MacLarens of Balmorie 05 - Once Upon A Time In Scotland (10 page)

She'd bolted.

Couldn't say that he blamed her. What had happened in the woods had been the complete opposite of what they'd discussed moments before on the pebble beach.

No doubt she was berating herself, just as he'd been doing ever since.

The memories and sensations still clung to him. While he enjoyed what women had to offer, he'd always been up front about his intentions and had always been in control.

Until tonight.

He'd been completely out of control in the woods, the need to touch
Abbie
like needing air to breathe, needing to connect with her on some level that was new and frightening. He wanted to know her in all ways, wanted to show her his world, who he really was, and he wanted to know hers. He wanted to see all the things that mattered to her. And even the idea of meeting her son didn't fill him with dread, it made him smile.

Aye. He was falling.

To back away from the edge of something great was against his make-up. When Liam came to an edge, he leapt off it with everything he had. That was his nature. But it had always been with the knowledge and certainty that he'd land on his feet.

This time, there was no certainty. This time, he was fairly sure he'd crash and burn.

Abbie
was right. It would hurt when she left.

CHAPTER 9

The next morning, Liam headed out to Malcolm's, glad to have the distraction rather than relive the events of last night over and over again. God knew, he'd done enough of that already. He sipped hot coffee from a travel mug as he navigated the muddy track, knowing his uncle would be surprised by the unexpected visit, and even more surprised by the offer Liam brought with him.

He wasn't sure who had come up with the name, The Great & Terrible, but he was guessing it had been Ross or Jamie when they were lads. The name had stuck and, over the years, it had eventually made its way to the village, so that anyone speaking or hearing the name knew exactly who the words referred to. It had become a title, and one that folks respected.

There was only ten years between Liam and Malcolm. And there had been a small window of time—before Malcolm outgrew them—when they'd all played together as lads. Even back then, Mal had earned his name. He was bigger and tougher and more confident than all the young
MacLaren
cousins combined.

Liam would have presented Ian's offer to Ross first and saved Malcolm for last, but Harper's appearance yesterday at the party had changed all that.

It had been great to see her. Harper had been kind to him as a lad, always giving him the time of day, gracing him with her smile and southern charm. One look at her on the steps yesterday, at the woman she'd become, and he'd known right then and there that his big brother was in for a massive wake-up call. And, aye, she might be in
Balmorie
looking for her father's lost bourbon-making recipes, but Liam knew there was a wealth of unresolved issues between them, so he'd leave his brother alone to deal with Harper and hope to hell they worked things out.

Liam took a drink and tried not to get his hopes too high. He wanted his brother back. Ross no longer seemed to find joy in anything, and Liam was bloody tired of trying to help and getting pushed away.

Harper was going to shake up Ross' life in a way Liam had never been able to do.

And that thought put him in a fine mood indeed as he navigated up the steep incline to Malcolm's crumbling pile of stones.

Liam parked and stepped out of the truck. As expected, Malcolm's pack came rushing around the side of the house, all five hounds with tongues lolling. Like a herd of deer they loped toward him on long gray legs. Liam braced himself as they crashed into him, bumping him back into the truck and surrounding him, demanding his attention.

“Aye, you crazy mutts. Cousin Liam is here.” He took turns rubbing and patting each massive Deerhound and then pushed through them to follow their path of origination around the stone wall, figuring if they were outside then the almighty Great & Terrible must be too.

The hounds stayed close, bumping his legs and trying to get their bony heads under his hands.

If he thought Ross was bad, Malcolm took the prize.

He'd been living on the small estate adjoining
Balmorie
, alone, in a crumbling pile of stone with his unruly hounds for company. Malcolm had effectively retired from social life and was a prime example of what Liam didn't want his brother becoming. Rarely did Mal show his face. And the only times he graced the family with his presence in the last year had been for a funeral, Ian's wedding—just the service, not the reception—and he'd gone to see Piper, Devin and Kate's baby girl. His rare visits to the village were always brief and, if he could, he had things delivered rather than leave the house. The only other time the village and the folks around
Balmorie
saw him was when he graced their local games with his big, burly, victorious presence.

Malcolm and the pile of stones that loomed over Liam as he walked had seen better days. His uncle was restoring a ruined abbey from the fifteenth century. Small by abbey standards, but large by any other. When it was finished, it'd be as large as a country manor. It was a huge undertaking, but Liam guessed it was Malcolm's way of working through issues concerning the death of his older brother. Whatever the reason, it was good to see the place being revived, but it did leave Liam wondering, at the end of the restoration, if Malcolm would at last find the peace he sought.

Malcolm was on the east side of the abbey. Tools and wood littered the stone floor, the area having been turned into a construction zone for the work going on inside. With his back to Liam, Malcolm sat on the crumbled stone wall with a window frame in his lap, sanding the wood. His shoulders were broad and his hair was to his shoulders. At six feet five, Malcolm was a force with a warrior's soul and a gruff exterior. He might be burly and anti-social, but he'd always been fair, so Liam hoped he'd at least hear the offer before refusing it outright.

As Liam stepped into the work area, he brought the wave of dogs with him. They bumped into a pile of lumber, sent an electric saw crashing to the ground, and turned over a box of nails.

“
FREEZE!
”

The dogs froze at Malcolm's deep command.

Liam froze, too, and grinned. Malcolm pointed and they trotted off the patio with their heads hung low, casting sad glances at Malcolm.

“Now ye can clean up the mess,” he told Liam as he went back to work.

Liam rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. As he knelt to scoop the nails back into the box, he said, “
Yer
as chipper as ever, ye auld sod,” he said, matching his uncle's thick brogue. “What's all that growing on
yer
face? Been watching Lord of the Rings again, have ye?”

As the youngest, Liam had always been able to get away with a lot more than anyone else. By his way of thinking, that made him honor bound to take advantage of it. Malcolm shot him a glare and the middle finger.

“Suppose ye are getting up there in age,” Liam continued, “and verra soon that beard will turn as white as Gandalf's.” He knew very well that Malcolm wasn't yet forty, and there wasn't a strand of gray in the man's beard; it'd stand out if there was since
Malcom's
hair was nearly black. In the shade, that is. In the sun, however, Malcolm's hair was the darkest shade of red Liam ever seen.

“What do ye want, ye wee
bairn
?” Malcolm growled and went back to sanding.

As Liam went around and fixed the things the dogs had destroyed, he told Malcolm about Ian's plans. “You have two empty cottages along the border with
Balmorie
that Dev and I can restore without too much cost.”

“Aye and who's about
footin
' that bill because it
willna
be me.”

“Ian will take care of everything. The restoration costs, the maintenance, and the rentals. You
dinna
have to do anything except grant permission and share in the profits.”

Malcolm grunted and continued sanding. Liam knew the man didn't want
anyone
on his property, much less tourists, but he also knew that restoring something as big as the abbey cost more money than Malcolm had.

“Just the two, ye say?”

Liam wanted to answer in the affirmative, but he'd come with Ian's request and he wasn't going to change it. He cleared his throat. “Aye, and the crofter's cottage on the west brae.”

Malcolm went still, lifted his head slowly, and pierced Liam with a black look. “No.”

And even though Liam knew the reason why, he also knew it was long past due his uncle moved on. “
Tis
empty and in need of repair.”

“Aye, but it's too close to the abbey.” He started sanding the wood again. “Last bloody thing I need
ta
see from my window is some family of tourists
wanderin
' about.”

“Ever hear of curtains?”

Malcolm's green eyes flashed, but it didn't bother Liam in the least. He did enjoy rousing the beast every once in a while. “That crofter will bring in double of the other two. Think about it. From the looks of all that ancient wiring I saw out front, you can use the funds to rewire the place.”

“Can use funds now if ye got any
ta
spare,” he replied dryly. “Rewiring is done, ye brat.
So's
the
plumbin
'.”

Liam leaned against the pile of lumber. “When do you think this auld place will be finished?”

Mal glanced up at the high stone walls and the tall arched windows, his chest rising and falling with a deep sigh. “Sometimes it feels like never,” he said honestly.

As gruff and dangerous as Malcolm appeared, Liam saw the weight and weariness in the man's eyes. “I can lend a hand if that'd suit.” He wanted to help, but he also saw the silver lining. The more he stayed busy, the less he'd run into
Abbie
or think about her.

Malcolm frowned and stared at him with a suspicious eye. “
Dinna
get many offers of the like, lad,” he said slowly. “I
canna
pay.”

“Aye. I can see that.” He rolled his eyes. “You're family. Mum's favorite the way she told it.”

A rare half smile appeared through the dark beard. “
Yer
mum said that about each of us,” he said, referring to him and his elder brother. Even after all these years it still pained Liam to think about the circumstances of Robbie's death and the effect it had on the entire family. But no one more so than Malcolm.

Robbie and Malcolm's young wife had engaged in an affair. Cathy had felt so guilty and was so horrified when Malcolm caught them that a week later, she'd tried to kill herself. Robbie had found her just in time to lunge for the gun. In the struggle, he'd been shot in the stomach. Robert
MacLaren
had died on the way to the hospital. In the span of a week, Malcolm had been betrayed in the worst way possible by his brother and his wife. And then he'd lost his brother.

“Send Ian up with the agreements, and I'll let the two cottages on the border. The other...I'll think on.”

“Sounds good enough to me.”

Liam pushed off the lumber pile.

“Have ye eaten yet, lad?”

Liam stopped, stunned by the question. Malcolm wasn't known for inviting anyone to spend time with him. Quickly, he shook the astonishment away and said no even though he'd had a huge breakfast in Fran's kitchen just before driving to the abbey.

Malcolm rose, setting the frame down and then walking into the restored part of the abbey.

Liam smiled and shook his head before following his uncle inside.

CHAPTER 10

A few days had passed since
Abbie
dropped to her knees in front of Liam
MacLaren
and done something she hadn't done in four years. Every time she thought about it, her cheeks went hot. The man had totally upended her good sense. Her modesty. Her focus. Her purpose. Everything. She hadn't flown all the way to Scotland to give out blow jobs, for God's sake.