Chapter 14
The journey back was far different from the one before. He was no longer distant—how could he be after what they had shared in a foreign country? Something poignant and potent, a rush of emotions and passions that had glued them together.
After boarding the plane, he took her to the stateroom with the large soft bed dominating the space and spent several hours making love and holding her to him as if he were loath to let her go.
They ate there. He did not once take out his laptop. Work was abandoned as if he were trying to cram as much as possible into the time they had left. They did not speak of what was going to happen after they landed. The magic of Scotland was still inside them, fueling their desire.
But all good things must come to an end, and as much as she prayed fervently to freeze time, it slipped by far too quickly.
Her bags were loaded into the back of her car, and it was time to leave. She had called her dad from the plane and told him that she was on her way.
"I'll be driving behind you until I reach the intersection." He adjusted the collar of the cashmere jacket he had bought her.
"No speeding," he ordered, making her smile.
"I promise."
His hand cupped her cheek, his expression eloquent. "I'll call when I get to the apartment to let you know I've arrived."
She nodded. She was resisting the yearning to wrap her arms around him and insist on going home with him. The weight of her responsibility was weighing heavily on her shoulders, and now more than ever, she resented going back to the little apartment over the bookstore.
"Back to work tomorrow."
"Yes." He toyed with the fringes of her hair.
She had brushed it back and braided it, the long plait settling on her left breast. Her face was devoid of makeup, and she looked as fresh as a college student.
He loved her so much it was like a constant ache in his heart.
The crushing feeling of despair wasn't just about parting ways with her.
It had an edge of darkness to it as well, as if something was coming.
Something he had no control over.
"We'll be together soon," he murmured softly, perhaps more to convince himself than her. He wanted to believe that what was between them would be sorted out sooner rather than later. He needed her, and after what they had shared just recently, he knew he did not want to live without her.
"I promise," she repeated, and at that point, she knew without a doubt that she meant every word. The need and urgency to be with him was pressing. She was going to have to find a way to tell her dad about her changed status.
"I will—" She stopped when he placed a finger vertically over her lips and shook his head. "No promises. Not now."
It was getting late, and the cold was slicing through the layers of clothing. His driver was also waiting. "Kiss me goodbye," he urged.
She did not need to be asked a second time. Going on her toes, she touched her lips to his and the passion exploded. She would look back on this moment and wonder what had happened between then and a few days later.
He had intended for the kiss to be light and sweet, but it got away from him.
At the touch and taste of her lips, he took it deeper, and before long, he was drowning in her scent and the taste of her.
She was all he could think of—all he ever wanted.
His hands slid from her face to her shoulders and then banded around her narrow waist. When she wrapped her arms around his neck and sank into the kiss, his passion exploded.
It took considerable effort for him to drag his lips from hers, and even then, he had trouble breathing.
His hands shook. Keeping his hands around her waist, he tried to quiet his breathing and compose himself.
The silence between them was thick with both longing and the inevitability of parting.
Above, the city's lights blinked through the misty cold, casting silver halos over the damp street.
He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing in the warmth of her skin—a memory he knew would have to sustain him for the coming days.
She traced the line of his jaw with her thumb, memorizing the gentle bristle beneath her touch. "Text me when you get in," she whispered, her voice trembling despite her best efforts.
He nodded, reluctant to let her go, every instinct screaming at him to hold her tighter, shielding her from whatever shadows lay ahead. But the world outside their little cocoon waited, impatient, and reality pulled at them like the tide.
Easing away from her, he took her hand and guided her to the vehicle parked under an overhanging eave.
He opened the door for her and kissed her hand before stepping back.
He stood there for a moment more as he watched her taillights disappear.
Even when there was no sign of her left, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and simply stood there staring.
There was a dull ache inside his chest, and his body was still alive from the potent kiss.
It had felt as if he were telling her goodbye, and he could not shake the feeling of impending doom.
Lifting his shoulders in a shrug, he turned and walked to his vehicle, nodding to the driver as he opened the door.
*****
Her emotions veered close to the surface.
It took several minutes for her to talk herself out of turning the car around and heading back.
There was a sense of urgency, something insidious worming its way through her heart, her mind, and her very soul.
Something warning her that something was afoot.
Something bad. Her throat was thick with unshed tears, and her chest felt tight.
She had to grip the steering wheel to stop the trembling.
Her heart was racing a mile a minute, and her feet were unsteady.
Traffic was light at this time of night, but mindful of her promise to her husband, she was not going fast. A look in her rearview mirror showed that his vehicle was two cars behind hers.
She drew in a long, shaky breath, fighting back the urge to look for him one final time. The city seemed to whisper around her—tires on wet asphalt, a distant horn, the soft hum of streetlights. Every sound felt magnified, the world holding its breath right along with her.
She was looking in the mirror when his vehicle turned off at the main road.
Taking a deep breath, she headed toward the almost empty street and took the road leading to the bookstore and a place that no longer felt like home.
Driving into the parking lot, she sat there—just sat there and stared at the encroaching darkness.
The wind whipped at the leaves of the oak trees surrounding the narrow building.
Realizing that her fingers were still wrapped around the steering wheel, she let go.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped out into the icy cold.
Dragging the bags and her case from the back, she hurried toward the side of the building and took the stairs.
Entering the warmth of the narrow hallway, she absorbed the heat before dropping the bags and shrugging out of her jacket.
Her very first thought was to go straight to her suite and give in to the despair washing over her, but she could not even afford that luxury.
Her dad was waiting for her. He had told her that much when she called him.
She had to at least drop into his room and let him know she was home.
Home. The breath shuddered through her body as she realized that was no longer the case. It felt as if she were a stranger just passing through and wanted to leave as quickly as possible.
She pressed her palm flat against the wall, grounding herself in the tangible reality of plaster and paint, before making her way down the narrow hallway.
Each footstep seemed to echo with memories—of the way her dad had urged her to take the trip, the words her friend had spoken, the warnings that something was not quite right.
Every instinct was screaming at her to listen, pay attention—be prepared for what was coming.
A soft light spilled under her father's door, a golden sliver on worn floorboards.
She hesitated, every instinct urging her to retreat to the safety of solitude, but duty and love propelled her forward.
Knuckles trembling, she rapped gently, and the door creaked open almost before she could lower her hand.
Her father stood there, hunched in his favorite cardigan, eyes shadowed with the weight of sleepless nights.
His face softened when he saw her, relief and fatigue warring in his expression.
And just for a moment, she felt guilty about the things she had been thinking.
He looked so relieved to see her, so happy that she was home.
"You made it," he murmured, his voice low and rough, as if he'd been speaking only to ghosts.
She nodded, crossing the threshold. The room was thick with the scent of chamomile tea and old paper, the television murmuring quietly in a corner. For a fleeting second, she longed to curl up beside him, to sink into an old familiarity, but the tension in her body remained.
"I just wanted you to know I'm here," she said, her words barely above a whisper. "Safe."
He nodded, reaching out to grip her hand. His palm was warm, steady. "That's all I need to hear. How was it?"
"Wonderful." She squeezed his hand in return, letting the silence fill the space.
"You're going to have to tell me all about it when you have time and allow me to meet the young man."
His voice was light and easy, because he had planned all of it before she came. He would play along, because he had something in store for her. Yes, let her have her fun for now, he thought, masking his bitterness.