Chapter 10 #2
“And you can’t seem to decide if you want to keep me or pitch me. I didn’t ask for a rescue, you offered. I didn’t ask you to kiss me. I didn’t ask for any of these weird, otherworldly kind of kooky things I feel every time I look at you or touch you—”
“Otherworldly—”
She glared at him.
He shut his mouth.
“Fish or cut bait, buddy, because I’ve got a list and you’re getting in the way of it.”
He felt his jaw slide down. “Fish or cut bait?”
She struggled to her feet, a vision of irritation in lime. “Make up your mind. I’m going to go take a walk along the beach, then I’m going to come back and take control of my life with a few well-written lists. And if you ditch me here, I will sue you for breach of contract.”
“Breach of contract?”
“Comfort. Necessities. You, Sir Gallant, have a very short memory.”
And with that, she took herself and her lime trousers and hitched her way toward the water.
Patrick watched her go. He continued to watch as she slowly made her way to the water and walked right in.’Twas a mercy her trousers were so short, for he seriously doubted she could have leaned over to roll them up. He should have been there to do it for her.
He rubbed his hand over his face, took a deep breath, and made a decision.
So she disturbed him. That was no reason to chasten her for it.
And there was also no use in denying the fact that he’d come to Roddy’s that morning because he wanted to see her, wanted to be there to rescue her when she learned Bentley had stranded her.
He hadn’t been obligated to bring her to the shore.
He’d done it willingly. And he hadn’t been bloody obligated to kiss her senseless.
He’d done it, the saints pity him, because he wanted to.
But that didn’t mean he had to propose marriage.
It didn’t mean that at all.
He could, he decided with an unwholesome bit of relief, just enjoy her company for the day and leave that kiss as a delightful memory.
So he left his shoes, his socks, and his pride behind and followed Madelyn down to the water. An apology was in the offing and he wasn’t above giving it. He approached as she was standing with her feet in the water, facing the west.
She was weeping.
It wasn’t loud, but it was sloppy. He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Oh, no,” she said, hiccupping, “not you again.”
He turned her around and drew her into his arms. He fully expected her to collapse against him and bawl until she was ill, but she didn’t. She took two great gulps of air, patted him a handful of times on the back, then pulled away and dragged her sleeve across her face.
“Thanks,” she said. “Very helpful.”
He wondered if he was losing his abilities with women in general or if it was only this one who was beyond his skill.
“You needn’t stop on my account,” he offered. “I’m wearing wool. It dries quickly.”
“I’m fine,” she said, nodding enthusiastically. “Really. Momentary lapse of . . . well, something. But I’m fine now.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m fine,” she repeated.
“But—”
“Look,” she said, meeting his eyes, “if I don’t hold it together right now, I’ll really lose it. I’m tenuous, but not completely threadbare.”
He found himself with his hands on her shoulders. And once they were there, there was no sense in not reaching up with one hand and tucking a bit of hair behind her ear now, was there?
And once he’d done that, there wasn’t any use in not leaning over and kissing the tears gently from one eye, then the other.
Was there?
He pulled back and looked down at her. She looked at him briefly before she closed her eyes and bowed her head. He drew her, unresisting into his arms.
“I don’t want to lose it,” she whispered.
“You won’t.”
“I’m a woman on the edge.”
“I’ll keep hold of your shirttails, that you don’t fall.”
She hiccuped a sort of half-laugh, then pulled back to look up at him. “I just don’t know how to take you. Or even if I should.”
“I understand, completely.”
“Then what are we going to do?”
He brushed away more tears from under her eyes with his thumbs. “We’re going to walk along the shore until it tires you. We’re going to have a fine lunch. You’re going to look over the map. We might have a nap.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
He reached down and took her hand. “I know. What do you think we should do?”
She looked away. “I don’t know. Make a list, I suppose.”
Just touching her was starting to become a distraction.
He’d never felt anything like it in his life.
It was Culloden again, a faint echo of that awareness, and very unsettling indeed.
“You know,” he said lightly, “I have a hidden affinity for lists. Make them all the time.” So he’d never made one in his life.
Whatever he had to do for the cause, he supposed.
She looked up at him and smiled. “You liar.”
The sight almost took his breath away. Well, at least it was taking his mind off touching her. He drew her hand through his arm and started along the shore. “How do you know?”
“It’s my business to know when people perjure themselves. It’s one thing I’m never wrong about. But it wasn’t just that you don’t lie very well. I imagine you don’t make lists because your priorities are quite straightforward.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “And those would be?”
“Fast cars. Good food. No drink.”
Frightening. “You might be right,” he conceded.
“I don’t know about women.” She stopped so suddenly, she almost pulled him off his feet. “You aren’t married, are you?”
He flinched. He didn’t mean to, but he hadn’t expected her question. “Not anymore,” he said.
“Divorce?”
He wondered why he was having such trouble breathing. “You are relentless, aren’t you?”
“Curious. Pain is easier if you get it over with quickly.”
He wanted to sit down. “I wonder if you’ve any idea what you’re talking about.”
“I do, but just in little doses. I’d say yours was a big dose and one you don’t really want to talk about.”
“She wanted to divorce me,” he said in as matter-a-fact a tone as he could manage, “but she died first.”
“I see,” she said softly.
“She was pregnant.”
“Oh, Patrick,” she whispered.
By the saints, was he going to weep now? He put his shoulders back. “It’s over. It was several years ago.”
“But you still miss her.”
He looked at her in surprise. “By the saints, nay. Not her.”
“I see.”
He suspected she did. “Well, that was diverting.”
“It was. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Bentley?”
She looked up at him with a faint smile. “You fight dirty.”
“If you only knew.”
“I do know. You keep ditching me with him.”
“I pick my battles.”
“I’d like to see that.”
He hoped she never had to. He continued to walk with her, feeling an unaccustomed sense of peace.
He’d talked about Lisa and the baby and he was still standing.
Maybe she had things aright. Face the pain and be done was a far better practice than dreading it, ignoring it, trying to circumvent it.
His brother faced the unpleasant, just marched straight up to it and ran it through.
Patrick had done his share of that in his lifetime, but not in the past several years.
He’d done everything but look at the grief.
Perhaps it was far past time he did.
Change,
whispered his heart.
Aye, a change. Change of occupation, change of attitude, change of outlook.
His heart whispered its approval.
He grunted. All he needed now was that bloody ghostly piper to chime in with a fling to celebrate the decision. He sighed deeply, then searched about for a smile.
“Let’s go work on your list,” he said. “My offer of chauffeur still stands.”
“I might take it. It would only be for a couple of days anyway. I don’t suppose it would get in the way of you lording over your serfs.”
“Probably not,” he agreed.
“What will it cost me?”
“Cost? For a woman who scares the hell straight from me? Why, my lady, that would be gratis.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Do I scare you?”
“Unsettle,” he amended. Visions of her shivering as she touched a rock at Culloden assaulted him. “Unsettle.”
She cocked her head to one side. “Are you still offering necessities and comfort?”
“Freely.”
“Done, then,” she said.
And so easily.
“Let’s go make that list,” she said.
He woke, looked at the sun, and realized he was going to have to make extreme haste to meet his plane. He looked at Madelyn to tell her as much, then found himself rendered quite mute.
She was staring at him with the slightest of smiles on her face. It was a smile that smote him straight to the heart.
Patrick leaned up on one elbow. “Nice nap?”
“It seemed to work for you.”
“You slept as well.”
“I did not. I was industriously studying the map.”
“Maybe lists do you a disservice,” he said slowly. “You miss the simple days on the shore that way.”
“After this,” she said, looking out over the water, “I might consider using them less.” She looked back at him. “But if I did, how would I number all the great things about today? Great food, great scenery, tolerable company.”
He smiled as he leaned over and, without thinking, kissed her. He pulled back quickly, surprised that he’d done it. It hadn’t been intentional.
It had been just too damned natural.
“Keep your lists, Madelyn,” he said, attempting a tone of ease and lightness. “I’ll rip them up periodically for you.”
She nodded casually. “Sure.”
He got to his knees and began packing up. “We need to go. I’ve got to go catch a plane.”
She sat up. “Are you a pilot?”
“Nothing so glamorous. I’m off to play nanny for a day or two.” He packed up, rose, then held down his hands for her.
“You don’t look like a nanny.”
“I don’t feel like one, either, but there you have it.”
She packed up with him, but didn’t ask any questions. That was just as well. He didn’t have any answers.
He drove as carefully as he dared back to the inn, to spare her. He was damned late, though, and would have to chance another speeding ticket just to get to the airport on time.
He parked in front of Roddy’s. At least the Jag wasn’t there, which at least boded well for Madelyn’s evening.
“I’ll be back day after tomorrow,” he said. “Then we’ll do your list.”
“All right,” she said easily. “Thanks for a wonderful day.” He was torn between shaking her hand and kissing her. She merely stared at him as he stood in front of her and dithered.
Damnation, when was the last time he’d dithered?
“I’ll be back,” he promised.
“Sure.”
He patted her on the shoulder, then bolted for his car.
She just stood and watched him go.
He glued himself to the speed limit through the village and for a good half hour out of town before he put his foot down and flew toward Inverness.
He’d just patted a woman on the shoulder when he should have hauled her into his arms and kissed the socks off her.
By the saints, he was pathetic. At least Jamie hadn’t been watching.
Too bad Madelyn had been.
He shook his head and drove on.