Chapter 10
The rest of her day passed by in a sun drenched dream. The sky was blue and dotted with white clouds. The loch was smooth and quiet, reflecting everything off its surface like the finest of mirrors. Trees hugged the waterline, competing for space with large boulders.
Reading Lady of the Lake by Sir Walter Scot in Scotland, on a loch, in the highlands filled her with a deep sense of wistfulness and romanticism.
Kate reclined in the boat, propped her feet on the top edge and tucked her hands behind her head to stare at the clouds above her.
Her thoughts tried valiantly to steer clear of Devin, but he was in the forefront of her mind and, unfortunately, in her heart.
Why not let go? Why not take happiness where she could find it?
She was in one of the most beautiful spots on Earth, in a place she loved to the very core of her being, and maybe she wasn't really living life to the fullest. Holden had done a number on her, but she wasn't washed up.
She was young and healthy and, yes, a romantic at heart.
And there was a broad-shouldered Scot who looked at her with hazel eyes filled with solemn strength, intelligence, and desire—the deep, dark, intense kind, the kind that had the same force as a comet blazing across the sky.
With a sigh, she sat up, and picked up the paddles, not wanting to break the mood by using the motor. The island was behind her, the sun would be going down soon, and her stomach clenched with hunger.
When she finally made it to the tiny pebbled beach, she used the paddles and dug deep into the floor of the loch to push the boat as close to the shore as possible. It wasn't close enough, so she took off her sneakers, threw them on shore and then jumped into the calf-deep water.
Yep. Still cold.
Hurrying, she grabbed Double H, the basket and blankets, and then made her way onto the beach to a cleared area that had obviously seen a lot of use over the years.
The interior of the island was filled with tall pines and she could see an old fort and some crude looking benches just inside the tree line.
Kate smiled. She could imagine the MacLaren boys playing there as children.
What a rough and tumble bunch they must have been.
In the clearing where she stood there was a small pile of sticks and logs next to a fire pit.
Too bad she hadn't thought to grab some matches.
With one of the blankets spread next to the fire pit, she sat down and opened the basket, immediately impressed.
Fran obviously erred on the you-can-never-have-enough side of food preparation.
There was enough in the basket for at least three people.
Along with two bottles of water and a bottle of white wine with two glasses. No wonder the thing was so heavy.
As Kate opened a container of pasta and dug in, a twig snapped in the forest. Chewing paused, she listened.
Probably nothing. She was on a tiny island.
Not an ideal habitat for large wildlife.
She was fine. The island was gorgeous, there was a mountain of food to eat, a sexy book to read, and wine to wash it all down. Life couldn't get any better.
Until a huge pile of sticks dropped down next to her blanket. Kate screamed, fumbled the container of pasta and shot off the blanket as Terry raced around her legs.
Devin stood there, looking as aggravated as she was shocked.
"What the hell?" she demanded, breathless, heart racing.
"You're in my spot."
"Your spot!"
He frowned, lips drawing into a thin line. Otherwise, he looked pretty damn hot standing there in work boots, cargo pants, and a flannel shirt hanging open to reveal a white T-shirt underneath. He looked wild and outdoorsy, and utterly male.
As they stared at each other, the situation seemed to dawn on them simultaneous.
"Hamish," they both said in unison.
Devin swiped a hand through his hair and let out a fed up breath.
"How did you get here?" she asked.
"My boat's just around that rock. It's an easier place to moor." He eyed her small craft. "You paddled all the way?"
"Been on the water since lunch. Eventually made it here." She looked down at the blanket. The container was overturned and the pasta spilled onto the dirt. Fair game for the dogs. "This explains why Fran packed so much food."
Devin's head swung around. "Food?"
She stifled a laugh. "Yeah. Guess she was in on it too. Might as well help yourself."
Devin set to work setting up the sticks and logs in the shallow pit.
Kate shooed the dogs off, rinsed the empty container in the water, and then returned to shake out the blanket.
Double H went tumbling into the dirt, landing right next to Devin's boot as he knelt to light the fire.
He glanced down. His brows lifted high as he turned his attention on her.
Kate wanted to die. Her fingers curled around the blanket and she stifled a mortified groan. His deep chuckle just made things worse. Figures. She should just realize and accept the fact that things would never be normal or easy or relaxing around him.
Whatever.
She spread the blanket as Devin tucked the paperback into the back waistband of his pants.
"Give it back."
He stopped blowing on the tiny flames and gave her an arched look. "Come and get it."
The words were spoken deep and evenly, and came with such a punch that Kate gaped for a second. "Well, it's my book, so . . . I'd like it back."
As he stood and removed the book from his waistband, she stepped back. It looked so small in his big hands. He stared at the cover a long moment, then did the same with her. Kate's throat went dry. What the hell was he thinking?
"We're going to eat," he told her. "Watch the sun set. And then I'm going to read Highlander's Harlot, to you in my best Scottish accent."
Her mouth fell open. The romantic-loving girl inside of her squealed with pleasure. Then she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Bastard!
Devin laughed and tossed her the book. She caught it. "Real funny," she said, glaring as her stomach went feather-light at the transformation on his face. The grin was blinding and sexy as hell.
"And you're way too easy." He sat on the blanket and rooted inside the basket.
Off balance yet again and more humiliated than she had when he first saw the book, Kate didn't appreciate being made fun off, or being the butt of his joke.
And more than anything she didn't like the way she'd reacted to his sexy words and smile.
"Who knew you had a sense of humor," she said petulantly, plopping down on the blanket.
Devin shrugged. "It happens. Rarely these days, but it happens."
Well great. It was hard to stay mad at him when he put it like that. She knew he'd had a hell of a time, and him finding laughter where he could, well, she couldn't fault him for that. Though, still. At her expense—not so great.
"Sorry," he said as if reading her mind. "You're wound so tight, Kate." He bit into a roast beef sandwich. "It's like a—" he glanced at the water for a second— "siren's call. Can't resist."
Her eyes rolled. "I'm not the only one wound up tight. You just show it differently."
"How so?" he asked, mouth full.
"You wear your silence like a suit of armor. Makes you seem unapproachable. You're locked up tight, too, and don't let your guard down." She thought of the times she'd been witness to just that. "Often," she amended.
He popped the cork to the wine. "Fair enough."
She rose to her knees, leaned forward, and retrieved the glasses from the strap inside the basket and held them out to be filled. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
She handed him his glass after he corked the bottle. "Were you always like that? Quiet, I mean."
After taking a drink, he set the glass on top of one of the plastic containers.
The dogs had taken up residence by the fire.
"You mean before the military?" Kate nodded.
"Yeah. Was usually the more quiet one of the bunch, but .
. . war . . . it made me more so I guess.
It's like you're living in a bubble." He grabbed a stick and poked at the fire.
"Every day might be your last or the guy's next to you or all of you for that matter.
So it dials you in, nothing else factors in but your job, and your men, and you learn to shut out a lot of stuff. "
She was a little shocked he'd said so much about it. "I guess that makes it hard. To come back and relate to our world."
"Right. And those guys that did their job next to you, that held you together, they're not there anymore. You're on your own."
"It must help to have Ian."
Devin nodded. "I have a tight family. I have all this," he gestured to the scenery around him.
"I have my girl," he said, smiling, reaching over to give Hildie a good scratch, his words filled with so much love it made Kate's heart trip.
Terry nosed his way closer. "And my boy," Devin added, giving Terry some love too. "You guys just want scraps, don't you?"
They did, of course, but Kate could see they'd be equally fine with Devin's attention.
"Just don't give them the cake."
His eyes went wide. "There's cake?"
With a laugh, she gestured to the basket. "In the container with the red lid."
Devin dug into the basket. "Chocolate. And they're big pieces. God, I love Fran. Here," he said, scooting closer and handing her a plastic fork. "Hold out your plate."
Kate moved closer. "They really want to see you settled, huh?"
Mouth full, he grunted in the affirmative.
She pulled the fork past her lips, making sure to get all the icing off. "Hmm. And apparently they think I'm perfect for you," she said with a smile. "Who knew?"
He thought about that and then gave a shrug she couldn't translate. She finished the cake and then stood to stretch her legs. "Sun's going down. As soon as it sets, I'm headed back." She kept her tone light, but it was a warning nonetheless—nothing was going to happen between them.
Devin moved the basket aside, grabbed Double H, flipped onto his stomach, opened the book, and read, "Och, lass, stop yer strugglin' will ye?
" he read in an accent as thick as Hamish's.
Kate glared at him over her shoulder. "It appears," he said in his regular voice, reading on, "that one Alastair Stewart.
A laird, mind you, has just kidnapped the stunning Fiona Campbell, and wants to have his wicked way with her.
A lass with raven hair and eyes like the bluest sky. "
Kate searched the ground for a rock to throw at him.
"Interesting. She looks like you, Kate," he went on, and she just wanted to walk into the loch and keep going. "A feisty wench, too, with full lips and milky white breas—"
Kate grabbed the pebble at her foot and beamed him in the shoulder before he could continue. "I can't believe I'm saying this—to you of all people—but, stop talking."
"You hit me with a rock," he said with stunned laughter in his tone.
"I was aiming for your head. Keep reading and I'll find a larger one."
A spark came into his eyes. Oh no. Not good. "If you can't play fair, Fiona…" he surged up and came after her.
Kate ran. "Me! You started it!"
He grabbed her up and tossed her over his shoulder.
She screamed, exhilaration coursing through her veins as she laughed and demanded he release her.
Devin walked her back to the blanket, knelt, and placed her on her back.
Her legs ended up trapped between his as he hovered over her, using his hands on either side of her biceps to close her in.
The mood change rapidly from breathless laughter to charged awareness.
A long moment passed. He was so close she could see the flecks of earthy green and gold in his eyes, and the faint lines at the corners of his eyes.
She loved the way his hair curled around his ears and neck.
Her hand came up and cupped his jaw, feeling the stubble underneath and the way his muscle flexed beneath her palm at her touch.
She wanted him with an intensity unlike anything before, but fear held her back.
Fear of how significant the moment felt.
Fear of being hurt. Betrayed. Of feeling more for him than he felt for her.
"What are we doing?" she asked, looking him square in the eyes.
He lowered his big body, pinning her to the ground, his weight feeling good and right. His forearms kept him from crushing her completely. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I can't think straight when you're around. I don't know. At this moment, I don't care. Do you?"
Her stomach flipped like crazy. Her pulse rushed through her ears so loud she could barely hear herself think. Her lips parted as his hand smoothed her hair back from her cheek. She knew she was lost before she even shook her head.