Chapter 9 #2
Finally, I regained control enough to look at my friend properly. His ears were red—a sure sign he was in over his head in whatever he was doing. Good. He needed the push.
“I… No, this is fine.”
Mathilda held out a hand, and James descended the steps and handed the small, white envelope over. He hesitated.
“Go?” I suggested.
He pulled an apologetic grimace then went back the way he’d come, leaving us alone.
Mathilda tucked the envelope inside the notebook she’d been writing in all day, then turned her heated gaze on me. I liked knowing I’d put that blush on her cheeks.
She collected her bag from where she’d dropped it on the floor. “On that note, we should get going.”
I sighed, trailing after her, wanting more than ever for her to return to my home.
The forty-minute run to the airport went by in a flash. A gale splattered rain on the Land Rover’s windscreen, and I had to concentrate on the road, rather than think of ways to get Mathilda back into my arms.
“What do you think James wants with Beth?” she mused, tapping her bottom lip as we drove.
“No idea,” I grumbled, feeling too big in my seat and too big for my skin.
“Is he seeing anyone?”
A snort this time. “No. James has lived a strange life. He’s a canny lad, but his social skills are dented. Better, since he came to us, but he’s quiet and he doesn’t share much. He’s never even looked at a woman, or a man for that matter, in a romantic sort of way. Not that I’ve seen.”
“What sort of life?”
“One where he was kept away from other influences by his uncle. Restricted, you might say.” Or controlled.
She twisted in her seat, that taunting skirt slipping up her thighs again. “And you just collected him and took him home? Is there anyone you don’t help?”
A smile pulled at my lips, and I flicked the windscreen wipers on faster, the rain thundering down. “You think I’m a collector of lame ducks? I’m paid to mentor him. James is learning estate management from me.”
“Would you have done it for free?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I would’ve. James was another brother to me. As honest and loyal as any of my kin. He had a quick mind, and I thrived on his changing opinions.
“Just as I thought.” Mathilda dusted off her hands like she’d claimed a victory. “You are kindness through and through. I have your number, Callum McRae.”
Hah. “Aye, ye do. Make sure you use it this time.”
She chuckled, and the car sped on through the rain.
After cruising into the drop-off point at the airport, a sort of desperation came over me, and I pulled the car over, wracking my brain for a way to end this well. Mathilda hopped out before I managed a word, and I sped around to her side.
“Thank you for today. I can email you an outline for the weddings plan—” she started, brushing her hair from her eyes.
The rain fell on us in fat drops.
“Come back. Come and see me again,” I uttered, moving in close but not touching her. Cold water ran down my neck. The next couple of weeks were manic with work, and I couldn’t even think of a night I could get away to Bristol. Then a solution came to me.
“In a fortnight, it’s the long weekend. Are you working?”
Mathilda inched closer as she considered the question. “No. Unusually, I’m not.”
“There’s a party on the next estate. A birthday. Highland games, the whole shebang. Come with me. As my date. Stay the weekend.” Despite the chill, I was sweating.
“Maybe,” she replied softly.
“One of my relatives is a miserly old arse who hates my branch of the family, so it will be fun to watch if he and I get into a row.” I’d changed my mind about the party as soon as I’d decided I needed an incentive for Mathilda to return.
Something more than just me alone. The twins would be delighted when I told them.
Both wanted to compete in Lachlan’s games.
“I can’t promise you I’ll come, even for that. Callum… I told you I don’t want to lead you on.”
Her honesty hurt, but there was no other way of getting her to fall for me if we were a country apart. Fuck. I was hurtling headlong into this. No brakes and no desire to stop.
A long moment drew out between us, and emotions played out over Mathilda’s face, a torment to watch without knowing her mind. All I knew was the sheer magnetism pulling me to her.
Nae. She was hurting, too. She felt this.
I raised a finger and tilted her chin. “What if I don’t care?”
“What if I do?” she replied. Then to my utter surprise and intense happiness, she gave an exasperated gasp, leaned in, and pressed her lips to mine. Her kiss was hesitant, then her arms came around my neck and she closed the distance between us.
Somewhere, a firework factory exploded.
“Mathilda,” I breathed, my mind reeling, then I crushed her to me and kissed the hell out of her beautiful mouth. If this was the only chance I had to impress her, I was going to make it count.
She didn’t pull away, and rain coated our faces, puddles forming around us on the car park’s tarmac.
She tasted sweet, addictive. Just like in my dreams.
With a careful touch, I held her head and controlled the kiss, meeting her soft lips with my more insistent ones. Demanding entry and gaining it as her mouth opened under mine. Mathilda moulded her body to my form.
Lust surged through my muscles. Our tongues met, sliding together in a perfect dance that almost had me on my knees. I knew she felt it too by her rush of breath as she finally pulled away.
“I really have to go,” she managed, and I blinked open my eyes.
Around us, other drivers and passengers gawped openly. Mathilda blushed, hiding her face in my shirt. I tucked my head down over hers, my arms a protective barrier.
“Just come back to me,” I murmured. “Dinna marry someone else in the meantime.”
Mathilda Storm pressed her lips to mine one last time and dashed off through the drenching Highlands rain.