KiltTease (13 page)

She balled her hand in his hair as tremors wrenched through her. Quinton took over, thrusting until she broke apart on top of him. He swallowed her cries, short growls emitting from his throat. He shuddered beneath her, groaning his pleasure as he came, and then finally relaxed into the bed. When she could think again, Kate let go of his hair and stretched above him, feeling languid and wicked.

Sweat clung to her skin, and since there wouldn’t be time to shower, she’d smell of him and their sex. She felt marked by him and didn’t mind it as the hazy release continued to work its magic.

His hands looked like dead weights at his sides, and he had yet to open his eyes. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth though. “Whatever Yank let you loose on Scotland should be beaten bloody.”

She bent down and gave him a quick kiss. “I always had a fantasy of fucking a man in a kilt. Thank you.”

“Ta, you wee wicked lassie.” His normally subtle accent had gone thick.

“You’ve gone Scottish on me.” Nothing but satisfaction filled her words.

He smacked her ass. “Go on. Get dressed or Geoffrey will check on us. I don’t think he could take seeing us like this.”

“No,” she said, her throat tightening for no good reason with the heated exchange over. “I don’t really want you to be late. I just…” She had to stop talking or the next thing she said would be stupid and sappy.

He opened his eyes. The daze of sex still clouded his blue irises, but he looked at her, through her. She had no doubt he could see her thoughts. “Aye, lass, I know,” he murmured.

She couldn’t help it. All her sarcasm had seemed to abandon her, and there was just her heart on her sleeve. So she kissed him again before going to find another dress. And he didn’t stop her from leaving.

CHAPTER NINE

Six months ago, maybe even a month ago, the soft fragrance cloying the air would have made him close his eyes and sway, reveling in the memories. Angeline’s scent filled his lungs, his mouth. Now he just wanted to spit the taint of the fragrance out.

The owner had opened the entire first floor of MacDougal castle for the reception. Most roamed around the dining room because of the food and liquor. Exactly where they were. Where his fucking life had decided to kick him in the nads once again.

He thanked the bartender for the drinks and faced his ex. She’d worn a white dress to someone else’s wedding reception. He hadn’t caught sight of her at the ceremony, but he doubted it was any less tasteless at a reception.

Shaking his head, he sighed. “Angeline.”

She pouted. “Are you still angry with me, Quinton?”

It wasn’t her he was angry with. When he’d met her, Angeline was exactly the kind of woman who would wear white to someone else’s wedding. She had to be the center of attention, and it had felt good to have her attention on him for a time. She had moments of kindness and vulnerability that had drawn him in and made him drop his guard.

Knowing he only had months left to play rugby, if he dared, he’d been too willing to overlook the rest that didn’t quite settle well on his heart. But apparently it had left him with enough unease he had never revealed his injury to her.

Quinton softened his tone because he knew this exchange wasn’t about him, but her pride. He could understand that all too well. “I’m not angry at you.” Didn’t mean he wanted to waste any more time on her. “If you could excuse me.”

She put a hand on his chest to stop him. He scowled. He felt nothing at her touch but irritation. Her pout grew. “We both know what
Katherine
is.”

His blood turned to ice in his veins. “And she is?”

“Not really your girlfriend. She works for your uncle. How much are you paying her to lie?”

His hands tightened on the glasses. His ex must have dug into Katherine’s history to get that information. His family wouldn’t have talked. His lips started to peel back from his teeth in a snarl. Quinton had to suck in a breath to cool his temper and protective instincts. Still, she took a step back from him.

“We’re done Angeline. I get it. I do. But don’t push me.”

“But you’re paying her?” Disgust laced her tone. “She’s already talking to the press. I’m sure they’ll double whatever you paid her to parade around like she’s in love with you. One look at her, and I can see that she’s not from our world, Quinton. You should have been more careful.”

He tilted his head, his heart pounding, because no one else could have known Kate worked for his uncle.
And his family wouldn’t have talked to the press
.

“What?” he asked, the threat low but there.

Angeline pointed across the room. Kate was chatting with a young blond woman at the buffet table. That wasn’t surprising. Any given day, she could strike up a conversation with a performing mime and somehow get a response. But today she was chatting up Gabrielle, one of the biggest online gossip bloggers in the UK.

Kate.
Fucking Kate
.

His ex had the grace to not smirk, but she’d done the damage she’d intended. This would be her true payback, and he could only be relieved they were done now.

“Occasionally, you had your moments where you were sweet, and that’s why I fell in love with you. Too bad those moments never lasted for long. Fuck off now.”

She looked stricken at the words. He pushed past her and stalked to Kate. Gabrielle caught sight of him first. Maybe his expression appeared as murderous as he felt because her eyes widened. She also found an excuse to vacate the area before he made it to Kate’s side.

Kate smiled up at him. “Did you get the goods?”

He didn’t let the smile weakened him. He’d been soft enough for too long with her. “Were you talking about me to that woman?”

She took in his face, and the smile faded. “No.”

Some part of him knew he was overreacting, but Quinton had let Kate in. Each night since the stag party, she’d stayed the night at his house. She’d massaged his shoulder after his morning workout, and he’d dropped her off at work. He’d told her about his mother, his father, his fractured relationship with both of his brothers. He let her smiles and laughter beat back his caution.

And what did he really know about her in return? She was loyal, kind, and
mercenary
. She had never wanted anything from him.
Had Kate been holding out for a bigger payday?

His fists clenched around the glasses of whiskey he still held. “What did you tell her?”

She swallowed, her brows furrowing. “It was small talk. She asked me about what I do and about America.”

“Just chatting you up?”

“Yes.”

Sometimes that was all a blogger needed. “Fuck.”

He slammed the drinks down on the table. Angeline had probably smuggled the woman in to get those simple details. Those details had been enough to know their relationship was a farce. If his ex knew, that meant the world would know next. Debra Kincade would know. The papers were signed, but that didn’t mean the widow couldn’t, wouldn’t talk people out of doing more business with him.

Quinton kept his voice low but didn’t hold back his temper. “The woman you were simply chatting up runs a very popular blog about celebrities.”

Her hand went up to her mouth. “Shit. I didn’t know.” Her gaze cut to the room around them. “Did your family invite her?”

“They have no reason to.”

The obvious didn’t need to be stated. She’d broken one of his rules. An innocent mistake on the surface, but he knew the consequences even if she didn’t.

“Don’t talk to anyone else.” His tone was as cold as his heart. “Not family, not anyone.”

With the pissed-off expression she threw at him, Quinton should have backed down, but he couldn’t. His ex’s words kept digging at him. He wouldn’t take Angeline’s insinuations at face value, but why had he expected Kate to be different? Because he hoped she would? She’d told him a sob story, catered to him, and wanted nothing in return. Could he buy that given his track record?

Quinton wanted to believe in Kate, in them, but wanting wasn’t enough. He’d learned that the hard way. Tugging a hand through his hair, he looked into her eyes. Was that genuine regret reflected back at him, or was that just what he wanted to see?

He didn’t know, couldn’t trust it, so he picked up the drinks and guided her to a table. She stared at him with a questioning gaze. He started to reassure her, had even bent to kiss her brow, but he simply couldn’t do it. Not anymore. The illusion had shattered. She no longer had a purpose in his life. The papers were signed, his ex had what she wanted, and there were no more excuses to keep Kate as though she was really his.

“Quinton?” she whispered.

He made himself meet her gaze. Her eyes widened, probably seeing the truth on his face.

Quinton straightened, his jaw clenching before he placed her drink by her plate. “You broke a rule, Kate. No press. None. I’ll call Geoffrey to make sure you get back to your B and B safely.”

He turned away from her soft, pained gasp. His legs refused to move for a second as the sound slowly killed some part of him. The part that had been happy for the past few weeks. That hadn’t been angry, at all. The part that had needed her though he hadn’t realized it.

He gritted his teeth. Another second passed, and he forced himself to walk away without looking back.

*****

Three days after the wedding, Kate would have packed it all up and left Scotland if not for Douglass. She’d been hired to take care of him, and even if she hadn’t, Kate couldn’t leave him by himself. The man needed a chaperone.

During Callan’s wedding, he’d beamed with pride most of the day, with copious amounts of whiskey to help him along in his celebration. The day after, she’d made sure he stayed hydrated while he suffered from all his celebrating. The day after that, he started to come around to himself, his gaze observant, his questions pointed. On the third day he hadn’t talked much but was incredibly kind to her for no reason.

And that’s what finally broke her. She had a limitless arsenal for mean or prying, but against kindness she had no defense. One just had to take it right in the heart.

He placed the plate of baked chicken and pilaf in front of her on the scarred kitchen table, and she had to swallow down the tears.

She straightened her spine in hopes she could fool him into thinking that her heart wasn’t aching. “Baird, it’s my job to take care of you.”

He scoffed at the gentle chastisement. “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself and someone else when they need it. It’s all the daft wee bairns around me that need a helping hand.” He lifted his finger and shook it. “Don’t think I can’t see you moping. I’ve broken more than a few hearts in my lifetime and had the same done to me. I know what it looks like. What has that idiot boy done?”

Okay, so she wasn’t doing a good job of covering it up, but why should her heart even ache when what she and Quinton had was never meant to last longer than a few weeks? She definitely wasn’t beating herself up over breaking one of his rules. How could she have known that woman was a gossip hound? Hell, she hadn’t even talked about him.

Something more had to have happened to make him end things. One day soon she wouldn’t care about the why. He’d be the Scottish bastard she’d pretended to date. Until then, his absence only nailed in the point that her trip had a predictable ending—she’d journeyed to a foreign country to say good-bye to her grandmother. She could delay that heart-wrenching farewell, distract herself with affairs, with work. She could wait until she made it to Italy, but it wouldn’t change the inevitable.

Kate glanced toward the door where she’d left her purse and the beadazzled box. For three days, she’d taken her grams to work, intending to get some kind of closure. Each day she’d chickened out. Her grams would have had a few choice words for being turned into a security blanket, but she wasn’t here to speak the recriminations.

Kate tried to show a brave face again, this time telling a nugget of truth. “It’s not the idiot boy. I’m deciding if I should spread my gram’s ashes today. She told me to take her to a place that felt right. I’ve finally found it.”

Baird glanced at the box and then at her. “And you plan to go alone?” His tone left no doubt he wanted to reach across the table and shake her. His reaction lightened her heart a little.

“She’s my grams. No one here knows her. Why would I take anyone else?”

He glared at her explanation. “Funerals, memorials, are for the living, so you don’t do this kind of thing alone.”

She reached for his hand and clasped it. “Thank you, Douglass, but I’ll be fine whenever I decide to go.” To distract him and to put a little more color in his cheeks, she added, “You kind of remind me of her.”

His silver brows lowered and seemed to make a silent protest at her assertion. “I know you’re just saying that to waylay me. Where do you plan to go?”

She shifted in the kitchen chair, wishing he’d drop this line of questioning. “I’m planning to be a rebel and sneak onto the MacDougal castle ruins. She would have loved the cliffs there. It’s so dramatic and beautiful.”

She’d had a pretty long walk along those cliffs to think about how Quinton had just ended things between them. It’s where Geoffrey had found her to give her a ride to the B and B.

“How are you getting there?”

She huffed and returned a glare at him. He only held the stare in challenge. She crossed her arms, feeling defensive. “A cab, maybe.”

“Aye, right,” he said and finally dropped the subject.

Kate relaxed into her chair and finished her plate. He excused himself after lunch. She didn’t see him again until it was time for her to check his vitals and leave.

“Are you going to do it today?” he asked.

She kept her voice calm, steady instead of snapping at him like she wanted. “Why are you obsessed with my choice?”

“Because I care about you.”

Her heart squeezed, but her voice came out sharp. “You’ve only known me for a few weeks. You can’t.”

“Bollocks,” he huffed out. “I could have known you for a day and still wouldn’t want you to go alone.” He patted her head. “You’ll thank me in the long run. Now off you go.”