Chapter 18 #2
He’d also talked his former uncle-in-law into loaning him the Lear for a few nonwork-related journeys during that upcoming fortnight.
Madelyn should see Edinburgh and he certainly preferred a trip by plane versus the long, lorry-clogged motorway.
They could hop over to Ireland if she liked, or Amsterdam, or Paris.
There were other places to see in England as well.
Elizabeth’s brother Alexander and his wife Margaret had a recently restored medieval keep in England that Madelyn might care to see.
There was much to do and little time in which to do it.
Wings gave him the freedom he craved. With Conal’s plane at his disposal, all of Europe lay at his fingertips.
Of course, the fact that he could have bought a Lear for himself without feeling the pain of it was something he didn’t think on very often. Conal enjoyed interrogating him about his destinations, and he rather enjoyed doing his damndest to avoid giving any details.
Unhealthy, no doubt, but there you had it.
He walked into Harrods, checked his watch, and headed for the predetermined meeting place. Madelyn was there, waiting, looking a bit harried. Her hair was riotous, her sweater on a bit askew, and her face flushed.
Not a good afternoon shopping, perhaps.
But she was, he couldn’t help but admit, simply beautiful. He stood in the midst of the continual stream of shoppers and stared at her for a handful of moments without moving. Aye, she was very fair.
Not only fair, but amusing, independent, and determined.
And she was waiting for him.
She turned, saw him, and a smile of relief mingled with happiness crossed her face.
It almost undid him.
He started toward her. She worked her way through the throng of shoppers to meet him halfway.
“Crazy place,” she said, dragging her sleeve across her forehead. “I should have worn shorts and a T-shirt. Too many people in here.”
He nodded in agreement. “That’s why I call ahead.” He looked down. “One sack?”
“A dress and shoes. What do you want, a whole wardrobe?”
“I admire your restraint, but I had suitcases sent back to the hotel for us and mine is full.”
“Things in black?”
“I bought a pair of blue jeans and a red shirt, just for you. Come on,” he said, taking her bag with one hand and her hand with his other. “Take advantage of me.”
“Don’t want to.”
He grunted and pulled her along after him. “Stubborn wench,” he muttered under his breath.
Amazing, stubborn, marvelous wench.
An hour and a very cross Madelyn Phillips later, he was sitting in a taxi on his way back to the hotel. She had glared at him so long, she’d finally given up and claimed he’d given her a headache from all the frowning she’d had to do.
“A single dress was enough,” she said.
“Say ‘Thank you, Patrick.’”
“Thank you, Patrick. You impossible man. Does anyone ever get their way around you?”
“Always. I’m quite tractable.”
“Sure,” she said dryly. She smiled at him. “Thank you. It was very generous.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“I didn’t need more shoes.”
“You need everything. Your suitcase was stolen, if you’ll remember. Miriam is no doubt anxious to have her antiques back, though I hope she’ll allow you to keep the lime outfit. I’m very keen on that one.”
“Well, a girl can dream.”
He smiled. “Aye, and so can a lad.” He reached for her hand. “Let’s go change, have supper, then head for the theater. Perhaps we won’t be mugged tonight.”
“I’m not worried.” She looked at him seriously. “You don’t know how nice it is to feel safe.”
And given that his heart had felt safer in the last day or two than it had in years, he had to agree.
He watched from Conal Grant’s luxurious leather chair as the Lake District passed beneath him and marveled at the change in his life over the past few days.
A lighter heart, a fuller belly, a more cheerful outlook.
He looked across from him at the reason for two of the three.
She was asleep and he took the opportunity to simply stare at her.
Odd how he had started this entire passing of time with her with the promise to himself that he would enjoy her company and nothing more. He certainly hadn’t planned on his heart getting involved.
He tramped down the faint feeling of panic he had at that thought. So his heart was involved. It didn’t mean it had to be permanently involved.
Though to say that spoke volumes about himself, didn’t it?
He closed his eyes and shook his head. Perhaps he would do well to take an hour or two and flip through a handful of books in Jamie’s library. Perhaps he could find something there to aid him in unraveling his own sorry self.
Nay, he needed no book. What he needed was time. Time to see what his heart was capable of. Time to see what Madelyn felt. Time to see what might come of their hearts intertwining together.
He opened his eyes. She was looking at him. He smiled.
“Sleep well?” he asked.
She covered her yawn with her hand. “I can’t seem to stay awake. You’d think I wasn’t sleeping at night, but I am.” She shivered. “Just catching up, I suppose. You know, the strain of too much shopping. It’s just exhausting.”
He squeezed her foot with his own. He liked that, sitting with her foot cradled between his, finding some way to touch her even when he wasn’t sitting next to her.
By the saints, he was indeed in trouble.
“And I was forced to sit up for quite a while after the show, fondling that violin I found on my bed.”
He shrugged with a faint smile. “Amazing what hotels these days leave on pillows. I understand ’twas a mere chocolate or two in times past.”
“You are completely impossible.”
“I do what I can.”
“You do too much.” Her smile faded. “Patrick, how can I ever repay you? And it isn’t just for the things. It’s for your time. You’ve just done too much.”
“You don’t need to repay me,” he said.
“You could come to Seattle.”
He looked at her in silence for a moment or two. The thought, for some odd reason, terrified him. But the more he looked at her, the less that ridiculous emotion seemed to hold sway over him. He smiled. It was a weak one, but there.
“I just might,” he said.
“It wouldn’t be hard. Just get on a plane.”
“Seems easy enough.”
“It is. Just buy your ticket, pack your gear, and get on the plane. I can promise you a bit of floor in my parent’s living room. We’ll get them to speak French. You’ll like it.”
He found it in him to smile truly. “I daresay I’d like it very much.”
“Good. Then I feel less bad about imposing.”
It wasn’t an imposition. In fact, he wished she would impose a bit more, for a bit longer.
The plane began to descend. He wondered if Jamie would mind guests for supper. He tried not to think about what that would mean, him taking a woman to dinner at his brother’s.
Something he’d never done with any woman.
Ever.
He made Madelyn go over another of her lists as the plane descended, then collected their luggage and headed toward his car.
He begged her to bear with him and stop in Inverness for a bit of lunch.
He supposed she might be growing used to that because she only smiled gamely and warned him that she wouldn’t be fitting into all her expensive clothing soon if he didn’t take her to fewer restaurants.
But given the fact that she perpetually ordered the smallest thing on the menu, he doubted she would be growing out of her clothes any time soon.
After a tolerable lunch, he took her hand and walked with her down the street back to the car park. That he should take her hand so casually and so easily should have unsettled him greatly.
That it didn’t was almost as unsettling.
He smiled at her.
She smiled back.
He walked toward his car and suddenly the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He stopped and looked around him, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Not enough sleep, probably.”
“Too much chocolate for dessert.”
He laughed. “Aye, ’tis likely that. Poisonous stuff, that chocolate.”
“But so fabulous.”
He agreed and continued on his way. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.
It was probably Bentley, stalking them. Would that the fool would stalk them somewhere in private where he could see to him appropriately.
He shrugged off his unease. Nothing he could do now. He’d deal with whatever mischief Bentley was combining when it came to a head.