Chapter One
Iona
When a woman in her forties lets a man in his twenties kiss her, nothing can or should come of it. But that one brief moment of madness has become the bane of my existence. Eric Taylor is a sweet laddie, but I am not attracted to him. That kiss proved it. With other men I've dated, one touch of our lips led to something more---but not with Eric. I told him so. I've continued to tell him every time he shows up at my work or at my cottage. Eric is relentless, in a strangely sweet way.
But no, I do not want to date or sleep with him.
Our one brief kiss has become a distant memory---for me. Eric has other ideas. Or he did. The laddie hasn't pestered me in at least five days. That's a miracle.
Despite my unwanted suitor, I woke up this morning feeling bloody good. The sun is shining, a somewhat rare occurrence in the Scottish Highlands. So, I wander out into the garden and settle down on an Adirondack chair to enjoy the lovely weather.
Ahhh, this is heaven.
My mobile chimes. I instinctively reach for it and swipe to turn the screen on. The first thing I see is a notification from...Eric Taylor. I groan as I open the text message. Though I do not want to talk to him right now, I suffer from an overabundance of politeness when it comes to such matters. Naturally, I can't stop myself from reading Eric's missive.
May I see you today? Miss you so much.
Och, when will that boy give up? I don't miss him, and no, I do not want to see him today. This is getting ridiculous. His mother, Rebecca, is marrying my brother Thane in a few months. I haven't told Rebecca about her son's behavior because, honestly, I haven't told anyone. It's embarrassing, and I won't risk upsetting Rebecca or Thane by sharing my problems with them. They have enough stress, what with all the wedding preparations. Rebecca doesn't need to hear about her son's antics and the fact that Eric has become a stalker---a sweet, well-intentioned one.
Not responding to his message seems like the best option.
But my mobile chimes again. Please, Iona, I need to talk to you.
I throw my head back and growl, unleashing a slew of Gaelic obscenities. Then I slump in my chair and try to pretend I'm not deeply annoyed. I count the seconds until I realize more than a minute has passed with no text messages. At last, I can allow myself to relax a wee bit. After five minutes tick by with no texts, I begin to genuinely unwind, shutting my eyes, letting the soft sizzle of the wind rustling through the trees ease the tension inside me.
Until this moment, I never realized how lovely and necessary silence can be. The sound of a vehicle approaching barely registers in my mind, until the tires crunch on the gravel in my driveway. If that's Eric...I'll flee into the pasture behind Raghnall MacCrum's homestead. Surely, Eric won't trudge through cow patties to harass me.
Someone pounds on my front door, battering it so ferociously that the sound echoes through the entire house and out into the garden. Mhac na galla . Eric is driving me insane. It's time to give him the verbal lashing he's earned.
But I'll do it politely.
I jump out of my chair and fling the back door open, making it bounce back, and stomp through the house all the way to the front door. There, I pause for just long enough that I can catch my breath. Then I finally fling the front door open.
And I gawp at the stranger who's glowering at me. "Who the bloody hell are you?"
He slants toward me a wee bit. Spittle sprays from his lips as he snarls, "I'm the man who's going to destroy your life, and you are the slag who seduced my son."
"What are you talking about? I have no idea who you are, but I'm dead certain you have no right to shout at me." His accent proves he's British, but I still can't fathom why a stranger is shouting at me.
The man slaps his palms down on either side of the door frame. "Do you deny that you're Iona Buchanan?"
"Why should I deny or confirm anything for you? I have half a mind to ring the Loch Fairbairn Police Station."
"Go on, then. I can wait." One corner of his mouth kicks upward the slightest bit. "I would love to watch the coppers handcuffing you."
Oh, I've had enough of this bod ceann . "I'm ringing the police right now. Best scurry away or else the constables will come---and they're my friends."
I slam the door in his face. Well, I try to do that. But he shoves his hand in the way, stopping me from locking him out.
"Do you mean to continue lying to me?" the bod ceann says. "Toby Knight is my son."
"Never heard of the laddie." Maybe that isn't entirely true. Eric's best mate is called Toby, but I can't say for certain he's the one this bod ceann is shouting at me about. Toby is a rather common name, especially among British erses. "Last chance, Mr. Knight. I'll ring the police in five seconds. Four, three, two---"
Mr. Knight takes one step backward and adopts an arrogant stance. He spreads his feet a wee bit more and crosses his arms over his chest. The bod ceann lifts his chin too.
What a pigheaded lout.
"Have it your way," I tell him. "Time to bring in the authorities."
I make somewhat of a show of raising my mobile and punching in the digits. Then I turn on the speaker so this ersehole can listen to the phone ringing at the other end. We both hear it when someone picks up the call.
"Loch Fairbairn Police Station. How may I assist you?"
"Hello, Fergus. This is Iona Buchanan." I can't resist smirking at Mr. Knight, who now sighs and rolls his eyes. "I have an intruder who's trying to get into my house."
"We'll be there in five minutes, Iona."
"Thank you, Fergus." I disconnect the call and slap my mobile down on the table beside the door. I lift my chin. "Still want to stay here?"
"Yes."
"Fine." I cross my arms over my chest, just like he did. "We can wait right here."
I count the minutes, one second at a time, while the bod ceann grows more and more impatient. He begins to tap his fingers on his elbows, which are still bent thanks to his arms being strapped across his chest. He must have sizable muscles. The suit he wears is stretched taut over his biceps.
Four minutes and ten seconds to go.
My mobile rings, and I see my oldest brother's name on the screen. He sent me a text message, which must mean Thane has heard about this altercation. News travels fast in Loch Fairbairn.
I lift the screen, tilting it toward the bod ceann . "If one of my brothers knows about this, that means they both do. Thane and Ramsay are tough men. They'll make mincemeat out of you."
Mr. Knight huffs. "I've been struck by lightning. Your brothers don't frighten me."
He must be lying. Struck by lightning? He's only saying that to prove how tough he is. Almost no one actually gets hit by lightning.
Another text message chimes on my mobile. This time it's Ramsay. I glance at the two texts. Aye, my brothers are barreling toward my cottage right now.
Two minutes and forty-nine seconds to go.
"Would you like a glass of water while we wait, Mr. Knight?"
"No," he snarls.
I shrug. "Have it your way."
Seconds later, I hear a siren wailing in the distance, clearly heading this way.
And still, the bod ceann does not move.
The police car pulls into the driveway, blocking Mr. Knight's vehicle. Two constables climb out---Fergus and his partner, Sorley. The laddies march straight up to my unwanted guest and take up positions at either side of him.
"So, you've been harassing this woman," says Fergus. "That sort of thing is illegal, you know."
The British bod ceann rolls his eyes.
Sorley shakes his head. "Better tell us why you're harassing Ms. Buchanan. Otherwise, we'll have to throw you in the boot of our car."
Mr. Knight snorts. "You can't arrest me for standing on the porch."
"Aye, we can," Fergus declares. "Iona, do you swear this man was harassing you?"
I nod. "Absolutely."
Another car comes racing up the road, tires squealing as it halts at the curb. Thane and Ramsay leap out and stomp up to the porch.
Ramsay thrusts a finger toward Mr. Knight. "Is this the bastard who assaulted our sister?"
"There was no assault," I tell my brother. "He was being extremely obnoxious and making false accusations against me."
"What accusations?" Thane demands.
I stab a finger at the British bod ceann . "He accused me of seducing his son."
Thane squints at the Brit. "Who are you? And who is your son?"
"I am Rafe Knight, and my son is Toby Knight."
"As if that explains everything."
Rafe lifts his chin even higher. "He's best mates with Eric Taylor. The boys have been in Scotland on an extended holiday. That's how Toby met this woman."
He made the word woman sound like a heinous insult. Why on earth does Rafe Knight despise me? I met him less than ten minutes ago.
"Och, men," I grouse. "You're all behaving like rabid lions. I don't know Toby. I only know Eric because his mother is marrying Thane."
And the laddie is stalking me, sort of. Can I rationalize having Rafe thrown in jail when I've allowed Eric to pester me? I'm so confused.
"You need to arrest him," Ramsay announces. "We'll figure out what's going on here down at the station. Thane and I can keep Rafe Knight company in his cell."
"Aye, we can." Thane cracks his knuckles. "With pleasure."
I throw my hands up. "Och, will you lot stop behaving like lunatics? This has gotten wildly out of hand."
Fergus looks at me. "Are you saying you don't want Mr. Knight to be detained for questioning?"
"Well...I don't know."
"Then we have to take him in. Better safe than sorry." Fergus pulls out his handcuffs and secures them around Rafe's wrists. "Time to go, sir."
Rafe glowers at no one in particular. "I'll sue the lot of you."
"You'll have the right to a solicitor if we decide to book you for harassment."
"What about his car?" I ask.
"Dinnae fash, Iona. We'll deal with that once we've sorted out whether to arrest him."
Surprisingly, the Brit allows the constables to lead him away without any fuss at all. They help him into the backseat, then climb into their seats and drive away.
I turn to my brothers. "You didn't need to come running. The constables could've handled the situation."
Thane grasps my shoulders. "You're our sister. Of course we'll always come when you need help."
"Aye," Ramsay concurs. "At least Maeve and Rowan weren't here."
I sigh. "My children are strong lasses who can take care of themselves in any situation."
Ramsay winks. "Just like their mother."
"Their strength isn't my doing. I can't pass along my genes to my adopted daughters."
"No. But you have raised them to be just as strong as you."
Every muscle in my body slackens now that the uproar is over with. "I'd need a wee lie-down."
Thane squeezes my shoulder gently. "Are you sure you want to be alone? Rebecca and I would be happy to have you join us for lunch at our house."
"I appreciate the offer. But I'd rather be alone."
My brothers both kiss my forehead, then they get into Thane's pickup truck and drive away.
Though I shuffle into the bedroom and flop onto the bed, I can't manage to sleep. My thoughts keep returning to Rafe Knight and what the constables might do with him. Does he deserve to be arrested? Maybe his anger stems from pain. What sort, I can't say.
Mhac na galla . Now I'm empathizing with a British erse who shouted at me. I sigh. Not only do I allow a young laddie to essentially stalk me, but now I'm giving serious consideration to the idea of telling the constables not to charge Rafe.
Aye, I'm a hopeless case.