MacLarens of Balmorie 05 - Once Upon A Time In Scotland (12 page)

“You're thinking ahead aren't you.” Then her eyes grew round. “Oh my God, are you pregnant?”

Riley laughed. “No. But after Jamie and I settle into the marriage, it's something we both want. Do you want more kids?”

“Logan is enough for me.” Which had always been her go to answer. But, maybe it was time to reconsider. Maybe everything with Liam, everything she was feeling was nothing more than life telling her it was time to hope again, to love again, to allow someone into her life. “I guess it's not out of the question. Though it might be harder than it sounds,” she added with a laugh, “seeing as most of the nice men I meet are either already married and, if they aren't, they don't seem to be interested in a single mother past her prime.”

“Oh please. Girl, you are
not
past your prime. You're gorgeous.”

And beauty was in the eye of the beholder. Even so,
Abbie
was pleased by Riley's words and loyalty.

“If you move here, you might find love again...”

“Says the girl seeing the world through love-tinted glass.”

Riley couldn't deny it, so she simply shrugged as she pulled off the road and drove up the short drive to the cottage. “Liam likes you, I can tell,” she ventured.

“And when I'm gone I'm sure he'll like another guest.”
Abbie
winced. It was a horrible thing to say and totally unfair.

“No.” Riley put the truck in park. “If you knew him, you'd know that's not true. He loves women and they love him, but he only seems to hang with the ones looking for a mutual good time and no strings. In fact, I'd say he's rather careful about it, from what I've noticed. There's more to him than what he shows the rest of us.” She angled in her seat, her expression honest and encouraging. “He's a good guy. And I see the way he watches you. I've never seen him do that before.”

A knot of sadness formed in her chest. “It doesn't matter, Riley.” Because a relationship with Liam had nowhere to go.

“Sure it does. You're here for another six weeks, right? Why not see where it leads?”

“Because it'd be pointless. There's an ocean between us. There's Logan and my parents to consider... I'm not a no strings kind of girl. In the end, it just wouldn't work.”

A small frown creased Riley's brow. “Well, don't look at the end. Look at the beginning and maybe things will figure themselves out. Remember what I said about us creating our own impossibilities. If you tell yourself it won't work, then it won't. And then you'll never know.”

Abbie
gave a grudging nod. She didn't want to hear it, even though her friend was right.

“Let's have lunch Thursday with Lucy and Kate,” Riley changed the subject. “They could use some girl time.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime. Sweet dreams,” Riley said wiggling her eyebrows.

Abbie
rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what her friend was talking about as she got out of the truck, waved goodbye, and then went inside. Trouble was, she probably
would
dream about Liam, and there sure as hell wouldn't be anything sweet about it.

CHAPTER 12

Liam sat at the bar in the pub and nursed his second glass of whisky. It was only noon. He should be about work and yet he'd found himself unable to move. Earlier, he'd driven around the loch after he and his cousins had had
words
with Ross about Harper. Liam had gotten an elbow to the nose, which had given him a killer headache. But, his stubborn brother was coming around. Ross had been angry and hurting, livid truth be told after he'd found out that Harper had never gotten his letter. And it warmed Liam's heart to see the big bastard on the edge of happiness. All he'd needed was a push.

Hopefully, this morning had made him think.

Hopefully, even now, Ross and Harper were coming to terms.

He swallowed the contents of the glass, thinking of the good-natured brawl that had ensued with his cousins and brother. They'd all given Ross advice, telling him to put his heart out there and take a chance, and here Liam was in the pub too bloody scared to knock on
Abbie's
door. He could only hope his cousins, and especially his brother, never found out he couldn't follow his own bloody advice.

“Another?” Graham asked, coming by with the bottle and setting it on the bar. The man's insightful eyes lit on Liam's nose. Graham grinned. “
Fightin
' this early in the day,
MacLaren
?”

“More like a family meeting of sorts. Head hurts like a mother...”

Graham filled Liam's glass. “Looks like a wee bruise
formin
' there on the bridge of your nose, but shouldn't detract from That Face.”

Liam gave him a flat look. The previous owner of the pub, Margie
MacDonall
, had long ago claimed Liam's face as a great beacon that attracted the lasses for miles around. “That face” she'd always say with a wink and a smile. And Graham
never
let him forget it. “I believe she said the same thing about you, if I'm not mistaken.”

Graham smiled. “Nah. You were The Face. I was The Body.”

Liam snorted, but shared a laugh. To Maggie, those two terms had been shared equally among them. “I miss auld Maggie,” Liam said.

“Aye. She was a fine lady. Now, why
dinna
you tell me what's really the matter?” Graham stuck the bar rag into the back pocket of his trousers and leaned on the counter behind him, crossing his arms over his chest.

Liam sighed heavily. He felt petulant and fidgety. Angry, too. He shook his head. “Off morning is all.”

“Looks more than off,” Graham said, eyes narrow and too damn insightful for his own good. “It's that lass, the black-haired one.”

He blinked in surprise. “You're a fucking psychic now?”

Graham shrugged. “Just a good observer. Saw you when they were here for Riley's party. When you picked them up. You looked at her
different
is all. And when she passed by, I swear you stood there for a couple seconds looking dazed and confused. And—”

“All right, you windbag, I get it.”

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

Liam stared into his empty glass and then gave a flat smile. “Well, right now, I'm avoiding, see. Add a wee bit of coward to the mix and you see where I'm at.”

“There's no' a coward's bone in your body, you big bastard.” Graham rolled his eyes. “Tabs on me,” he said as he went to the end of the bar to wait on two tourists who had just walked inside.

Liam didn't opt for another glass. He'd had enough. All he needed now was a few painkillers for his head and he'd get on with his day.

* * *

The knock on
Abbie's
door was firm, the sound echoing through the tiny cottage. She'd slept in and had only just dressed in yoga pants and a super soft T-shirt that had a cartoon sheep wearing the Scottish flag. Her hair was swept into a ponytail and she'd opted for her cute, black-rimmed eyeglasses instead of contacts.

The knock started again just as she opened the
dutch
door.

As she was pushing it open, a hand took hold of it. Liam stood there surrounded by a cloud of tension. The storm in his gaze shifted as he took in her appearance.

She swallowed as a hungry light came into his eyes.

“You wear glasses?” he asked, his voice sounding a little strangled.

Self conscious, she shrugged. “Well, yeah.”

He ran hand through his hair. “
Shite
.”

Abbie
frowned and stepped back. His jaw was tight, tension poured off him, and apparently he had some issue with her glasses.

“Damn it, I had a plan,
Abbie
,” he said with slight accusation. “And all this—” he waved a hand up and down to indicate her form— “and the glasses... Jesus.”

“Are you okay? Did you get into a fight?” she asked, noticing the bruise on the bridge of his nose.

He blinked. “What? No. Was just messing around with my cousins and brother. Can I come in?”

She hadn't spoken to him since their hot interlude in the woods and wasn't quite prepared for the impact of seeing him again, his wide shoulders filling the doorway, his T-shirt wrapped nicely around his chest and arms, and that face...

Abbie
unlatched the door. Impatient, Liam stepped inside. The air charged. Her heart cranked into high gear as he seemed to come to some decision and moved toward her. She stepped back, but he simply stepped with her through the kitchen, his eyes intense and hungry. Her back hit the wall. His hand slid around her jaw and cupped the back of her neck, his mouth coming down possessively.

Holy crap.

There was nothing slow about this kiss. It was full of raw need. His tongue was hot and demanding, his hold on her firm, his presence swallowing her up and leaving her breathless and dazed. “I swear to God I had a plan,” he managed. “But, your glasses...”

“My glasses?”

“Aye. You in glasses... Sexiest bloody thing I've ever seen. You,” he shook his head and released her, “do something to me. And, I'm fucking it all up.” He went to the counter and leaned against it. Nerves skated along her spine and suddenly she wasn't sure she wanted to hear what he had to say. He drew in a deep breath, his voice clear. “I came here to ask you to give us a chance.”

Oh.

Shell shocked, she stepped to one of the kitchen chairs and grabbed the back of it for support. “What do you mean?” she asked slowly.

“I mean I feel something for you. Attraction, aye. I think we both have that in spades. But it's more than that. For me,” he said honestly. “And I
dinna
want a great thing to pass me by without giving it a shot. Do you ken what I'm saying?”

No, no, no.
Why was he doing this?

“I have very strong feelings for you,
Abbie
. You're here for another six weeks. I want to spend those weeks with you. And I hope you want to spend them with me.”

She could barely breathe. It was like his words just sucked all the oxygen from the room. In her dreams, yes, this was what she wanted. Desperately. But this wasn't a dream. This was reality. “I have a life back home. I have a I
son
.” She was shaking her head, trying to work it out and only seeing the barriers. Only seeing that if she spent the time with him, she'd be so in love with him that her heart would break into pieces when she left.

“Aye, I know. I brought this.” He pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket. As it unraveled, she saw it was a long swath of tartan ribbon. “Lifted it from Fran's sewing room...” He rolled it around his hand and when he met her gaze, she was hit with the depth of his feelings.

Her mouth went dry.

“You know what this is?”

She could only nod. She knew exactly what it was and her heart felt like it was going to swell right out of her chest.

He stepped to her. “What I propose is this.” He reached down and grabbed her hand. “We make our own hand-fasting right here, right now. For the next month and a half. Not a promise to marry,” he assured her with a lop-sided smile, “but a promise to be open, to consider the possibility of an us at the end of it.” He held her hand, the ribbon in their palms between them, but he had yet to wrap it around, because he was waiting.

Waiting for an answer.

“You don't understand...” How could she make him see that six weeks of
them
, would end with her heart in pieces? How could she tell him that she was half in love with him already and having him for over a month all to herself would seal the deal? And then where would they be? She had a child to consider, a life back home... And she realized how unfair she'd been for kissing him and doing the things she'd done, her body and actions saying one thing while her mind said another.