Hired By My Rich Highland Husband

Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

T he paper cup warmed Rowan’s palms as Max passed it into her hands. Steam curled between them, carrying the burnt-coffee smell unique to hospital vending machines.

He sat down on the chair beside her and gripped his drink, but his hands wouldn’t stay still.

‘You’re shaking,’ she said.

‘Side effect of driving through Scottish rain for hours.’

Her brain stalled. ‘Wait. Ollie’s at the hotel, so how did you—’

‘I took Slater’s Land Rover.’

The cup nearly slipped from her fingers. ‘You drove ? In a car? By yourself? The first time since—’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh God. Max.’ Her voice wavered on his name.

‘I had to be with you. Though hospitals still make me feel…’ His jaw worked. ‘Powerless.’

‘That’s so brave of you.’ The words edged out, quiet but firm.

‘I did it for you. Because you needed me.’

In that moment, she glimpsed the seventeen-year-old boy beneath the man.

‘I should have come with you yesterday, Rowan. Not sent Oliver. Not quoted contracts at you. Been here, holding your hand.’

The fluorescent lights washed him pale, emphasising the dark circles beneath his eyes.

‘Oh, aye. Not gonna fight you on that. You should’ve. But…I also shouldn’t have stormed off like that. Or ignored your texts. I was scared for my gran, yeah, but also…’ The truth lodged in her throat. ‘I was…scared of depending on you. That you’d let me down if I let you get any closer.’

His hand found hers again. ‘It was a family emergency. You were upset. You had to go.’

‘Aye, but I didn’t have to be such a weapons-grade harpy about it.’

A smile touched his lips. ‘Your meltdown had remarkable range.’

‘Och, fuck off.’ But warmth bloomed in her chest. ‘I’m trying to apologise here.’

‘I know.’ He bumped his knee against hers. ‘So am I.’

‘I shouldn’t have shut you out,’ she said and laced her fingers through his. ‘That was me being a coward. A weird mix of self-preservation and emotional overwhelm.’

‘No. You’re the most fearless person I know.’ His voice dropped lower. ‘I lied. To myself. About this being business. About us.’

Her pulse skipped. ‘Max—’

‘But I didn’t lie to Blackwood when I told him I knew you were the one the moment I saw you. I knew . That first day in the kitchen, when you stood there like you belonged. Like you weren’t scared of me, or this place, or any of it. And I…’ He swallowed hard. ‘I wanted to keep you.’

He gathered his thoughts. When he spoke again, his voice held a vulnerability that left her defences waving a white flag.

‘Let me be honest, Rowan. You terrify me.’

She laughed. ‘You’re a six-foot, uber-rich control freak and I terrify you?’

His thumb swept over her knuckles, tender and certain. ‘Because you see everything. Every wall, every mask. And you don’t look away.’

Tears pricked at her eyes.

‘You make me want things I never let myself want,’ he said.

Her stomach dipped. ‘Like what?’

‘Like hearing you sing in the shower. Like you on my desk, reminding me there’s more to life than work and money. Like—’ He hesitated, shook his head. ‘Like waking up next to you every day, knowing I get to fall for you all over again.’

His other hand found her cheek, fingers trailing like he needed to memorise the shape of her. ‘I love that you throw yourself into everything. Your work, your family, and every lost cause that crosses your path. You never hesitate. Even when it costs you.’

She made a small, broken sound.

‘I love that you dug through the Drummond past and found things everyone else chose to ignore. I love that you make people laugh, even when they’ve forgotten how. That you walk into any room and claim space like you were born to take up more of it than anyone else.’

‘Max—’

‘Still not finished. I had a long drive to think.’ A wry tilt of his mouth. ‘I love you because you make me brave.’ His voice wavered between confession and surrender. ‘Brave enough to get in a car. Brave enough to sit in this hospital. Brave enough to take on the trust. Brave enough to look at you right now and tell you…’ He took a breath. ‘…that I fell for you the second you trespassed into my life. Hard.’

A sob lodged between her ribs, trying to claw its way out.

‘I love how you make me believe I can be better, even when I don’t see it myself. I love you, Rowan Drummond. Not because of a contract. Not because of an arrangement. Because it’s you. It can only be you. I drove through a rainstorm because the thought of losing you was worse than thirteen years of fear. You’re the only wife I want. If you don’t… I…’ He leaned his forehead against hers. ‘Just let me love you. Please.’

A ragged breath escaped her. Then another. And then she was folding into him, his arms solid and certain around her.

‘Drummond, you absolute arse,’ she whispered against his neck. ‘Coming in here with your perfect speech and your perfect face, making me feel things.’

He huffed a soft laugh against her hair. ‘Ditto.’

She pulled back. ‘I had a plan, you know. Sulking until Tuesday, maybe some light forgiveness by Friday.’

Any trace of amusement slipped away as she felt the slight tremor in his hands from hours of gripping a steering wheel.

‘You seriously drove here. You faced everything, just to sit in this awful chair and drink disgusting battery acid coffee with me.’

‘For my wife? Worth every white-knuckled mile.’

Something inside her gave way, flooding her veins with warmth. ‘I’ve spent my life running and hiding,’ she admitted. ‘From feelings, from commitment, from anything that felt too real. But… For the first time… You make me want to stand still.’

‘As if you could ever—’

‘No. My turn.’ She pressed a finger to his lips. ‘I’m shite at this, but I need to say it properly. I love you, too, Maxwell Alexander Drummond, Laird of Dunmarach.’

Colour crept into his neck and face. And he stared. Like a man who’d never expected to hear those words and didn’t know what to do with them now. Like a fortress giving way to the siege.

‘I love that you’re a ruthless shark in the boardroom and with Blackwood, but so kind to Mrs Mac and Ollie. I love that you wear suits like chain mail, but let me see all your battle scars. Also, I love how you get really, really filthy when you’re turned on.’

A brisk inhale, almost a flinch. He raked a hand through his hair – flattered, embarrassed, or both.

‘I love that you see me and never once asked me to be smaller or quieter or anything less than who I am. And I love that you’re scared of the same things I am, Max. Letting people in. Trusting someone with your heart. But you do it anyway. With me, you do it anyway.’

A hot blur crept into her vision, but she blinked it away. ‘I’ve always been too much – too loud, too independent, too hungry. But you never tried to dull my edges. You…match them with your own.’

‘My fierce little fighter.’

‘You’re worth fighting for, Max. Worth loving.’

In that moment, surrounded by institutional beige and the beeping of medical devices, everything slotted into place.

Rowan smiled against his skin. ‘I love you,’ she said again because now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop. ‘Because somehow, in this mad world, we fit. We found each other.’

His kiss silenced her. Sweet enough to soothe, wild enough to leave her dizzy. When they broke apart, his smile could have illuminated Glasgow’s night sky.

‘Don’t let it get to your head, but you’re the only husband I ever want.’

He picked up his coffee and handed Rowan hers back. ‘Even when I colour code my socks?’

‘Don’t push it, Drummond.’

His laugh ran through her like a low current, and Rowan knew this was home. Max’s arms. This was where she belonged. Where she’d always belonged.

A soft sound from the bed drew their attention. Her gran stirred, eyelids blinking open. Her gaze flickered to the paper cup and then landed on Max. The confusion in her eyes gave way to joy.

‘Joe.’ Her voice was thin and brittle as a frail smile lit her face. ‘Ye finally came.’