Chapter 9
If Bonnie was being honest with herself, she hadn’t expected to see Lyon again.
Of course, his brothers were married to her sisters, so presumably there’d be some events—such as the christening of her niece or nephew—where seeing him again would be unavoidable.
But…he rarely left his castle, and it was clear he wasn’t willing to risk his normal existence for anything.
Like her.
So no, she hadn’t planned on seeing Lyon again. If she had to see him at some family function, she’d assumed she could just stand on the opposite side of the room from him or something.
Something which didn’t require her to look into those beautifully haunted hazel eyes, or stare at those perfect lips, and remember how it had felt to be held by him.
She certainly hadn’t expected to back out the front door of the respectable boardinghouse, where she was staying in Inverness, bidding goodbye to the kindly proprietress, and then, as soon as she turned around, run smack into his chest.
But that’s exactly what happened, and as she raised her hand to rub at her smooshed nose and met his worried gaze, her brain went blank. Completely numb. Everything stopped working, actually; she simply froze in place and her mind screamed, “Mraaaap?”
“Hello, Bonnie.”
And then it all started working again, all at once, nudged into motion by that fabulously low growl of his. Her brain sped up, as did her breathing, and as for her arousal…well, that sped up too. Heat pooled between her legs, and her gaze went to his lips, remembering their taste.
“I’m sorry to barge into yer life like this…” he began.
“More like I barged into you.” She tried to grin as she lowered her hand to press flat against her own chest. “What are you doing here, Lyon?”
She’d never planned on seeing him again…
“Looking for ye.”
Oh.
But then he cleared his throat and stepped back. “I had some business to attend to in Inverness.”
Oh.
He was here on business?
Now that she looked at him, she realized he was dressed for it, in a finely tailored overcoat of dark blue and a gray scarf, the somber tones setting off his golden hair, which—
She sucked in a gasp, her fingers instinctively rising, only for her to remember they stood in the middle of a street in Inverness, and it wasn’t proper for her to touch him, not like this.
“You cut your hair,” she whispered, not sure why she hadn’t noticed it right away. “It looks so…so stylish now.”
She didn’t miss the flush which climbed his neck and cheeks as he snatched his hat off his head, so she could see it better.
“It was Sander’s idea,” he mumbled, and she had to grin.
“And I am certain Keith was thrilled.”
His nod was jerky. “I thought ye might like it.”
Oh, be still her traitorous heart! “You look very much like a gentleman.”
Although she wasn’t certain she liked that.
“And no’ like a beast? Even with the scars?”
It was impossible to miss the note of hope in his voice, and her smile softened. Leaning closer, she lowered her voice. “Lyon, you never looked like a beast. But I will confess”—she darted a glance at his fine trousers and shined shoes—”I miss the kilt.”
His expression turned rueful as he shifted slightly, picking up one leg and shaking it a bit. “Aye, I do as well. Trousers are…restrictive.”
She burst into laughter, remembering the exciting chess game they’d played where he’d explained he liked the “freedom” of kilts. She didn’t have to guess what he meant now.
Still chuckling, she slid her arm through his. “If your business is complete—”
“Nay, Bonnie. It was my father’s business, and it was just an excuse to get me to Inverness. I’m here for ye.”
Oh.
Oh my.
Breathless, Bonnie had to swallow a few times to make her tongue—and her brain—start working again. “Walk with me?” she managed.
Immediately, he nodded, and they set out at a leisurely pace.
“It’s no’ quite as cold here,” Lyon murmured after a block or so. “Although still too cold to be pleasant.”
Bonnie, who’d relaxed now that she was pressed against his side, peeked up at him. “I suspect you would not be entirely comfortable anyplace away from Oliphant Castle, yes?”
“Ye’d be right,” he rumbled. “But…” It was difficult to tell, with him bundled up the way he was, but she thought he swallowed. “I had to.”
“For business?” She held her breath, realizing how much his answer mattered.
Hazel eyes cut her way. “For ye.” His tongue darted out over his lower lip as he turned once more to the street ahead of them. “Is there someplace we can talk?”
For ye. He’d left his castle for her!
“Yes.” Her heart was beating faster than normal. “I stop at my favorite café before work. Would you like to join me?”
“I would.” The fervent tone in his voice told her he wasn’t just talking about coffee and pastries, and it made her heart feel light.
The café was nearer to the publishing house than the boarding house, snuggled in a working-class neighborhood.
No one here in Inverness knew that she was, technically, the daughter of a baron.
All they knew for sure was her mother ran a prosperous inn, and Bonnie, the new owner of a publishing house, was a bit eccentric.
Because of course it was eccentric to want to follow her own dream or make her own way in the world, right?
As she walked with Lyon—a bit faster than a stroll because, although the sun was out, the snow hadn’t melted yet and it was still quite chilly—she pointed out some of her favorite parts of the neighborhood and waved to people she recognized.
The man at her side would one day be laird, but he didn’t seem to mind the fact she didn’t live in the lap of luxury. In fact, although he kept his hat pulled low and his face turned toward her so his scars weren’t as visible to others, he nodded politely to the people they passed.
He listened to her as she talked about her time in Inverness, which she’d started to do just as a nervous way to fill the silence, but shortly, they fell into the easy camaraderie they’d shared at Oliphant Castle, where she’d felt comfortable talking to him about all sorts of things, and he’d seemed genuinely interested, just as he did now.
“I am excited to show you the publishing house, Lyon, if you are interested. It is an old building, in a row of old buildings, and I would love your suggestions on how to improve the quality.”
“I dinnae ken I’m the man—”
She scoffed. “You are the smartest man I know. And you know all about machines and mechanics in a way I cannot comprehend. Listening to you talk that evening in your library, it was obvious you know more about printing presses than I do.”
“But ye’re the owner.”
“I am, and I understand how it works, but I have a foreman for the actual printing. I have been devoting myself to finding new clients.” She shrugged.
“Truthfully, I need new clients, because I have not been able to afford to keep the presses running on only the few commissions we get. It is just me and my foreman right now, and a rickety old building full of dusty bales of paper and a few presses a century old.”
Lyons’s brows went up as they rounded the corner and saw the café ahead of them. “A century?”
“Aye, Grimm and Sons was once a respected house, but the man I bought it from was the younger of the two sons, and he was ready to retire and go live with his grandchildren. This is not a modern publishing house.”
The noise he made, as his breath huffed out from him and formed a cloud in front of his mouth, might’ve been a laugh, were he the kind of man to laugh.
Bonnie didn’t mind that he wasn’t, because he was here.
When they reached the café, he held the door for her and the next few minutes were a flurry of removing their outerwear, making small talk about how cozy and warm it was inside, and ordering their coffees and pastries.
But soon enough, they were settled at a small table in front of the window, where they could watch passersby hurrying through their busy lives.
But neither Bonnie nor Lyon were particularly interested in them.
Her back was ramrod straight as she sat with her hands in her lap, fingers gripping one another, waiting for him to speak. Not even her delicious looking pastry, when it arrived, could distract her from the ache in her stomach as she thought about how he’d followed her to Inverness.
Surely that was a good sign, aye?
Lyon, for his part, spent the time studying his coffee with far more interest than it necessitated.
Just when she wondered if she needed to find a way to start the conversation, he took a deep breath and finally—finally—met her eyes. There was so much emotion in their hazel depths—worry, confusion, hopelessness—she wasn’t sure which to address first.
“Bonnie, I told ye I came to Inverness on business, but that was just the excuse my family needed to kick me out of the castle. I’m really here because—”
When he cut himself off, sounding as if he might be choking, Bonnie realized she was leaning forward. “Yes?” she whispered.
But he shook his head, his gaze finding the window and studying the shop on the other side of the street as if it were most fascinating. When he swallowed, she saw the long column of his throat flex and wondered what he would taste like there.
Likely perfectly wonderful, you ninny. Just like the rest of him.
Well, yes. She wouldn’t mind tasting the rest of him either.
He swallowed again, his coffee and pastry untouched, and she saw his fingers flex against the white tablecloth. Finally, he asked in a low voice, “Ye didnae want to leave Oliphant Castle, did ye?”
It was a candid question, and she knew the least she could do was grant him the same courtesy. “No. I enjoyed being with you.”
I enjoyed being part of your life.
He blinked, but his gaze didn’t waver from the distraction across the street. “And I ye, but…”
It was the heartbreak she heard in his voice which told her what the problem was. That, and the fact his hand had now curled into a fist, which looked wrong against the lace tablecloth.
Lyon Oliphant wasn’t the beast everyone assumed.
He was a broken, hurt man who had hidden himself away.