The MacGregor Grooms (32 page)

“I know. I’ve watched it all my life. I won’t take anything less. Give anything less.” He dragged his hands through his hair. “I’m giving her some time, some room. She has to know what she wants.”

“And she doesn’t? You’ve asked her?”

With a long breath, Ian sat again. “She’d never been with anyone before me.”

“I see.” Considering, Caine studied his own hands. “Did you seduce her?”

“No, I backed off. It had to be her decision—she had to feel ready. What else could I do?”

“Nothing, being you. Now it worries you, the fact that you’re the only one who’s touched her.”

“I thought I had a handle on it. But it’s not just that she hadn’t had sex. She hadn’t had
anything
. Anyone. All at once she’s standing there telling me that she’s a fraud, that I’m only attracted to her because she’d developed this new image. And it all comes tumbling out of her. She tells me she was pudgy and plain, that she hid behind that, because she didn’t feel she measured up to the rest of her family. She’s barely even dated, never had a chance to see or experience anything. She’s just starting to realize her own capabilities, her own powers, and there I am ready to scoop her up, tuck her into marriage, children, the whole deal before she’s even seen what’s out there.”

“So … you told her you loved her enough to give her that chance?”

“If I’d told her I loved her she wouldn’t have listened to the rest.” He brooded over that fact. “She thinks she’s in love with me.”

“Only thinks?”

“How the hell would she know?” Ian tossed up his hands and pushed himself out of the chair again.

“Interesting question. How do you know you’re in love with her?”

“Because I’ve never wanted to spend my life with anyone else. Because I can see how it could be with us in a year, in ten years. In fifty.” He circled the room, then stopped in front of his father. “You can see I’m right, can’t you? It wouldn’t be fair to take advantage this way, to ask her to marry me before she’d had time to live a little more.”

“Does it matter what I think?”

“Of course it does.”

“Then I’ll tell you.” Caine rose, laid a hand on his only son’s shoulder. “You’re a pinhead.”

“What?”

“As much as it pains me to agree with The MacGregor on this, I have no choice. You’re a pinhead, Ian. You’re not giving the woman you claim to love nearly enough credit to know her own mind and heart. You’re making a decision for her you have no right to make. And it’s my considered opinion, though it again pains me to echo my father, that your best course of action is to go get the girl.”

*   *   *

He wasn’t convinced the men in his family were right, but Ian planted himself in front of Naomi’s door in her apartment building and waited for her to get home.

He considered going to the bookstore, but discarded the idea. If they were going to discuss their future, it shouldn’t be done in a place of business.

Yet, as the hour grew later, he began to worry that he’d taken the wrong tack. At least he’d have found her in the bookstore. Now he didn’t know where the devil she was.

So when he heard her footsteps on the stairs, he sprang to his feet.

She stopped dead in the hallway when she spotted him, then shifted her briefcase from one hand to the other and came forward.

“Hello, Ian.”

“You worked late.” She wore the same scent. That same wonderful scent.

“Yes, I did.” She took her keys out, slipped them into the lock.

“I’d like to talk to you. Can I come in?”

“Now’s not a good time.” It would never, ever be a good time, when just seeing him hurt this much.

“Please.” He braced a hand on the door to keep it open. “Naomi, we need to talk.”

“All right.” She could handle it. She’d promised herself she could. “But you’ll have to make it quick. I need to change.”

“For what?”

“I have a date.” It was a terrible lie, one she was sure she would be ashamed of later. But for now pride was much more vital than honesty.

“With a man?”

The absolute shock on his face had that pride rearing up and showing teeth. “I tried dating baboons, but we didn’t like the same films.” Moving briskly, she set her briefcase aside, hung up her coat. “What can I do for you?”

Marry me, bear my children. “I didn’t make myself clear the other night.”

“Oh, I think you did.”

“No, I didn’t explain to you the what, or why.”

“I understood perfectly.” And she wanted to hate herself, and him as well, because she was so pathetically in love with him. “I told you that what you saw when you looked at me wasn’t what was underneath. You agreed, and that was it.”

“No, I—God, is that what you thought? Naomi, I’m sorry.” He reached for her. She stepped back. “That’s completely wrong. I handled it badly. Let me explain.”

“I’m a little pressed for time, Ian.”

“Your date will just have to wait,” he snapped, and jamming his hands in his pockets, stalked around the room while she lifted her eyebrows and watched him. “After you’d finished, after you told me you’d never been with anyone …”

“You knew I’d never been with anyone.”

“I don’t mean just the sex!” He all but snarled it this time, and had her eyes narrowing. “God. Sex is just a part of things. There’s companionship, there’s fun, there’s sitting around talking half the night, watching bad movies. All the things you do when you’re dating. The things you’ve never done with anyone but me.”

Certain he was under control again, he turned back to her. “I wanted to give you time so that you could think it through, so you could be sure you wanted to keep doing all those things with only me.”

“Give me time?” She wished she could come up with one of those cold, go-to-hell laughs, but only managed a derisive snort. “You told me you wanted to see other women to give me time?”

“I never wanted to see other women!” He shouted it at her, then yanked his temper back. “I thought you should see other men. Which, I can point out, you don’t seem to have much of a damn problem with.”

“You wanted me to see other men,” she said slowly, staring at him.

“It’s not what I wanted—are you insane?” His eyes went to a bright and burning blue. “It’s what you needed. How the hell could I ask you to marry me when you didn’t have a single point of reference? Nothing to compare what you thought you felt for me to? I was trying to be fair to you.”

“Fair to me?
Fair
to me?” Fury danced over her shattered heart, gleefully scattering pieces. “You decided what was right for me, and that was to break my heart?”

“No, to protect it. To protect you.”

“From what? From you? From myself? How dare you make those decisions for me.”

“I didn’t. Exactly.” He could feel himself slipping down a very big hole. “I only wanted to … Maybe I should take the Fifth,” he muttered.

“Oh, I could hit you. I could actually hit you.” She had to turn away before she did. Violence was a new and unstable emotion rushing through her. “I’ve never hit anyone in my life, but boy, I could. I wonder how it would feel. Damn it, don’t touch me,” she warned when she sensed him moving in her direction. “Or I’ll find out how it feels.”

Since he’d only heard her use the mildest oaths a handful of times since he’d met her, it became clear just how angry she was. “Naomi—”

She whirled back before he could get another word out. “You must think I’m a moron.”

“Of course I don’t. I only—”

“A poor, pitiful excuse for a female who can’t trust her own mind, her own heart.” She stalked around the room, her movements as stormy as her eyes. “I suppose the only way I’d know if I loved you was to have wild sex with a dozen other men first. Or two dozen? What number did you have in mind?”

“I don’t want you having sex with anyone!”

“Oh, that’s right. It’s not about sex. Well, let me get something to write on and you can explain to me exactly how many romantic dinners, late night dates, drives in the country or whatever I’m to have before I can be considered competent enough to decide what to think and feel.”

She’d actually opened her briefcase and taken out a pad before his temper frayed the rest of the way. “Okay, that’s it. That’s enough.” He snatched the pad out of her hand, heaved it. “I don’t give a damn what’s fair to you or what isn’t. I’m not spending the next six months waiting until you’ve had your little fling.”

“Six months. Was that the cutoff? You certainly had it all worked out, didn’t you?” Joy was bubbling up along with the fury. The combination made her feel dizzy. And it made her feel powerful. “Well, maybe I’ll see you in April then.”

She started for the door, intending to fling it wide. And ended up with her back against it and Ian’s furious face close to hers.

She’d done that, she thought with a rush of wonder and delight as they glared at each other. She’d made him so angry he was snarling. She’d made him love her until he was all but incoherent with it.

As clumsy as she was, she realized. How perfectly wonderful.

And she’d done it by doing nothing more than being who she was.

“I said forget it.” He grasped her hand. “You can just forget all of it. I’m not living without you. Not for six months, not for six damn hours. You’re going to marry me, and if you figure out later it moved along a little too fast for you, that’ll be your hard luck.”

“All right, fine.”

“And you might as well pack your things right now, because—”

His mouth opened and closed, giving her the first glimpse of what it was like to completely stun Ian MacGregor. It was, she decided, a marvelous feeling.

“All right, fine?” he managed.

“Yes.” Riding on the new crest of power, she grabbed him by the lapels. “You idiot.” And pulled his mouth down to hers.

He reeled with the impact, snatching her up, holding her hard against him so their hearts beat strongly, one against the other. “Just recently, the correct affectionate family term is
pinhead
.”

“Pinhead,” she murmured, delirious with love. “I’m so angry with you.” Her mouth raced over his face, came back to cling to his.

“I know. I can tell.” He chewed restlessly on her top lip. “Go on and stay mad for a while. I deserve it.”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Naomi.” He caught her face in his hands, drew back so she could see his eyes. “I love you.”

She closed her eyes, wallowing in the warm flood of emotions that streamed through her. Then opening them, looked into his and smiled. “Say it again. Just like that, would you?”

He kissed her first—her brow, her cheeks, her lips. “I love you, Naomi. It’s not just the way you look—though God, you look good. It’s the way you are. It’s everything you are. I started falling the minute I saw you, and I haven’t stopped yet.”

“So did I, in exactly the same way, for exactly the same reasons. Oh, Ian, I’ve been so unhappy without you.”

“Maybe it’ll help to know I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since you left.”

“It does.” Her lips curved when he laughed. “I hope you suffered. And I’ll remind you of how much you suffered the next time you try to decide what’s best for me.”

He combed his fingers through her hair. “I’m what’s best for you.”

“Yes.” She rested her head on his shoulder, wondering why she’d ever questioned how perfectly it would fit there. “Yes, and as it happens, I’m what’s best for you. I want our life together, Ian.”

“Let’s go home then, and get started on it.”

From the Private Memoirs

of

Daniel Duncan MacGregor

They say as a man grows old his memories of years past stay clear as crystal while those of last week fade into the fog.

I still remember, like yesterday, the first time I saw my Anna. Oh, I remember that cool, disinterested look she gave me. Hah. Didn’t stay disinterested for long, now did she? I was a young man then, full of piss and vinegar. A big strapping man from Scotland at a fancy society dance where I’d gone hunting for a woman to take to wife.

And there was Anna, in her pretty blue dress. She was mine from the first minute—though it took some time to convince her of it.

I remember that night as if it just happened. The lights, the music, the colors. I remember the scent in the air when I brought Anna here to this cliffside where I would build the house we’d live in. And I remember the feel of the earth in my hands when I planted a young sapling to celebrate the birth of my first son. So they’re right in that. The memory of an old man is long.

But I remember last week just as clear, so what the hell do they know?

My grandson took him a wife last week. And I can tell you the scents in the air of the church, the colors of the light that streamed through the windows, the full rich sound of the music that swelled when little Naomi stood at the back in her glittering white gown, with a bit of MacGregor tartan showing and the MacGregor veil covering her shining black hair.

Brides glow. They say that as well. And so she did. It’s love that brings that shining beauty to a woman’s face. And one more in love I’ve yet to see.

And Ian, handsome as a prince as he waited for her. They don’t say a man glows, but perhaps they should. I can’t think of another word for the look on his face as he watched her walk to him.

And not being such a pinhead after all, what did he do? He took her hand and the other as well, and as the music died off, and before the priest could open his mouth to start the business of it, Ian said, “I love you, Naomi,” his voice as clear and strong as the bells that rang after the deed was done.

And if there was a dry eye in the whole of the church at that moment, well, it wasn’t Daniel MacGregor’s.

It’s been a good year for the family. With three weddings and a baby. I’ve done my best, and my best is better than most. Now the year’s nearly done. I’ll watch the snow fall awhile, and sit with Anna by the fire and listen to the wind howl at the windows.

And if I do a bit of planning, a bit of plotting while I sit with my feet up and a glass of whiskey in my hand, what’s wrong with that?

There’s another year coming, after all. And I’ve more grandchildren yet.