raises his hand and says, "All of it?"

  "Not quite. Anyone else want to guess?"

  This time a lass answers. "Not Scotland."

  "Good," I say, "but still not entirely accurate. Rome did gain control of a part of southern Scotland, though not for long. We'll get into the details a bit later. Let's start at the beginning, shall we? Anyone care to hazard a guess about which emperor set the wheels of conquest in motion?"

  The lad who'd responded earlier says, "Hadrian?"

  I shake my head.

  Another lad calls out, "Nero."

  One girl seated in back raises her hand.

  "Go on," I tell her.

  She hunches her shoulders. "Claudius?"

  "You are correct," I tell her, "Claudius was the first to conquer Britain. But there's a bit more to the story than that. Claudius initiated the first successful invasion, but it was Julius Caesar who first invaded Britain. Those pesky Gauls over in France kept him so busy that he lost his hold on the British territory. After the death of Caligula, Claudius became emperor and mounted the first all-out invasion and conquest of Britain."

  My students are paying attention. Looking interested. I've engaged my audience with the first try. Maybe I'm not as out of place here as I thought. Maybe I reall
y do deserve this job.

  And I have the man hiding in the doorway to thank for that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Alex

  Observing Catriona's lecture leaves me awestruck. I've always known she has the brains and determination to do whatever she wants. But I never had the chance to see her giving a lecture. Cat has enthusiasm for the subject matter, but more importantly, she is an expert on it. When she talks about the archaeological evidence of the Roman invasion, I'm spellbound by her excitement and the easy, natural charisma she evinces.

  I want to fuck her again. Immediately.

  That's a bad idea, though. After spilling my ruddy guts to her this morning, I'm much too raw to risk even kissing, much less having sex with, Cat. I need her to leave. My brilliant idea to lure her into my domain and trick her into staying in my house has begun to seem like the worst bollocks I've ever invented. She won't give up. I already know the new Cat is not shy or unassuming. She's a firebrand, and my house of cards is highly flammable.

  Yes, I'm mixing metaphors. Christ, that woman is turning me into a nutter. Maybe I need to get myself away to…anywhere she isn't.

  Running away? From a woman? I'm worse than a nutter. I've become a bloody coward.

  Moirai House is enormous. I can hide from her quite well without leaving home.

  Catriona is just wrapping up her lecture, so I sneak away before she catches me spying on her. I don't know why I felt the need to see her, to listen to her voice, and I'm not going to do any navel-gazing to figure out the answer. When I bumped into Virgil Burns in the hallway, he told me Cat would be handling his lecture for him. The thought of watching Cat teach a class made me bizarrely excited. I've never seen her teach before. Curiosity, that's all it was. I needed to watch, I've done it, and now I no longer need her in any way, shape, or form.

  But her shape still entices me. Her lovely, sexy shape.

  I've run away to my office, sitting in my chair with my eyes closed, thinking about how to keep Catriona MacTaggart away from me, when a throat-clearing makes me glance at the doorway.

  A student whose name I can't remember stands there. She smiles and flutters her lashes at me. "May I have a minute of your time, Dr. Thorne?"

  "Yes, fine. Have a seat."

  I don't want to talk to anyone, but it's part of my job to have conferences with students. The only ones who want to confer with me are boys who want me to give them an A without requiring them to do any work, because they're athletes and deserve it, and also girls who want to bat their eyelashes at me.

  Christ, I'd kill for an intelligent, hard-working student who wants a genuine student-teacher conference.

  The girl sits down in one of the chairs opposite my desk. "I'm Candy, remember? I asked the questions about Greek sports last week."

  Oh yes, I remember her now. She'd raised her hand in class and asked if the Greek athletes got sunburn because they engaged in sports in the nude. She had also asked me whether the Greeks invented aloe body lotion to treat their sunburns.

  "What can I do for you, Candy?" I ask.

  "I'm really confused. Can you help me understand?"

  "Help you with what?"

  She catches her lip between her teeth and flutters her lashes again. "Today, you talked about those cuneiform tablets and how that's the earliest known written language."

  "Yes." I'm starting to feel a headache coming on and want this child to get to the point, but I can't be rude. I've been chastised for that before, when I told a muddle-brained boy that I didn't have time to indulge his obsession with conspiracy theories.

  Candy licks her lips, slowly, and her voice turns sultry—or at least, the college student version of it. "I don't understand why that's a language. It's scratch marks on clay. Can you please explain it to me? Show me those pictures of the tablets again? I didn't get a good look at the slides in class."

  "There are similar images in your textbook."

  "Please, Dr. Thorne, I just need a little help."

  It's my job to teach these children, but I know what she's angling for—and I will get fired if anyone sees her coming on to me, even if I shove her away.

  "All right," I say, pulling up the slide on my computer. "I'll show you."

  Before I can turn the monitor toward her, she jumps up and hurries around the desk to stand beside my chair. Leaning in, she manages to place her cleavage a few centimeters away from my face. I slide my chair sideways, creating a space between us, and point at the image on the screen. "This is a Babylonian cuneiform tablet. Those scratch marks are—"

  Candy lunges at me, aiming her puckered lips toward my mouth.

  I whirl my chair away from her and leap up.

  The chair spins into the wall with a thump.

  Candy pouts. "Come on, Dr. Thorne, everybody knows you like young girls. Don't you think I'm hot?"

  "No, I do not. I'm sorry you've gotten the wrong impression of me, but I do not kiss students or have sex with them." I point toward the door. "Please leave."

  She sighs. "You're no fun."

  I'd much rather be no fun than fired for defiling a student—and blacklisted for the rest of my life. Working at a fast-food restaurant does not appeal to me.

  Candy turns toward the doorway, pouting again. Her eyes widen.

  I glance in that direction.

  And of course, Catriona is leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over her chest, watching Candy with a mildly amused expression. She glances at me. "My, Alex, you do have a powerful effect on silly young girls."

  "I'm not silly," Candy says, then she stomps out of my office, brushing past Cat.

  Thank goodness that little tart is gone.

  Cat ambles up to my desk. "You've been a busy boy, haven't you? Crushing the hopes and dreams of a college student."

  Growling under my breath, I shove my chair back where it belongs and drop onto it. "She wanted to molest me. And I don't particularly want to be fired today."

  "Did you want to do it?"

  "No, I most certainly did not." I slouch in my chair, frowning at her. "Do you honestly think I'd shag a student?"

  "You slept with me when I was a grad student."

  "That was different." I gesture toward the doorway through which Candy disappeared. "That girl is a freshman. You were a grown woman."

  Catriona crosses behind my desk and leans her bottom against it. She's so close to me that I could lay a hand on her thigh, but I don't.

  She bends toward my chair, her gaze trained on me. "I want the truth, Alex. One way or another, I'll get the answers I need, but I'd rather you tell me of your own free will."

  "What if I don't tell you? Are you going to torture me for those answers you think you want to hear?"

  "Aye, I'll torture you." She slants in even more, which makes her blouse fall away from her body, granting me a view of her lacy bra and those delectable breasts. "But I don't need to strap you down on a table and drag razors across your skin to make you talk. I can torture you with the one thing you've never been able to resist."

  "What do you believe that one thing is?"

  She smiles. "Sex."

  This woman knows me too well. After all these years, she ought to be wrong about me in at least a few ways. She's not. She understands me far better than I'd anticipated, and that realization sends excitement rushing through me. Catriona wants to seduce me. I've never been seduced by a woman. College freshman don't count as women. Adult females try to lure me into giving them what they want, but I remain in control of the situation no matter what.

  Except with Cat. She's right about that. I've never been in control with her, never held back when we made love, never resisted her in any way—sexually. Maybe I'd believed I held back when we had sex, but that's a lie I told myself. Yet for the entire time we lived together, I'd withheld many, many things from her. For her own good. It had nothing to do with fear. Nothing at all.

  No, that's not me trying to con
vince myself. Absolutely not.

  I run a hand over my eyes. You're an idiot, aren't you?

  Cat's face is close enough to mine that her breaths tickle my skin. I want to lunge forward and kiss her, but that would be what she wants. My only option is to pretend I don't lust for her and refuse to kiss her, touch her, or shove my head under her skirt.

  No sex. Whatever she does, I will not give in.

  "You can't fuck the truth out of me, Cat."

  She smiles again, this time with a lustful slant to her lips. "Of course I can. We had sex in the lecture hall yesterday, which is all the more proof that you have no willpower with me. What makes you think you can say no if I beg you to make love to me?"

  Begging sounds…good. The idea makes my cock wake up. But making love sounds much too intimate. Not that I'm afraid she really can dig my secrets out of me, in or out of bed.

  Why, then, do I invent a reason to get away from her?

  Because I'm an idiot.

  I push my chair back and stand. "I need to get to the museum. There's paperwork to take care of."

  The fact that the office where I go to do bollocks like that is in a private area protected by doors that require a passcode to enter has nothing whatever to do with my announcement.

  She laughs, and it's the most enchanting sound I've ever heard. "Paperwork? I expect better lies from you than that. Desperate to avoid me, aren't you?"

  "No, I am not. I need to—" I grab my mobile phone and stalk toward the door. "Goodbye, Catriona."

  And she laughs.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Catriona

  What am I going to do with Alex? He insists on clinging to his secrets, even after admitting he worries for my safety with his former right-hand man on the loose again. Alex's anxiety about that had been real, and it might be the most honest thing he's done in years. Now he feels embarrassed about it and thinks he can hide from me. Not likely, Dr. Thorne. I have a plan. Nothing will stop me from enacting it.

  I'm going to crawl under his skin so deep he'll never get me out of his system. And aye, sex is the keystone of my plan.