MacLarens of Balmorie 05 - Once Upon A Time In Scotland (5 page)

He glanced over, humor brimming in his blue eyes. “It was good. Very good.”

Heat stung her cheeks. She'd just bet it was...

“That's two questions,” he said. “Mind if I ask you one?”

Crap. “Sure if you don't mind if I don't answer.”

“Fair enough. What you said last night... Why has it been so long for you?”

She'd half expected him to ask her if it had really been four years, but he'd dug down a little deeper. “Well, that's hard to answer. A lot of reasons. A lot of things happening in my life. Motherhood, divorce, moving, work... Motherhood,” she said again with a laugh. “It just never happened.” She pulled her gaze from the scenery and looked at him again. “Have you ever been married?” He shook his head. “Long term relationship?”

“No.”

“I wasn't coming on to you last night.”

“Aye, I ken. I'd much rather you come on to me sober.”

A pregnant pause settled in the cab before they both laughed.

“Well, you don't have to worry about that,” she said. “I'm not looking to . . . hook up.”

His gaze remained on the road and she felt a subtle shift in his mood. “Seems we're at opposite ends of the spectrum then.”

Honest, she'd give him that. She got the feeling he was either trying to shock her or warn her off, like a shot fired across the bow. If she wanted to play in his sandbox, he was letting her know exactly who he was.

“You like being single,” she said.

His answer was an indecisive shrug, which didn't really answer the question at all.

Abbie
returned to stare out the window, thinking of her personal life—or lack thereof—in the last four years. She'd had some interest, been asked out, even went on a few dates, but her heart hadn't been in the process or the man, and eventually she stopped going altogether.

“There it is,” Liam said as they crested the hill.

The ruins spread out below, situated by the loch and taking
Abbie's
breath away. Her chest went a little tight. Talk about picture perfect with its square tower and crumbling walls. It was history, romance, beauty, and sadness all rolled into one.

She'd read a little about its history in the brochure included in her welcome basket. It was the first
MacLaren
stronghold in these parts, and it was still in
MacLaren
hands.

“It's a good thing you left the bike behind,” Liam said as he navigated down the steep slope, avoiding the muddy ruts in the road.

“You're a
MacLaren
,”
Abbie
said, watching him.

“Aye.”

“How long has your family lived here?”

“Mine?' he asked, surprised.

“Yeah.”

He thought for a moment and gave a small shrug, eyes on the road. “Family has called
Balmorie
home since the sixteen hundreds.”

“So they're connected to the ruins?”

“Of course. My great grandfather many times over was brother to the laird. The castle,” he nodded toward the ruins, “has a fair interesting past.”

He didn't elaborate and her curiosity got the better of her. “Go on...”

“Well, let's see. There's been lost love, betrayal, murder, and—”

Ooh
. “Murder.”

He chuckled. “Aye. A great, ghastly murder it was. Never solved. No one could figure out who kill the beautiful Lady
Bree
. Word has it she was bonny, kind, and well-loved by her clan.”

“What happened to her?”

Liam pulled off the road and parked the truck in the grass. “Pushed right off the tower. Some say she jumped because of a broken heart, but many
dinna
believe that theory since she was already hand-fasted to the man she loved.”

“And that's all anyone knows?”

With a nod, he turned off the truck and removed the key. The fact that his family had lived in the castle filled her with intrigue. To be able to trace your lineage back so far, to know your roots and to walk the same roads, see the same landscape as those before you was amazing. Of course—she thought with writer's glee—it could very well have been one of Liam's direct ancestors who pushed poor
Bree
off the tower.

The delicious feeling of mystery filled her, and she knew coming here for creative inspiration was the best idea she'd had in a long time.

As
Abbie
gathered her bag and slung the strap over her shoulder, Liam was already out of the truck and walking around to her door. He opened it for her and she hopped down.

“How's your foot?”

And like last night,
Abbie
found herself trapped between the truck and six-foot-three inches of hot Scottish Highlander.

And cue the butterflies
.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she managed to answer, “Good.” And then, “I'm fine here by myself. I'm sure you have stuff to do, so...” With that, she moved away from the truck as Liam shut the door, then turned to face her, his eyes narrowing.

“I
dinna
have much to do today. Figured you might like a tour.” His gaze shifted to the stones. “That auld pile has many a tale to tell, and I ken them all.”

The small quirk of his lips made her wonder if he was playing her or, more specifically, playing on her interest in all things mysterious. Probably both. When the quirk drew into a crooked grin, she knew she had her answer. Her insides tingled and came alive. “Come on, Murphy,” he added. “I
willna
bite. Unless you want me to.”

Her eyes rolled and man she wanted to smile, to flirt, to throw her good sense right out the window and spend the day ogling him and the castle. He was so damn sexy standing there with his hands in his pockets grinning at her. When she didn't move, he walked past her, saying in a deep accent, “Allow me
ta
show ye my history.”

The whole deepening his accent thing was purely for her benefit. He probably knew it made the tourists swoon, and she had to wonder how many tourist notches he had on his bed post.

Abbie
watched him stroll past her and onto the ruins. His gait was sure and easy, just as confident and bold as the
the
rest of him.

He was interested in her. Very interested. No man had looked at her like
that
in a long time. As much as she wanted to give in and engage in some wild, passionate fling, she wouldn't let it happen.

She'd stick to her guns.

Her father always said she was a hard nut to crack.

Abbie
let out a snort at that. If only she'd been more discerning with her ex-husband, Jake... but then, she wouldn't have Logan. It was hard to regret letting Jake into her life when the result was her heart and soul. She regretted her marriage, for sure. The marriage had happened after, and to some extent because of her pregnancy. Had her eyes been open she would have seen it was doomed from the start. But she'd had so much hope that things would fall into place...

Something wonderful had come from being reckless. Her son.

But that didn't mean she was going to be reckless again. Once was enough. She could barely manage her life now.

With a sigh, she picked her way over a fallen chunk of stone and headed along the south facing wall. The castle had been built close to the loch. Too her, the location was perfect and beautiful. But to Liam, it was simply home, his turf, his past. She stopped at the edge of the wall and listened to the water lap against the shore, imagining what it would have been like to stand on the ramparts hundreds of years ago.

Liam stood a few feet away, legs apart, gazing up at the tower, the breeze stirring his unruly hair. He looked every bit the Highlander of old, a tall able-bodied man with a smile that could melt snow. All he needed was a kilt and a sword.

Sensing her stare, he turned his head and, for a moment, she saw a different side of him reflected in the steady blue eyes. A quiet strength, a depth that spoke of life experiences and emotions that weren't all fun and games.

Abbie
couldn't look away.

She'd always been a keen observer and a lifelong people watcher, and she was certain she'd just glimpsed the real Liam. The moment left her disconcerted and a whole lot curious. Maybe he wasn't all that he pretended to be, a mystery just begging to be solved...

Oh, jeez. That was all she needed.

Hot guy plus mystery equaled trouble with a capital T.

The wind over the loch brought with it a cool chill. She pulled on her jacket and gave herself a stern internal lecture. She'd enjoy the day, focus on writing, and keep her emotions locked down tight. Easy, right? “Aren't you cold?” she asked, approaching.

“We Highlanders are impervious to cold, haven't you heard?”

The breeze flung her hair in her face. She pushed it aside and smiled. “So where should we start?”
Abbie
gazed up at the tower and the walls of the castle. According to the brochure she'd read, two stories of the tower were still intact, and safe to explore with a guide, along with some of the walls and one of the fireplaces in the Great Hall.

“The way is a bit rocky,” Liam said, holding out his hand.

She hid her hesitation and took his hand not wanting him to think she couldn't handle a little skin to skin contact. It wasn't a big deal. Except that it kind of was because when his big hand wrapped around hers, it sent a jolt right to her chest.

Focus, she reminded herself. Enjoy the day. Not a big deal
.

After all, today was a once in lifetime event. When else would she get a personal tour of a honest to goodness castle by someone whose ancestors actually lived right in this very spot?

CHAPTER 5

He was going straight to hell.

Bree
hadn't been murdered. It had been well documented that she'd slipped and fell, not from the tower, but down the steps while hurrying to midday meal. A tragedy to be sure. He hadn't been able to stop the lie; it had flowed from his mouth with ease. To hold the lass's interest. To give him the day with her. Pathetic, really. He was once an honest man. And now... Hell, the ground wasn't even that rocky and yet there he was holding out his hand as if the way was treacherous indeed.

He'd never felt this confused in his life. And to top it off, the lie had given him heartburn.

Her hand fit nicely in his and he had to stop the urge to link their fingers in a more intimate way, deciding it was better to say as little as possible so as not to dig himself a faster grave.

Twenty minutes later, he found he was actually a damn good tour guide. When it came to playing photographer, however, he wasn't so keen on the idea and was glad to return
Abbie's
camera after snapping a few pictures of her standing in the massive fireplace. Every time he focused the lens on her, his heartburn seemed to flare.

What he wouldn't give for an antacid.

“Thanks.” She stepped out of the fireplace and took the camera, then snapped a few pictures of the stonework detail on the mantel. “Did you play here when you were little?” she asked as she focused the lens.

“My brother and I. And my cousins, too, when they'd come over for the summers. Imagine five lads running wild on the estate. Any trouble you can imagine we got into, we probably did.”