Off Kilter (35 page)

“So noted.”

Her expression smoothed, and she smiled. “Okay, then. Stipulate away.”

“I want us to show each other our respective worlds, share them, as best we can.”

She frowned, confused. “What do you mean? Teach you photography? And I’ll … what, learn to weave a basket?”

He smiled, then shook his head. “No, though that might be worth the trade. I could enlist Kira’s help in training us both. Then we could weave together each eve, as the sun goes down.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Then you could show me around the dark room. Or, you know, we could just play with blindfolds.”

“Very funny, basket boy,” she said, but he could see her fighting the desire to laugh.

“What I meant was that I presume you won’t be content to live out your days on my admittedly lovely, but wee little island. I would never want you to feel trapped.”

She frowned for real. “What are you saying?”

“You said you have a new path, new stories, or a new angle on old stories … but Kinloch is likely only one of them, so I assume you’ll have others that need telling.”

She nodded, opened her mouth, shut it, then started again. “A lot of places where I spent my time won’t improve, not in my lifetime. In many cases, the opposite. But, being here, I’ve been moved by the way the islanders have worked and struggled and fought to survive, and not just the current generation, but for centuries. Yet, you all have not only survived, you’ve succeeded. I want to tell that story. And I know there are many others out there. So, what I want to do now is … find the happy endings, and tell the story of how they happened. I want to show that hope exists for a reason, and, sometimes, the good guys win.”

He smiled, truly surprised. “Really?”

“Really,” she said simply and with no defensiveness. “Do you think it’s beyond me?” She was asking him sincerely.

“Of course not. It’s perfect for you. In fact, it’s a bloody brilliant idea. Your background and work should make it almost the perfect bookend to the first half of your career.”

She let out a little sigh of relief and smiled. “I’m so glad you think that. Because I’m really excited about it. I have the time here, without anyone knowing my plans, to work on this first story and see if, in fact, I do have something that is meaningful.” She pulled herself out of her reverie and banked her obvious anticipation. “Did you mean, earlier … that you’d want to go on assignment with me?”

“I said before there are solutions if you want to find them. I’ve been thinking that with the way things are going here, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for me to get off the island and cultivate
new markets, try a more hands-on approach. Katie can step in here and take on a good share of the work while I’m gone. And … who knows, perhaps we could collaborate and find stories and potential client bases in the same corners of the world. Or something along those lines.”

She looked stunned. “Really? You’d do that?”

“Really. I’d love to do that. But the other side of it would be you staying here on a regular basis, too. No’ being on the road all the time. There will always be stories, but you’ll have a home now. And we’ll want your shining face in it.”

“We?”

“All of us. Your home won’t just be my four walls, it would be all of the island, and everyone on it. I’d want—or hope—that you’d put down roots here, become part of the rhythm and life cycle here. Be part of something unified and centered and specific, while simultaneously tackling the world. My hope is you’ll feel grounded by it, anchored, not trapped. That it will—we will—provide you the foundation and support for when you go off gallivanting, with or without me, then cheer you when you come home.”

“I won’t want to be without you.” She smiled, even as the slightly amazed look stayed on her face. “I’m going to miss Kinloch, I already know that. Not just you, or Kira. But this place. I’ve come to terms with myself here, my life. This place has meaning to me. Beyond you, beyond Kira.”

“So … you accept my condition then?”

In answer, she leapt up into his arms and wrapped hers tightly around his neck. “Yes. A thousand times, most definitively, and with absolutely no strings attached …
yes.”

He wrapped his arms around her and they spun around. “Good. Bloody fantastic, really!”

“And then some,” she agreed.

“Good thing,” he said, as she kissed the side of his face, noisily, happily, “we both know you’d be an unmitigated disaster without me.”

“So, this would be strictly a pity case thing, then,” she said,
but was smiling and nibbling on his ear as she said it. “Well, I can take that. I have been rather pathetic, despite my best attempts not to be.”

“The only thing pathetic about either of us is that we’re standing outside in the rain, when there is a nice, rather cozy home straight back there.”

“With a very big fireplace, I hear.”

“And an even bigger bed—where I’d like a chance to start over, by the way.”

“I thought we started off pretty well. We might need to work on the finishing part.”

“Then that, too. I’d like to work on all of it with ye. Loads and loads of practice.” He slid her down his body and she wrapped herself tightly into his arms as he pushed the wet hair from her forehead and framed her damp cheeks with his palms. He tilted her face up to his. “Fact is,” he told her, “I’d be the unmitigated disaster without you. Stay here. Save me.”

“Maybe we’ll save each other then.”

He kissed her and gloried in the way she kissed him in return. She held nothing back, and he reveled in the utter abandonment and total commitment of it.

“Aye,” he said, “I think we just might.”

“Y
ou’re going to have to drop the kilt.”

“I thought we’d agreed that it was more the illusion of nudity.”

Tessa rested her hands on top of her camera, keeping the tripod steady. “Honestly, Roan, you’d think I hadn’t already seen it all before.”

“That’s no’ the point now, really, is it?” Roan adjusted his stance and tried to keep the damn red cap from sliding down onto his face. The white ermine trim was shedding. “It’s about pride now, luv. I do have some, ye ken. Despite what this ridiculous cap would suggest.”

“You’ve got the claymore,” Shay noted. “It’s no’ like anything will show anyway.”

“Why are you even here?” Roan wanted to know.

“Creative consultant.”

He looked back to Tessa. “Really?”

She lifted a shoulder in mild apology, but he could see her fighting a smile.

That sort of back and forth had quickly become the norm for them, but they’d found it increasingly harder to keep a straight face for any real length of time. Usually their standoffs ended with neither of them standing at all.

Shay flipped open the folder. Again. “Their notes say that it was the whole mighty sword part they found the most interesting
and asked that you work it into at least one of the selections you send in. You’ve already got the other two, and … no sword. So, she’s right. Straighten the sword, man up, and ditch the plaid.”

“Don’t you have a border dispute or salacious French divorce case that needs your immediate attention? And Katie’s parents, has that been figured out?”

“Resolved the renegade sheep issue this morning. Katie’s parents don’t have a hope in hell of getting their daughter out of her marriage. And … uh … I have someone working on the preliminary research on the other thing.”

Shay’s uncustomary stutter caught Roan’s attention. Anything to prolong the disrobing. “Someone? Since when do you have a research assistant?”

Shay flipped open the folder again. “You’re losing daylight. We should wrap this up.” He looked up, his expression once again composed. “You’re already skirting the rules with”—he waved his finger between Roan and Tessa. “We don’t need to give them any reason to discredit your entry.”

“You said the contract only stated I needed to be an eligible bachelor when I first entered. They can’t own my life ad infinitum after that.”

“You have several launch events you’ll need to attend. You two can’t be … obvious.”

“We’ll be fine,” Tessa assured him. She crouched down behind the camera. “Okay, a little to the left. Move the sword just a … got it. Okay.” She fiddled with the settings. “Drop it.”

Roan swore under his breath … and let go of the plaid.

“I heard Blaine took off on the ferry yesterday,” Tessa said conversationally to Shay, as she ripped off a fast series of shots. “Okay, Mr. December.” She straightened and grinned, then shot Roan a rather saucy wink. “Your days of exposing yourself in public are officially over.” She glanced at Shay. “He wouldn’t be heading to Edinburgh, would he? Blaine, I mean.”

Suddenly Shay was looking at his watch. “I’ve got a conference call coming in. I should go. Glad we’ve wrapped this up.”
He glanced at Roan, who was making quick work of rewrapping his kilt. “Literally.”

“Everyone’s a comedian.” Roan tucked in the plaid, then pulled on his T-shirt and shrugged the old wool sweater back over his head. It was October and there was a distinct bite in the air. Thank God he didn’t have to prance around naked any longer. Outside, at any rate.

His thoughts strayed to the launch events. He wasn’t excited about them. One was in Glasgow, the other in Edinburgh. Tessa was coming with him, which helped. Tessa and room service. And indoor naked prancing. He wasn’t complaining about that part. It was what was coming afterward that made the launch events tolerable. They were planning a short trip from there so they could both do some preliminary research. In Malaysia.

His gaze shifted to her and he watched as she expertly packed her gear. And thought about the dinner they had planned later that evening. In bed.

They were rushing to get the photos done and digitally transposed onto the winter shots because he’d called in sick the past three days and … so … they were a wee bit behind on the deadline.

“I couldn’t speak for Blaine or his itinerary,” Shay said, shuffling the folders and making his escape toward his car.

“Well, since he seems to think he’s going to be in Edinburgh off and on for at least the next four to six weeks, we’re hoping it works out to meet up with him for dinner after the launch party. You want to join us? I mean … if you’re going to be heading there around the same time. For that divorce case.” Tessa brightened. “Hey, I know,” she called out to Shay’s rapidly retreating back. “You could bring your new research assistant.”

Roan walked over to her and hefted her tripod bag over his shoulder. “You really shouldn’t poke at him like that. It seems harmless, but it’s like prodding a sleeping bear. Fair warning.”

She looked at him and smiled. “We all know he’s using Blaine
to hunt up dirt on that French film actress—which is brilliant, by the way. I’m just trying to get him to own up to it. It’s so … dirty. And he could use a little dirtying up. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Speaking of dirtying up …” He waggled his eyebrows.

“If that’s your way of trying to get me to help you weed the garden, I think we learned our lesson two days ago when you told me what to cut and what to pull, and you lost your entire carrot crop.”

“I still dinnae see how you could possibly mistake a carrot top for a weed.”

“They’re both green, right?”

He nodded. “But—”

She shrugged. “There you have it. I can’t be expected to distinguish with my untrained eye.”

“That’s fine, because, actually, I was thinking that I’m feelin’ a bit faint again.” He made a face and patted his tummy.

“Aw. That poor, poor tender stomach of yours.” She tried not to grin, but there was no hiding the desire that brightened her blue eyes.

He tried not to grin. In anticipation. “Aye,” he said wanly, milking his performance. “It’s a miracle we were able to get the photos done at all, really.”

“You’re a downright superman, given your declining health, for spending yesterday converting that back stall—”

“Guest room.”

“Same thing—”

“Ye canno’ call them stalls.” He hoisted the claymore and they set off toward his lorry. “It’s a slight to all the hard work I put into making them guest rooms.”

“I’ll just call it my new darkroom,” she said with a cheeky grin and lifted up to buss him on his cheek.

They’d spent the entire last three days inside and around his house. He’d intended to just take one day to work on the photos they’d neglected the day before. But one day had become two, then suddenly he was telling Eliza he had the stomach flu.
Everyone knew, of course, that Tessa was staying on to help “nurse him back to health.” He didn’t care. Neither did anyone else. In fact, everyone they’d seen today had seemed quite delighted.

He didn’t regret a single minute, either. He and Tessa had taken that time to talk, learn more about each other, and, essentially, commit themselves to each other.

He stowed her gear in the back of the lorry. She leaned in next to him, shoved her gear in, then dropped a kiss on the side of his neck, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, before heading around to climb in the passenger side.

He straightened and closed the rear doors, quite well aware of the foolish grin on his face. She never ceased to amaze him. And he hoped that never changed. He found he didn’t so much mind her being a focused overachiever when he was the primary target.

He climbed in the cab and started up the engine. “How long do ye think it will take to doctor up this last shot?”

“It’s the most basic background of the three of them. An hour or two.”

“I was thinking I’d put together something for supper, and we could pack it and take it out to the cliffs.”

She slid a glance his way, and a sexy smile to go with it. “Will there be wine this time?”

“And a real, honest to goodness blanket.”

“Hmm. Sounds like a plan.” She folded her arms across her middle. “Of course, it is getting a little chilly, being later in the day.”

“True.”

“What if we spread the blanket in front of the fireplace in the main room? I mean, we wouldn’t want you to catch cold, what with your already weakened system and all.”