Chapter 16 #2
“It is truly my pleasure.”
“And you won’t say anything to the tour guide?”
“Nary a word.”
She looked vastly relieved. “I’d like to actually get through a castle without seeing the exit prematurely.”
“My apologies,” he said humbly. “I couldn’t help myself. That man yesterday didn’t know his tartans from Ralph Lauren bedsheets.”
And given that Lisa had always insisted on Ralph Lauren bedsheets—imported from the U.S. no less—he would certainly know of what he spoke.
“Maybe they don’t have any guides here,” she said hopefully.
He laughed. “If they do, I promise to keep silent.”
“Thank you,” she said. She put her hand over his.
Chills ran down his spine. He had his doubts it was because he was cold.
Madelyn rubbed her arms suddenly. “Has this thing got a heater?”
He turned it on. “I told you,” he said. “Highlands, cold. Together every time.”
“I didn’t think we were in the Highlands anymore.”
“’Tis still cold,” he said. “Let’s see if there’s a tea shop. We’ll find something hot to drink. The chill won’t stand a chance against it.”
“Uh-huh,” she said with a nod, but she didn’t sound convinced.
He wasn’t, either.
Whatever there was between them had gone far beyond what could be solved by something hot from a kettle.
Five hours, three castles, an uncountable number of steps, a reservation for separate rooms in a B and B, and several small snacks later, he was standing on the castle walls overlooking a bay on the inner coastline in Argyll.
There had been stairs enough to suit Madelyn, an adequate guidebook that suited even him, and a sunset that suited them both.
He looked at Madelyn and smiled at the look of pleasure on her face.
“You’re happy,” he said.
“I got to tramp up and down stairs,” she said.
“Are you hungry?”
She laughed. “Don’t you ever think about anything else?”
“I’m making up for being hungry in my youth.”
“Then sure, I’ll go eat with you. Just let me look out over the ocean one more time.” She had her look, then sighed. “This is just beautiful.”
“Aye, it is.”
She smiled up at him. “This was a wonderful idea. Thank you.”
He looked down at her, saw her shiver, and put his arm around her. “Nay, thank you, Madelyn,” he said. “I’ve enjoyed the day very much.”
She smiled weakly. “Aren’t we just a picture of politeness?”
He considered that. Politeness? He supposed so. Though politely asking her if she’d mind if he kissed her again was not exactly foremost in his thoughts. What he wanted to do was haul her against him and kiss her until neither of them could breathe. He’d done it before with marginal success.
He lifted one eyebrow.
She laughed at him.
“Feisty wench,” he muttered, then slipped his hand under her hair, pulled her against him, and proceeded to kiss her until he had to reach out with one hand and hold on to the wall so he didn’t send them both plunging down into the inner bailey.
Madelyn didn’t seem to mind.
He didn’t, either, but he was beginning to wonder if he might have to sit down soon. She was intoxicating and he was starting to feel just the slightest bit light-headed.
“’Tis time to close!” called a merry voice from behind them.
Patrick almost fell off the parapet. He lifted his head and looked at Madelyn. “Did you hear something?”
“It wasn’t a ghost,” Madelyn said, her breathing a bit ragged. “Nope, there he is. Waving at us.”
“Damned do-gooders,” he muttered.
“Might be a Scottish tour guide,” she offered.
“Ha. A proper Scot wouldn’t have interrupted us.” He took her hand and pulled her along behind him. “Fair knocked us from the wall with his bellowing. Dangerous.”
“Very,” she agreed.
He grumbled a bit more as he passed the perky soul with the keys, but had no trouble smiling at Madelyn as he walked with her to the car park.
The feel of her hand in his was quite possibly one of the nicest things he’d experienced in a long time.
He was almost growing accustomed to that otherworldly sensation that went through him occasionally when he touched her.
His mobile phone was buzzing in the car when they got back in. He almost considered not answering it, but perhaps it was Jamie telling him that Elizabeth had delivered her baby. He listened to the message, then sighed.
“Bad news?”
“A job in London.”
She waited. “And?”
“We’d have to fly tomorrow.”
“I could get my passport,” she offered. “And I could see if I can get a replacement for my plane ticket.”
“You could,” he agreed slowly. “And that doesn’t mean you need use it right away.”
“My ticket is for Sunday.”
He spit out his next words before he thought better of it. “Change it.”
He could feel her looking at him. He met her eyes and wondered if the twilight would show things he didn’t want shown, things he wasn’t sure he wanted to feel. And even if he wanted to feel those things, he wasn’t sure he would be able to endure the feeling of them.
By the saints, he was a wreck.
“I don’t know if I can,” she said slowly. “Change it.”
He waited.
“Not that I wouldn’t want to,” she added.
He took a deep breath. “Let’s worry about it tomorrow. My flight leaves early tomorrow afternoon. We’ve time for a decent dinner, breakfast, then a quick trip back to Inverness.”
“Works for me.”
And more time with her worked for him. He started the car and drove to a restaurant, unaccountably at peace.
A few more days with her.
What could that hurt?