MacLarens of Balmorie 05 - Once Upon A Time In Scotland (14 page)

As she pushed the bike over the wet clumps of grass, slowly making her way to the base of the hill, headlights from the opposite direction flickered through the rain. And just in time, too, because as she hurried to flag the driver down, thunder rumbled far in the distance. Wiping her face again and peeling the wet strands of hair off her face, she recognized the familiar truck.

Nerves rushed over her and she cursed softly.

She wasn't ready to face him.

The truck slowed to a crawl, the sound of its wipers reaching her over the rain. The cold was forgotten, overtaken by apprehension as she pushed the bike forward. As soon as the vehicle stopped, Liam hurried out, ducking against the downpour. The man had no raincoat, his clothes becoming soaked in an instant.

As he reached for the bike,
Abbie
handed it over without a word. Once the bike was in the back of the truck, Liam snagged her hand and hurried to the passenger side, helping her in.

The rain was louder in the truck, hitting the roof hard and echoing in the small space as the wipers continued their sweep back and forth. Liam got in and immediately turned up the heat. She hadn't realized she was hugging herself and shaking. “Thanks.”

His nod was brief, his attention on the hill. She couldn't tell if he was frosty toward her or if he was simply focused on getting them out of the rain. Probably both. After all, he'd taken a risk, made an incredibly romantic gesture with the ribbon, and she hadn't been able to return the sentiment.

Abbie
clicked her seatbelt as Liam put the truck in four wheel drive and eased them toward the hill. They made it half way up before the tires started spinning and the truck began sliding to one side.

“
Shite
,” Liam muttered, putting his arm over the back of the seat and reversing carefully down the hill. Once they were on level ground, he let the truck idle and stared at hill with a deep frown.

“Sorry.” She felt miserable. For hurting him. For now.

He finally met her gaze, his lips twisting into a shadowed smile. “Not your fault. I wouldn't have made it up anyway.” With a sigh, he dragged a hand through his wet hair. His lashes were spiky, his eyes vivid, and his shirt was plastered against his body.

Abbie
swallowed. Liam
MacLaren
made wet look really, really good.

“So what now? Is there another way around?”

“No. And if we go back the direction I came, it'd take us back to Malcolm's and the way to his place is steeper than this.”

Abbie
had no idea who Malcolm was, but she definitely didn't want to play slip and slide on another hill. Waiting it out in the truck seemed like the only option. “Maybe it'll pass soon,” she said, hopefully.

“It won't. Weather is going to get much worse. It'll go on 'til morning.” Liam's sigh was heavy. He lifted his T-shirt to wipe the rain from his face.
Abbie
caught a flash of skin and looked away.

“Well,” he said after he was done, “we can stay in the truck all night or walk back to your cottage. It's the closest thing around.”

Abbie
was willing to brave the rain and thunder for the comforts of home. Her cottage wasn't far away and she was already soaked anyway. “I vote for my place.”

He seemed surprised by her decision. “Home it is.” He reversed the truck off the road and onto the grass. “We should make it before the brunt of the storm hits.” All business, he turned off the ignition, reached into the seat behind him, and handed her a rain coat. “Here, put this on.”

The thing was huge. As she pulled it on, he grabbed a backpack from the back seat and slung it over one shoulder. “Ready?”

With quick nods, they dashed outside and met in front of the truck. When Liam held out his hand, she didn't hesitate. He went slightly ahead of her, using his strength to tug her up the hill when the way became slick.

Once they crested the hill, the way became easier and soon they were in sight of the cottage.

* * *

Liam removed his muddy boots at the front door as
Abbie
stood under the eave, pulled off the rain coat, and gave it a shake before toeing off her sneakers and entering the cottage. He followed with a sense of reserve, shaking his head slightly at the odds; he hadn't thought he'd be back here so soon. In truth, all he'd wanted to do was go home, eat, shower, and fall into bed. Malcolm had worked him like a bloody dictator, which had been exactly what Liam had wanted to erase the sting of earlier.

And now he was right back where he began, standing inside the door and watching as
Abbie
hurried up the steps to get towels.

He set his pack down and ran a hand down his wet face. On the kitchen table was the ribbon he'd snagged from Fran's sewing room. It was folded neatly. He wasn't sure if that meant something bad or good. Or maybe it meant nothing at all.

“Here,”
Abbie
tossed a towel down the stairs. “I'm just going to rinse the mud off. Be right back.” And then she disappeared into the loft bathroom, no doubt peeling her wet clothes off and...

Redirecting his thoughts, he made use of the towel, then went to the kitchen phone to call the castle. Lucy picked up. He relayed the situation and asked for one of the lads to pick him up as they'd have no trouble getting from the castle to the cottage.

He was put on hold.

When a voice came back, it wasn't Lucy. “Hey Liam, it's Riley. I'm
really
sorry, but the guys are, ah, indisposed at the moment.”

“Really,” he said flatly, not believing her one bit. Probably because she hadn't bothered hiding the note of humor in her voice.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Is Hamish there?”

“Um . . . Nope. In
disposed
as well.”

Liam sighed heavily through the phone. “You know I can just walk.” Her matchmaking attempt could easily be circumvented. He rubbed the back of his neck, annoyed, as thunder shook the cottage. “Just send someone out to get me.”

“Fine. But you'll have to wait a little. Seriously, okay?”

“All right.”

“And, Liam?”

His sigh crackled the speaker. “What?”

She practically sang into the phone. “Have a great night.” The line went dead. Gritting his teeth, he set the phone down, wondering if he should start walking now because he had no idea if anyone would come or not. It was nearly dark outside and flashes of lightning lit the windows. The last thing he wanted was walk in the storm. In fact, he hated the sounds and the flashes...

Shoving the thought from his mind and ignoring what was happening outside, he went into the living room and started a fire.

Once the flames caught, he turned to find
Abbie
sitting on the steps watching him. She looked fresh and pretty with her wet hair and rosy skin.

“Since you fixed the heater, there's hot water left if you want to use the shower.”

Like his shirt, his trousers were soaked and mud caked the fabric to his knees. He had a clean shirt and trousers in his bag, which he always carried due to his job—on the farm with Jamie or construction with Dev, one learned to be prepared. “Thanks, but I'm going to head out.” The words taste bad on his tongue. Yet, he didn't want to crowd her or make a nuisance of himself, which might be how she viewed him after his display earlier.

Thunder rumbled again. “You're going to walk home in this,” she said in a dry tone.

“The castle isn't far.”

“Well, I'd rather you didn't. It's safer in here. There's fresh towels in the bathroom. We can probably figure out something for you to wear while your clothes dry...”

“I have clothes in my bag, b—”

“Great, it's settled then.” She rose and came down the final few steps. “I'll make us something to eat while you get cleaned up. Sound good?”

She stood in front of him with challenge and tension in her dark eyes. He might also add annoyed, jumpy, and uncomfortable to the list, which was brilliant—not exactly the things he wanted to inspire in her. With a nod, he went to the door, grabbed his bag, and headed upstairs.

Stripping, he tossed his wet clothes into the pile with hers and stepped into the shower. It smelled of peach-scented shampoo. “Perfect,” he muttered and turned on the spray. The hot water felt good on his cold skin. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, the scent—now synonymous with
Abbie
—bringing her image to mind with ease.
Abbie
lathering her hair, the suds sliding over smooth olive skin...

He grew hard in an instant, his slick, soapy hand gliding over his erection.

His heart gave an eager bang. But as much as he wanted to take the edge off, he wasn't going to jerk off in
Abbie's
shower. Gritting his teeth, he turned the water to cold and let it shock the lust right out of him.

When he was dried off and dressed, Liam threw their wet clothes into the laundry basket and took them downstairs to the small laundry room and started the wash. He walked barefoot into the kitchen as
Abbie
turned with two plates in hand. “I hope you like BLT's”

“Aye, thank you.” He took the plate and followed her into the living room.

With the fire going strong and the storm outside, the room seemed to be an island of warmth and isolation. And way too small to hold the tension between them.

Abbie
sat and then popped back up. “Forgot drinks.” She hurried from the room. He took a big bite of the sandwich, his stomach growling; he'd worked up an appetite at Malcolm's.

By the time she returned with two glasses and a pitcher of lemonade, he was almost done eating. She poured him a glass and laughed. “You want another one? There's more bacon.”

“Aye, that'd be fine. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

CHAPTER 15

As
Abbie
made Liam a second BLT, she tried to calm her nerves.

It'd be nice if she could control her attraction to the man. Every move he made, every expression, every breath he took was sexy. Well, until she'd glimpsed the hurt and tension in his eyes. It pained her to realize that her reaction earlier had honestly hurt him and now made him careful and reserved around her.

When she returned to the living room, she handed him the plate. He sat forward on the recliner as though ready to get up at a moment's notice. He thanked her and dug in.

She turned away and busied herself with poking at the fire. A loud lightning crack made her jump and the lights flickered. Over her shoulder, she met Liam's eyes. “That was close.”

He finished chewing and took a drink. “Aye. But it'll pass. You
dinna
care for storms?”

She sat on the ledge of the fire place. “Actually, I do.” She smiled. “Guess it's the whole dark-and-stormy-night thing.”

His first real smile appeared. “You've always liked mysteries?”

“Since I was a girl. Solving riddles, puzzles, who
dunnits
, crimes...”

“
'Tis
the challenge,” he said.

“Yes. The journey, the clues, putting the pieces together.”

“How's your work going?”

“It's picking up. I'll finish on time.” Which reminded her of poor
Bree
MacLaren
. “So your story about
Bree
...” she began, biting back a smile.