Meet Me in Scotland (16 page)

“What's the verdict on the food?” she asked. “I'm hungry.”

“We struck out in the kitchen. They must've cleaned it all out after the retreat. I'll run and get you something.” Either at his place or the restaurant. “Let me get the fire going first. I don't want you to catch a chill.” He pulled a multicolored Diamond quilt off the chair and laid it over her bare legs, her tights still in his coat pocket from when she took them off at the hospital. He wasn't sure yet if he was giving them back—payment for his services.

In the fireplace, he piled wads of paper, twigs, and finally logs. When he held the struck match to the wood, the fire caught instantly. The bellows had it roaring within minutes. When he stood and turned around, she was smiling at him.

“What?”

“Nothing, really. You're very skilled and useful is all, Dr. MacGregor.”

“Aye.” What else could he say? He couldn't help but think about the fire he'd like to start between them right now. His lips on hers. Her lying back on the couch. Getting cozy and hot. He stood and backed away from her. “I'll find us some dinner.”

She looked surprised. “Us?”

“I have to eat, too, lass. Lugging you around has given me quite an appetite.” Grinning, he laid a quilt magazine in her lap, leaving her to chew on that thought.

Before he went to his place or the restaurant, he decided it was best to stop in at Quilting Central to let them know how the patient fared. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see the building was packed with Gandiegowans, two tables set up with food.

Deydie lumbered over to him. “I hear Amy is having a tough time with the baby. It's the colic, isn't it? Coll had it when he was a wee babe. His mama about went crazy
with him screaming like a banshee. I bet that was Amy's baby I heard last night. The poor thing sounded as if he were trapped in the fishing nets.”

Amy and Coll did have their hands full with the baby. He was indeed having an early and bad bout with colic.

Deydie slapped Gabe on the back. “Well, Doc, am I right?”

Claire rescued him by running over. “Is Emma back?”

“Aye. What is all this?” He motioned to the crowd. “Is there some town get-together I didn't know about?”

“No.” Claire paled.

Deydie took over for her. “Just an impromptu village potluck.”

“What about the restaurant?” he said pointedly to Claire. “Why is it closed? And where is Dom?”

“I don't know.” She slammed her hands on her hips. “And I don't care.”

He leaned close, trying to calm his anger. “Dominic is your husband. You'd better start acting like you care. I'm on your side about this whole baby thing, but I'm warning you: You'd better not screw up the good thing you and Dom have going.”

She frowned at him. “Mind yere own business.”

“What are ye going to do for baby William?” Deydie asked. “Any doctor worth his salt would know to put a colicky bairn on a boat. The rocking motion soothes the wee one, ye know.”

He sighed. “Deydie, no disrespect, but I can't discuss another patient with you. You know that. You wouldn't want me to discuss your ailments with—let's see—Mr. MacPherson?” He pointed to where MacPherson stood by the back wall.

She huffed. “I don't know what ye're talking about. I don't need a doctor at all. MacPherson's whisky fixes all of
my
ailments.” She stomped off.

He turned back to Claire. “Do you think Dom went back to my place?”

“Probably,” she said sheepishly.

“I'll go and check on him, after I get some food for Emma and myself. I assume as a working member of this community, I'm entitled to some of this potluck?”

“Aye, there's plenty,” she said.

“And just so you know, Emma is staying at Thistle Glen Lodge. You may come by tomorrow and see her.”
And not before.

“Fine. I have to get back to the flat and get to bed, anyway. The scones wait for no one.”

He'd heard her say it a hundred times over the years, but she'd never sounded so downcast. “You love each other. Fix things with Dominic.” That was the best prescription he could offer her.

He filled two plates and took them back to the quilting dorm. There he found Emma stretched out on the sofa, sifting through the magazine he'd left her. He set their plates on the coffee table and then gently propped a pillow under her foot. “I'll fix you a new ice pack. Then we'll eat.”

She reached for her plate and almost fell off the couch. “Whoa.”

He steadied her. “I said after I fix the ice pack. Ye're worse than a toddler when it comes to listening.”
But, God, she makes me smile
.

He brought back the refilled ice pack and settled her plate in her lap. He stopped her when she reached for her fork. “Not until we give thanks.” He took her hand.

“I'm not religious.” She looked down at their linked palms.

“It doesna matter. I am.” He bowed his head and said a few words.

When he looked up, her head was still bowed. She slowly lifted it and he let go of her hand. For a charged moment they gazed into each other's eyes. He broke away first and grabbed his plate.

They ate in silence with the fire crackling in the background. It sounded almost as if they'd put on mood music. It was nice. Nice to eat with someone instead of sitting alone at the restaurant or alone at his kitchen table.

When she was done, she set her fork on her plate and looked up at him. “You've done a wonderful job of taking care of me today. Thank you, Gabriel.”

He took a moment to soak her in and then finally answered, “It's been my pleasure.” It had been. But he'd better keep it on a professional level. “How does your ankle feel?”

“Do you want the stoic answer or the honest one?”

“Honest, always.” He saw the pinch between her eyebrows and he kicked himself for not watching for it sooner.

She frowned down at her foot. “It hurts a lot and is really starting to throb.”

He went to his jacket slung over the chair and pulled out the pain meds. “Here, take one of these.”

She swallowed it with a swig of water. “What about my crutches?”

“I'll run back to the Land Rover and get them. I'll also stop by Claire's to get your suitcase.” It should be easier to drag down the stairs than it had been lugging it up. “Plus, I need to find Dom.” With Emma's injury, Gabe had totally forgotten he was supposed to help with the lunch crowd. He also wanted to know what had happened, why the restaurant was closed. “Will you be okay on your own for a while?”

“The stoic answer—I'll be grand,” she said. “The honest answer—don't be long.”

He chuckled. “I'll refill your ice pack before I go.”

*   *   *

Gabe headed to the Land Rover and retrieved Emma's crutches, along with the red heels she'd had on earlier. He hurried to the flat and luckily caught Claire before she headed off to bed. Together they packed Emma's things in her suitcase. He didn't bother to question her any more about the restaurant. He'd talk to Dom and get to the truth. In a separate bag, he shoved all of Emma's inappropriate shoes.

He rushed to his place to make a quick stop and found Dom in his kitchen, drinking alone.

Gabe laid a hand on his shoulder. “What are you doing here? Why is the restaurant closed?”

“What I'm doing is celebrating my early retirement.” Dom downed his drink. “The dream is dead. No more customers means no more restaurant.”

“What do you mean,
no more customers
? You were swamped yesterday.”

Dom filled his glass and gave a mock toast. “Here today. Gone tomorrow.” He knocked it back.

“Go to bed,” Gabe said. “We'll figure this out in the morning.”

“There's nothing to figure out.” Dom stood and drifted from the room.

Gabe ran a hand through his hair, feeling like the problems were piling up. But one issue was settled. Somewhere between the hospital in Inverness and where he stood right now, he'd made up his mind. He couldn't leave Emma alone tonight.

He looked down at the sack he still held in his hand.
Emma's shoes.
This was one problem he could solve right now. He went to his bedroom and stowed her
damned shoes in the back of his closet. “She'll have to go through me to get these back.”

E
mma very much liked the pill that Gabriel had given her. Her ankle didn't hurt anymore and she felt all floaty and freer than ever. She scooted down farther on the couch and rested, enjoying the buzz. The next thing she knew, he had returned and had squatted down next to her, his face close.

“Are you feeling better?” he said in his Mr. Sexy Baritone voice. “Your face is relaxed, which tells me you are.”

She reached out and brushed the hair away from his eyes to get a better look. His eyes dilated. She liked the way he looked at her. And she didn't care that he made all women feel like this—special. “I feel great.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Unfortunately, she pulled him off balance, their lips crashing together for only a moment before he toppled over.

“Oops,” she giggled. “Did I hurt the doctor?”

He stood and scooped her up. “Off to bed with you.”

She laid her hand on his face. He had a five o'clock shadow and it intrigued her how it could feel both soft and prickly at the same time. She remembered her mother describing how pleasant stubble burn could feel
on the breasts. Emma started undoing the buttons on her dress to find out.

Gabriel stilled her hands with one of his. “What are you doing?”

She tried out Claire's purr on him. “Getting ready for bed, big guy.” Emma got her hands free and snaked them around him again, this time playing with the hair at the back of his neck with one hand and massaging his neck muscles with the other.
Mum was right—sluts do have all the fun
.

“Stop, Emma. You're going to hate yourself in the morning. That is, if you even remember.” He walked her into one of the bedrooms and deposited her on the double bed.

But before he could get away, she pulled him in for another kiss, murmuring into his mouth, “I need my big Scottish warrior.” Then she stopped talking and kissed the hell out of him. Oh, Lordy, how he reciprocated. She loved every second of their dreamy kiss and could feel down in her bones that he did, too. She wondered if this was real or not. Or was she just having another steamy dream about the doctor?

Gabriel pulled away, panting. “God, Emma.”

She fell back on the bed, satisfied that she'd gotten to him. “Go ahead and regret that kiss. I dare you.” She felt like she could say anything right now. “Join me. I'll scooch over for you.”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“You're gorgeous,” she said.

“You're not so bad yourself.” He took another step back. “I'll get the ice pack and put your crutches beside you.”

She laughed as he practically ran from the room. Maybe she could snag him again when he returned.

*   *   *

Gabe stood outside the bedroom, trying to regain his composure. “Dammit.” He couldn't deny that he was fully hard. He could deal with prim, proper, and uptight Emma, but he couldn't deal with her being the tempting seductress. She was acting like it was all a game. But he was done playing the field. And he would not fool around with Emma Castle. He just wouldn't. He was done with flings, going through the women on his Rolodex like it was a roulette wheel. He finally understood that sex, love, and intimacy were all connected and it did matter.

He retrieved her ice pack and crutches and snuck back into the bedroom. But he needn't have worried; she was passed out. He leaned the crutches beside the bed and stood over her. “What am I going to do with you?”

She sighed in her sleep.

If only she'd get called away tomorrow, go back to where she came from, and take her tempting body with her.

He lay on the dorm's sofa, staring up at the dark ceiling. He couldn't blame the sofa for his insomnia. He blamed Emma and his sex-deprived pecker. Claire could share a major portion of the blame, too. She's the one who'd invited Emma to come to Gandiegow to “regroup” in the first place. What the hell had she been thinking?

He decided that tomorrow after office hours he would go to Inverness for a change of scenery, talk to other people—just get away from Emma for a while. He had to regain his focus.

He tossed and turned on the dorm's sofa all night. It was hard, literally, with Emma down the hall. He rose early and met Dougal, their postie, opening up the General Store. Dougal had stepped in for Amy until she came back to run things. Which reminded Gabe, he needed to stop by and see how the MacTavish family
was doing before he headed out of town for his diversion.

“I'm here to buy boots,” Gabe announced.

Dougal glanced down at Gabe's feet. “Those not working for you?”

“Nay.” Gabe went to the end of the aisle to look for himself.

The postman followed him. “What size do you wear?”

“They aren't for me.” Gabe pulled Emma's red shoe from his pocket. “Do you know what size would fit these?”

Dougal eyed him suspiciously like the shoe belonged to him.

“Red's not my color,” Gabe deadpanned.

Dougal took the shoe and examined it. “Here, the size is on the inside.”

“Fine. Let's get a women's boot in that and some extra-heavy socks.” God, that woman frustrated him. It was so important to take care of one's feet. He'd give her the boots and be done with it.

Dougal pulled out a pair of boots and laid four pairs of socks on the counter. “Is that all?”

“I jolly well hope so.” Then Gabe thought about the hydrocodone hangover that Emma was likely to have. “I need chocolate, too.” Guessing it might help.

Dougal gave him a questioning look.

“Just ring it up.”

“Oh, Doc, I almost forgot.” Dougal dug in his postal bag. “A letter came for you.” He pulled it out and handed it over.

Gabe saw his father's perfect handwriting on the envelope. He shoved it in his pocket for later. In private. “What do I owe you?”

Dougal gave him the total and loaded the sack with the boots, socks, and chocolate. Gabe paid and got the
hell out of there. But before he left, he caught the strange look on Dougal's face.
Oh, the things I do for Emma. Watching out for her is turning out to be a full-time job.

At the doctor's quarters he grabbed eggs and butter from his refrigerator and a loaf of bread from the bread box. He only gave a cursory thought to Dom, wondering if he was up yet or not.

Next, he rushed over to Thistle Glen Lodge to leave Emma's boots there before she got up. He found her leaning over the counter, stirring sugar in her tea.

Nice ass,
he noticed. God, did he always have to be such a pig? He plunked the sack on the table. “For you.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “And that is?”

“Your prescription. I filled it for you.” He set the groceries on the counter.

“What prescription?”

He didn't answer but took her in from head to toe. “You look great.”

She barked a laugh of derision. “I feel like bloody hell.”

He pulled down a bowl and cracked the eggs into it. “For once you're not all polished and buttoned-up like a college professor.” She was different from every other woman he'd ever dated. And vastly different from the ideal lass he had in mind for his own happily-ever-after.

“What do you mean
all buttoned-up
?”

“I'm just saying that the rumpled look suits you.” His brain latched onto what it would feel like to rumple her himself by sharing a few days alone with her in his bed.

“Thanks for calling me rumpled. Your professional opinion means the world to me, makes me feel so much better.”

“Go sit down.” He popped bread into the toaster. “Do you want me to carry you to your chair?”

She sighed, exasperated. “I'm managing quite nicely—
thank you.” But she winced as she used her crutches to maneuver herself into a kitchen chair. “What kind of painkiller did you give me?”

“Yeah, you probably should think twice before taking hydrocodone again. You had a . . . strong reaction.”

As she stared at the tabletop, her cheeks tinged. “I don't remember a thing.”

“Sure you don't.”

“I have no idea what you're referring to.” Her eyes were on her lap, where she adjusted her dress.

“Fine.” He would ignore what had happened, too. “After we eat, I have office hours.” He moved the sack closer to her. “Come on. Check out your new medical equipment.”

As she took a drink of tea, she eyed the bag suspiciously. “It's too small for new crutches.”

“Just look inside.” He poured the eggs in the pan.

She opened the bag and pulled out the candy. “Chocolate? If this is some holistic medicine you're practicing, I approve.” She ripped open the wrapper and took a bite.

“You'll ruin your breakfast,” he said in vain as she nibbled some more. “Keep digging in that sack.”

She reached in and pulled out the shoe box. It slipped from her hand and spilled out on the floor. “Oh, these are sexy.” She held up one black boot, frowning at it. “
If you're a polar bear.
”

“Try it on your good foot. New socks are in the bottom, as well.”

She pulled out one pair of thick socks. “Seriously, Gabe, I appreciate the sentiment and all, but what kind of lady wears these?”

“A smart Highland lass, that's who.” The kind of lass he wanted. A woman with common sense. A girl who could be practical. He shot her a firm reprimanding glare, driving home the point.

“You mean the kind of woman who doesn't have an ounce of self-respect and doesn't care a whit how she looks.” She harrumphed, sounding very unladylike to him.

He softened up a bit. “Come on. Let's see if the boot fits.”

She pulled on one sock and one boot. “Well, it's warm. I'll give you that.”

He took the toast and slathered on butter. “Do you need a topper on your tea?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He poured more hot tea in her cup and set their plates on the table. When he sat down, she put her hand out to him. He stared at it for a long moment, confused.

“You always say grace, don't you?” she said matter-of-factly.

Stunned, he took her hand and said the prayer, and they dug in, sharing their meal, this one as companionable as the others.

Afterward, he cleaned their dishes, knowing she watched him. He spoke over his shoulder. “During my office hours, I'll ask the ladies to check in on you. You need to ice that ankle for ten minutes every hour. Tomorrow, we might start applying heat. We'll have to see.”

She got up on her crutches and hobbled into the living room. “Can you hand me my purse?”

“Sure.” He slipped on his coat, retrieved her purse, and gave it to her. “Can I get you anything else before I go?” He wouldn't see her again until tomorrow, and it bothered him to leave her like this. But she would be in good hands, and he had to get some distance from her. That kiss last night still hovered dangerously in the air, and he was afraid if he didn't get out of town, he would want to do it again. And again. Yes, hanging out at a pub in Inverness, maybe talking with some other women at the bar, or even catching a movie, would help to clear his
lust for Emma Castle from his mind. He had to screw his head on straight at all costs.

She pulled him back to reality.

“No, I'm fine. Thank you.” She had said it like she really meant it. “I don't need anything else.” She grabbed her phone and started checking her messages.

*   *   *

As Gabriel went out the front door, Emma read the message from Mattie's former therapist. “Well, I guess that settles that.” She texted back a note, slipped her phone in her pocket, and reached for her crutches. Today was her only chance to meet the therapist in person—five p.m. at the Bar None, a pub in Inverness. She rose clumsily on the crutches. She'd need every second between now and then to get ready and make it there, even though it was only nine in the morning.

She made it into the loo okay but almost toppled over, trying to take off her knickers. “Bugger that.” She had to be careful. She turned on the tap for the shower. What would Gabriel think if he had to come to her rescue again? But this time she'd be naked as the day she was born. She'd die of embarrassment—not only because he'd see her without a stitch on, but he'd probably carry her through the village that way and not give a care that her bare bum was on display for the townsfolk to see.

She wasn't brave like the slutty deb who'd taken advantage of Gabriel's lips last night. No. Egghead Emma was back, shy and awkward as ever.

But she had done it. She'd kissed him and it had been as hot and sexy as the first time. Even more so. He'd turned to putty in her hands, and she loved that feeling of controlling a man—not just any man, but Gabriel—taking him to the edge. And with that, her feeling of power turned on her and she went all squidgy on the inside, her middle melting into caramel.

She put her head under the water and tried to rinse
away the lust. That man did things to her that Emma had assumed were impossible. And she'd sure shown him that kissing each other wasn't just setting off a few firecrackers; it was more like Buckingham Palace's fireworks on New Year's Eve. She'd proved her point. Now what?

The truth hit her. Kissing him was like stepping into sunshine in the dead of winter, and she didn't want to stop. Ever. But Emma couldn't let herself be just another in the long line of women who had succumbed to Gabriel MacGregor's charms.

No. She was made of stronger stuff than that. She would slake her lust, but it wouldn't be with him. Maybe she could find a man in a nearby town—maybe in Inverness while she was there.

With her mind set, she finished her shower safely and dressed in a gray suit and black tights. While she blow-dried her hair, she wondered what had happened to her tights from yesterday. She'd probably lost them at the hospital.