The Trouble with Scotland (28 page)

She kissed his chest as she quickly undid his kilt belt. He took care of her bra.

“Next time,” he said, his breath short. He unfastened his kilt and let it fall to the ground. “I promise, next time—”

“Shhh,” she said. “It's what I want, too. Now kiss me.”

He did. As he laid her on the bed, he reached for his sporran and retrieved what they needed. But instead of putting it on, he kissed her neck, then moved downward to her breasts, and lower still. He pulled her panties off and kissed her
there
. Again and again. She squirmed under his loving assault, and when she was sure she couldn't take it anymore, she pulled on his shoulders.

“Please, Ross. I need you now.”

He smiled up at her. “I like it when ye say
please.
”

“This is no teasing matter,” she complained.

“I know, luv. I know.” He put the condom on and positioned himself above her.

Impatient, she pulled him down to her, joining them.

“
Gawd
,” he groaned as he moved. “Sadie, ye feel so good.”

If she could've spoken, she would've said he felt good, too. But he'd primed her too much. He pulled out, and when he slid in the next time, she came.
Stars! Blinding lights! Fireworks!
She felt every cliché. She was so overcome she was afraid she might cry.

“Aww, lass,” he murmured into her hair. “Ye're so very beautiful.” He kissed her forehead and then her cheek. He pulled out. “Are you crying?”

“I'm okay.” She gripped his backside and pulled him close. “You made it happen too quickly.”

He chuckled as he withdrew a little ways. “I did?”

“Oh. Yes.” She liked her handhold, and met him halfway, lifting herself up as he came down to her. It felt so good. She began nibbling his neck. “Again.”

He obeyed, figuring out a rhythm they both enjoyed. Pretty soon, it was impossible for either one to talk.

And then he lost it. Once again, his out-of-control orgasm sent her over the top.

“Oh, Ross, I—I . . .” She bit her lip to keep from telling him everything that was in her heart. She loved him with all that she had. Telling herself not to fall for him had been fruitless. But she wouldn't have missed this moment for anything. To be with the man she loved, in his arms like this . . . she had so much love that it didn't matter that he didn't love her back.

When the quake subsided, he laid his forehead on hers. “That was amazing, lass.”

Then he moved to get up.

Instantly, she thought about how he'd vaulted from
her bed the last time and left her alone; surely he wouldn't do it again.

“I'll be right back,” he assured her. “Don't go anywhere.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling.

He left the room for only a minute, and then he was back, crawling into bed and handing her a small towel. He lay on his side and faced her. “So that was good for you then?”

She laughed. “You know it was. You're just fishing for compliments.”

His eyes twinkled. “And what am I, after all?”

“A fisherman.”

He stilled suddenly, becoming thoughtful, serious as if he was crossing a major roadblock. In the next second, a spark of happiness came over him. And then elation. He kissed her quickly. “
Gawd
, Sadie, that's it.”

“What's it?” She was still fuzzy-brained from their lovemaking.

“What I'm going to do for the rest of my life.” He rolled onto his back and stacked his hands behind his head.

She rolled into his side. “And what is that?”

He shot her a quick smile. “Ye know how I've been trying to figure out what I love?”

Her brain latched on to the word
love
. Her heart, too. But he wasn't talking about her.

“Don't ye see? I love to fish. I love my job. To the outside world, it may look as if I've settled, that I haven't moved from the same spot. But it doesn't matter. Being on the water and fishing for a living is the only life for me. Do you know how freeing it is to know that I don't
have to keep searching for a different career? I've had my dream job all along.”

She leaned up farther and kissed his lips. “I'm happy for you.” She'd found what she loved, too. She loved reading to people. Maybe she could start a reading service when she got back home.

She dropped her head on his chest. She didn't want to go home. She wanted this time with Ross to last forever.

He wrapped his arm around her. “Will ye go fishing with me in the morn?”

“With John and Robert and Samuel?”

“No. Just you and me. I want to share it with you. We'll take Ramsay's boat. I'm certain he doesn't have anything lined up.”

“All right. It sounds like fun.” But the sadness of her imminent departure still lingered. She cuddled into him even more closely.

He leaned down and gazed into her eyes. “Do ye know what else sounds like fun?”

“No. What?”

He rolled her on her back. “I guess I'll just have to show ye.” And he did.

They talked, laughed, and made love again . . . and again. Every extra second she spent with Ross, she fell deeper in love with him.

After dozing very little and before the sun rose, Ross helped her dress in a T-shirt and capris for a short fishing excursion.

“I know ye're tired, and
gawd
knows I'm exhausted from ye putting me through my paces all night.” He shook his head in wonder at her. “We'll only go out for
an hour or so, and then we'll come back and rest. Or find something more interesting to do.”

Thirty minutes later, out on the water and anchored in Pirate's Cove, Sadie learned that she loved fishing, too. Ross set her a chair next to his, and while he cast his line and waited, she basked in the sunshine and read one of her books, stopping every few pages to chat. Being together like that reminded her of her rock, where she'd relaxed, where she'd first begun to heal. She'd found such peace in Scotland, and all the while, Ross had been by her side.

On their fishing excursion, Ross didn't catch any fish big enough to keep, but he seemed content to have been out on the water with her.

When she started to yawn, he pulled anchor, rounded the bend, and docked the boat in Gandiegow. On the way to Thistle Glen Lodge, they kept up a conversation that seemed to have no beginning and no end.

Once inside, Ross took her hand, spun her to him, and kissed her like they'd been doing it forever. “Thank you for going with me, lass. I really enjoyed it.”

“Me, too.”

“I'm going to take a shower. Do ye want to join me?”

“Tempting. But I have to finish this chapter first.”

“Yere loss,” he said, laughing.

“I know. But save me some hot water.” She thought about the cold shower that he'd taken. “Please. I want to soak in the tub for a while.”

He smiled at her. “Sure.”

Sadie stretched out on the sofa and opened her book. Before she knew it, Ross was done.

He appeared in front of her in only his towel. “The tub's all yeres.”

She reached out and ran her hand along his calf. This playing house thing had its advantages. “Thanks.”

There was a knock at the door. Before Ross could head for the bedroom, or before it registered that Sadie should've moved her hand, the Inquisition marched in . . . Deydie, Oliver, and then Grace.

R
oss held onto his towel as Sadie dropped her hand from his calf and scrambled to sit up. His mother seemed more curious than scandalized, while Deydie clenched her fists, probably wishing she had her broom.

But it was Oliver who stormed forward and jabbed a finger at Ross's naked chest. “What are you doing here?”

Ross was at a disadvantage. A man needed his skivvies to argue effectively. “Excuse me while I find my clothes.” He glanced down at his shirt at his feet. His mum seemed to have seen it before him.

“Stay right there.” Oliver moved forward and yanked on Sadie's arm. “Go to your room.”

Ross tucked the towel in extra tight. “Ye'll unhand the lass. Now.”

Sadie unlatched herself, shooting a quick glance at Ross before lighting into her brother. “What gives you the right to come in here and tell me what to do?”

“Just tell me why he's here,” Oliver ground out.

Ross had had enough. “The only reason I'm here is to help
you
out.”

Instantly, Sadie spun on Ross. “What?”

Her hurt look made Ross wish he'd put it another way. He grimaced down at his towel, blaming his slipup on his lack of clothing.

It was easier to focus on Oliver than on Sadie's confusion—confusion that was fast turning to anger—so Ross glared at Oliver.

Oliver's attention was fully on him. “What do you mean,
help me out
?”

Ross looked to Deydie, but the old woman had gone mute. He wouldn't out her, but
dammit
, he didn't want to take the fall by himself either.

Oliver rounded on Deydie; “Do
you
know what's going on?”

Deydie's humped shoulders fell, but she wasn't one to look sorry for the things that she did; not for too long, anyway. “It could be that I talked Ross into keeping Sadie around. But I never told him to bring his toothbrush!” She glared at Ross for a long second and then turned a kinder face to Oliver. “I figured if
she stayed, you'd stay
.”

“Why would you want
me
to stay?” Oliver asked.

“Everyone likes ye, lad. You'll make a fine match for our Kirsty, and we need folks like ye in the community. Someone with skills. Like the computering.” Deydie seemed to genuinely care about Oliver. Ross had never heard her use such a gentle tone.

But he didn't have to see Sadie's face to know that, once again, Deydie's words had hurt the lass.

“Well . . . that's very kind,” Oliver said. “But what's that have to do with
him
taking advantage of my sister? I talked to Sadie myself about staying for another week, and she said she would. You see, there was no reason for
him
to be involved at all.”

It was Ross's turn to be a little peeved for being put in this situation. “The lass never said a word.” Why hadn't she? He cocked a brow at Sadie, but she avoided eye contact.

“Son,” his mum said, “go get dressed.”

But nothing has been resolved yet.
She was right, though. He needed to cool off, because he had no idea what he was going to do next.

*   *   *

Sadie watched Ross stalk from the living room. It felt more like he was exiting her life for good.
Playtime was over. Back to reality.

Shoulders sagging, she turned to her brother. “Why did you come here, Oliver?”

He was still frowning after Ross, but took a deep breath and said, “I stopped by earlier today to tell you the good news. When you weren't here, I went to Quilting Central to see if Deydie might know where to find you.”

Grace came forward and gave Sadie a quick hug. “I tagged along.”

“What
good news
?”

“Last night, I asked Kirsty to marry me. She said
yes.
We're engaged.”

Sadie didn't expect it to be so soon, but she should've. Everything always worked out perfectly for Oliver. She mustered up her good wishes, though it required digging deep. She stepped forward and hugged him. “Congratulations. I know you're going to have a great life together.”

“When you know, you know,” he said.

Ha,
Sadie thought.

“We're going to marry here in Scotland,” Oliver continued, “if that's all right with you.”

As if Sadie had any say in it. “Sounds fine.”

Ross returned, fully dressed, with his duffel bag in hand. Grace reached out and touched his arm as he passed. Then he was out the front door and gone.

Sadie felt as if her heart had gone with him. She was approaching numb. She was exhausted. She needed a shower. She needed the rest of them to leave.

Grace laid a hand on Deydie's shoulder to get her attention, but spoke to Sadie. “Ye look a little tired, lass. Do ye need to lie down for a bit?” She gave Oliver a motherly glance. “How about we let your sister rest?”

“Yes. I do need to lie down,” Sadie agreed. She also needed a vacation away from Gandiegow.

Oliver didn't budge; instead he bombarded her with concerned eyes.

“I'm okay, Ollie. Promise.”

“If you're sure.” He hesitated another second, but Grace laid a hand on his shoulder, too, guiding him away. “We'll talk later, sis. Okay?”

“Oliver,” Sadie called to him, before he got completely away. “I really am happy for you. And for Kirsty. She's a lucky woman.”

After they left, Sadie didn't sit down and have a good cry over Ross; life was too short for such indulgences, and she had too much to do. She went to the bedroom and stripped the sheets, intending to remove any evidence that Ross was ever here.

From the beginning, she'd known the measles thing was crap, but she'd played along with the charade. A part of her really thought Ross had come up with a crazy excuse to be near her, that he had feelings for her. But he'd only been doing what he'd been told to do . . . like
he'd been told to marry Pippa back in the day. Once again, he'd blindly gone along with what the town wanted of him.

Some things would never change. Ross would never change. And she was stupid for wanting to hang around to see if he would.

And in the next second, she knew she was responsible, too. If she'd told Ross the truth—that she'd already consented to stay for Oliver's sake—she could've saved herself a whole lot of heartache. Wanting Ross was self-destructive. She had enough damaging things going on in her life. She couldn't get rid of her bad kidneys just yet, but she could fix
this
problem.

She grabbed her phone and booked a flight, then ordered a taxi to pick her up. It would take a while to get out of Gandiegow. She would have plenty of time to shower and pack. She wouldn't stop by Quilting Central for Gigi's quilt; she could get it later, when she came back for Oliver's wedding. By then she would be stronger, have her head screwed on straight.

Sadie got everything in order and when it was time to meet the taxi, she rolled her suitcase to the parking lot. As the car pulled away from Gandiegow, she texted Oliver.

I've gone home. I'll be back for the wedding.

Then she shut off her phone.

Alone.
Exactly what she wanted. She needed solitude to grieve her most recent loss . . . Ross. She laid her head back on the seat and let the tears flow, hoping they would begin to wash away the pain.

*   *   *

Grace left Deydie at Quilting Central, feeling equal parts giddy and guilty. She couldn't tell anyone that she'd stayed up half of the night, talking with Gabriel's father, Casper MacGregor! She couldn't believe herself, carrying on like a young lass—laughing and enjoying his company . . . and a bit of whisky. She would probably see Casper again today. What would she say to him? Would their easy conversation of last night be easy in the light of day?

Grace worried over the upset she'd witnessed between Ross and Sadie at Thistle Glen Lodge, but those two would surely be okay.

She'd watched them at the wedding. They were so in love, so in tune with each other . . . as she and Alistair had been. She glanced down at the wedding band she was still wearing three years after her husband's death, and guilt, like the tide coming in, washed over her again. Alistair was the love of her life. So why did she feel a connection to Casper?

She shouldn't have spent all that time with him. She shouldn't have let him kiss her good night on the cheek either.
Nay, not night, morning.
She blushed, remembering. She was too old to have a little crush on Reverend Casper MacGregor.

Grace put her mind back on Ross and Sadie, regretting how disheartened the lass had looked when Ross left. Grace had stayed out of Ross's affairs, mostly, but maybe it was time to get involved again. She hurried to Ramsay and Kit's cottage, hoping to catch her daughter-in-law at home.

Kit answered the door before she had to knock twice.

“Are ye busy?” Grace asked.

Kit stepped aside. “Come on in.”

Their cottage was a small two bedroom, but it seemed to fit the sophisticated American lass just fine.

“I wanted to talk to ye about Ross and Sadie.”

Kit smiled brightly. “After seeing those two together yesterday, I was wondering what I could do for them, too.” She tilted her head to the side. “I fear I've been too pushy with Ross. I really should apologize.”

“I'm glad ye see what I see between him and Sadie. But they had a wee upset this morn. Maybe later today we could fix it so they both show up at the restaurant at the same time. They can have a private dinner to work things out. If one of them would say how they are feeling, then the other one would surely follow.”

Kit sat back. “You know Deydie's against Ross being with Sadie.”

“Deydie doesn't have to know what we're doing,” Grace said. “But if she becomes a problem, I'll talk to her. She can be reasonable.”

Kit guffawed with a grin. “Sometimes. But not very often.”

“So how do we get the two of them to play along?” Grace asked.

There was a knock at the door.

Kit walked across the room to get it.

Ross stood there with his hands in his pockets. “Can I speak with you?”

Kit laughed, stood back, and opened the door wider. “I'm popular today.”

Ross ducked his head and entered. When he looked up, he seemed shocked. “Mum?”

Grace rose and hugged her boy. “How are ye, Ross?”

He looked a bit haggard. The frown lines between his brows didn't belong there. She and Alistair had raised three wonderful sons, but this one was such a kind man. No wonder he would pick a woman whose soul matched his own.

He looked so uncomfortable. “I came to see . . . if I could hire Kit.” He wasn't just kind. He was smart, too. Smart enough to know when he needed help.

“I'll put some tea on, shall I?” Grace offered. “Ye two can sit at the table and talk.”

Kit took a chair at the dinette set that was perfect for two, maybe three, when she and Ramsay decided to start a family.

“First, Ross,” Kit started, “let me apologize. I didn't mean to harass you and browbeat you with that stream of bachelorettes. I was just worried. We all were. We were afraid you wouldn't get out there and look for your Mrs. Right.”

Ross paced, impatient. “All is forgiven. As long as ye help me.”

“Tell me exactly what it is you want. I don't want to assume anything this time,” Kit said.

The kettle whistled. Grace set mugs in front of them both, and put one on the counter for herself.

“I need help with Sadie.” He seemed both embarrassed and perplexed. “What is it ye call it? An introduction?”

Kit nodded.

“I need ye to set up an introduction for me and Sadie. That way, she'll know I'm serious.” He looked in his empty mug. “She puts herself down. Saying she isn't
pretty. But I think she's perfect.” He glanced up at the both of them. “Don't you?”

Grace laid a hand on his shoulder. “Aye. Verra much so.”

“Will ye help me, Kit?” He seemed a little desperate.

Before Kit could answer, another knock came; this one sounded angry.

Ross opened the door.

Oliver and Kirsty were on the other side, the lad's face as red as Kit's curtains.

“What the hell did you do to my sister?” Oliver's fist, like an avenging angel, shot out and connected with Ross's jaw.

*   *   *

“Oliver. Stop.” Kirsty pulled him back.

Ross didn't retaliate, which was best for the Yank, since he'd been fighting two brothers since he was the size of a midge. He rubbed his chin. Maybe on some level he deserved it. He should've told Sadie how he was feeling, though he couldn't put into words just yet what exactly that was. The only thing for certain was that he couldn't stop thinking of her. But he had to deal with Oliver first.

“I didn't do anything to yere sister.” But she'd certainly done a number on him.

“She's fragile,” Oliver said.

“Bullshit. She's tougher than you and me put together.” Ross sat in a chair and spoke to Oliver man-to-man. And he didn't care if the women in the room heard him or not. “She's certainly the only woman who's brought me to my knees.”

His mum came and stood by him.

“What do you mean?” Oliver said. Some of the fire was gone from his voice and his face, too. Kirsty was rubbing his arm, which seemed to calm him.

Ross pointed in the direction of the quilting dorm. “I didn't mean for this to happen.”

Tension filled Oliver's face again.

“I didn't want to meet someone special.” Ross glanced at Kit. “Which is one of the reasons I was less than thrilled about you setting me up with every woman within a fifty-kilometer radius. I wanted to play the field. But Sadie ruined it for me.” Ross was in agony. He couldn't have it both ways—his freedom and the lass. “I guess I'll just have to be with her.”