скачать книгу бесплатно
“From the States,” he remarked. “The South, I would assume.”
She laughed. She was used to getting the you’re-not-from-around-here speech when she was visiting other areas of her own country, but having people an ocean away remark upon it was a bit surreal. “Mississippi,” she confirmed. “Jackson, specifically. What about you? You’re a native, right?”
“I am.”
When he didn’t elaborate, she didn’t press. “And have you always wanted to make this walk?” Was that a B&B ahead? Gemma squinted. It definitely looked like it. Her kingdom for a scone, a hot shower and a bed.
“Not always,” Ewan admitted with a chuckle. “It was more of a spur of the moment thing.”
For whatever reason, she imagined that Ewan Mac Kinnon and spur of the moment were well-acquainted.
“It was supposed to be a journey of self-discovery,” he confided, shooting her a charmingly wry smile. Her heart gave another jump in response, then a squeeze for good measure.
She inclined her head. “Ah. And what have you discovered thus far?”
He blew out a breath and grinned, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Not a whole hell of a lot, actually.”
She laughed, finding both the admission and the accompanying smile ridiculously endearing. “I know what you mean,” she murmured under her breath, her eyes widening significantly. Her gaze darted ahead. That was definitely a bed and breakfast. The Waterhouse, the sign said. It sounded wonderful. Beyond wonderful. Heavenly. Though she was thrilled to be walking with him and appreciated his company, she quickened her pace.
“In a hurry now, are you?” Laughter lurked in his voice.
“There’s a B&B ahead and I’m beat.”
“You passed two already,” he remarked.
“Did I?” she asked breezily, knowing full well that she had. She cast him a sidelong glance and that bizarre sense of expectancy struck her again. She hadn’t looked forward to the evening alone, but now that he was walking with her—and clearly had no intention of leaving her—her outlook had changed.
Most drastically.
In fact, she might be inclined to forgive Jeffrey more quickly than anticipated because she suspected her friend had, through his own selfish nature, done her a big favor.
And that big favor was walking right beside her.
4
HER CHEEKS PINKENED from the change in temperature, a rosier hue on her especially ripe mouth, Gemma Wentworth was even prettier in proper lighting. There was a stubbornness in the tilt of her chin, and something about her up-turned nose and the slope of her jaw, the creamy porcelain skin, was particularly adorable.
Just looking at her—and he couldn’t seem to be able to keep from looking at her—made an odd sensation swell in his chest. Though he’d only met her, everything about her seemed strangely familiar, new but…not. His hands perpetually itched to touch her—just to feel her skin against his—and though it was counterproductive to what he was supposed to be doing on this walk, he knew that he was going to have to touch her.
A lot.
In intimate places.
Furthermore, though it sounded improbable to his own mind, he felt on a level deeper than logic and intuition that he was supposed to meet her, that their paths had crossed for a reason. He could feel that connection even now—a low thrum between them—and wondered if she sensed it as well.
With brisk efficiency the innkeeper checked them in and assigned rooms. “Dinner’s over, of course, but I’ve got meat pies, bread and cheese.”
Gemma shuddered with unabashed delight. “That sounds marvelous.”
The older lady smiled kindly. “Why don’t you go upstairs and wash up and I’ll put a tray in the parlor for you?”
“Thank you,” Gemma told her.
“Hungry, are you?” Ewan asked her as he followed her upstairs.
She shot him a look over her shoulder. “Ravenous,” she admitted. “I skipped lunch and the granola I snacked on along the way isn’t staying with me.”
She’d likely lost her appetite at lunch, Ewan ruminated, when her friend bailed on her. Best friend or not, that was badly done. Of course, Ewan was reaping the benefits of Jeffrey’s bad behavior, so he wasn’t going to rake the man over the coals too much. Had her friend not left her, no doubt he’d still be watching her from a distance instead of basking in her company. Point of fact, if he ever saw Jeffrey again, he probably should thank him.
“Ah, here we are,” Gemma said, slipping her key into the lock. She shot him a gratifyingly hopeful look. “See you downstairs?”
“Certainly,” he said. “I’m pretty hungry myself.” He could quite happily eat her up, as a matter of fact. He imagined licking a path up her inner thigh and felt his dick harden.
Damn, he was in trouble.
She smiled then, almost shyly, and then turned and ducked into her room. Ewan released a pent-up sigh and shook his head at his own stupidity. He found his own room, fortuitously located right across the hall from hers, then let himself inside. Single bed, floral wallpaper, local prints. Lacy curtains covered the windows and a door opened to the en suite bath. Though he hadn’t planned on doing any checking in, he pulled his cell phone from his backpack and called Cam, his younger brother.
Predictably, he was busy—a tour bus of happy murder mystery party goers were en route to the castle and a stalking party had just left for a two-day hunt—but also predictably, Cam always had time for a chat.
“I didn’t expect to hear from you,” his brother said. “I take it the road of enlightenment hasn’t been too illuminating?”
Ewan chuckled. “Something like that, yes.”
“Keep wandering, big brother. It’ll come together for you. And if what comes together for you doesn’t coincide with Dad’s plans, then so be it. Sometimes you have to fight for what’s important.”
Cam knew all about that, Ewan thought. He’d certainly bucked the status quo when he’d gone against their father’s wishes and bought his estate. But Cam had always been like that—fearless, always ready for a challenge and never afraid to face life head-on.
“What makes you so sure that he doesn’t think you’ll come through for him?” Ewan asked. “Don’t think that he has given up on the idea,” he warned him.
Cam chuckled darkly. “He might as well,” he said. “I know where I belong and it’s here at Castle MacKinnon.”
He envied him that knowledge, Ewan thought with an inward sigh.
“Alec is dead set against taking over the company as well,” Cam said.
“Even if Dad let him do it from a boat?” Ewan teased. His youngest brother had an affinity for the water that bordered on the mystical. He’d been obsessed with floating things from the time he was a little kid and had studied with one of Scotland’s premiere boat builders. He was happiest, they all knew, when he was on the seas, looking at a horizon. Hell, even when he came home he was taking the skiff out on the loch in front of the house within half an hour of being there. His soul would shrivel up and die if he had to take over for their father.
“Genevieve called me yesterday,” Cam said. “She’s losing patience. Dad told her that when one of us stepped up to do our duty he’d stop relying on her so much.”
Ouch. He could see where his sister, who’d been their father’s shadow since she was old enough to walk, would have a problem with that.
“For such a smart man, he’s been unforgivably stupid, don’t you think?” Cam remarked. “Genevieve is the obvious best choice. Why can’t he see it?”
“Who knows?” Ewan said. “Mom’s going to have to say something, I think.”
“She doesn’t want to interfere and says that it’s better if Dad works it out on his own.”
“But he’s not working it out.”
“When the three of us refuse, he’ll have no other choice, right?” He hated forcing his father’s hand like that because it made him feel ungrateful when, in truth, he wasn’t. He just wanted to do his own thing, that was all.
Of course, his argument would be better if he actually had his own thing.
Instead of coming up with a viable job in the company, what he really wanted was to go to Haiti and help the earthquake victims. According to the article he’d recently read about the need, there were more than fifty-five thousand people still living in tents. He had no idea what he would do—what he could do even—but he was able and willing to do whatever was needed. There was honor in that purpose, a sense of satisfaction from knowing that whatever he did was going to make a difference. Was that too much to ask?
After catching up on a few more things and promising to call when he reached Fort William, Ewan disconnected. He made quick work of unpacking his bag, washed up and made the return trek back downstairs to the parlor.
He was taking his first sip of hot tea when Gemma entered the room. She’d exchanged her boots for pink bunny slippers and had taken her hair out of the ponytail she’d worn all day. Long fawn-colored curls—the exact shade of tablet candy, his favorite, naturally—tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. She’d washed her face, making her nose and cheeks shiny in the firelight. He didn’t know what was more endearing, that glowing button nose, or the slippers.
“Better?” he asked, feeling unaccountably nervous. This woman did something to him, affected him on a cellular level.
She settled into the chair opposite him and selected a meat pie from the tray. “Immensely,” she said, taking a bite. She groaned with delight.
She had the sexiest mouth, Ewan noted. Full and bow-shaped, the lower lip considerably plumper than the upper. She had a bit of pastry stuck in the corner and he watched with rapt attention as her pink tongue darted out and captured the errant bit. He knew she didn’t mean it as a sexy gesture, but that didn’t keep his blood from heating all the same. The nagging sense of awareness that had plagued him since again setting eyes on her had quadrupled in the past hour, pushing an already irrational attraction into especially dangerous territory.
Ewan was well acquainted with sexual desire and every nuance that entailed. What he wasn’t used to was wanting someone with this level of intensity. The combination of the virulent attraction and the warm, melting sensation in his chest when he looked at this particular female was, in a word, terrifying.
If this desire didn’t begin to wane soon then he might just self-combust.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. “You look a little strange.”
True enough, he imagined. He certainly felt strange. “I’m fine,” he said, expelling a heavy breath through a grim smile. He helped himself to a piece of bread.
“So I take it you’re going to continue on to Fort William?” He knew the answer, of course, but needed a conversational opener.
Chewing thoughtfully, she nodded. “Of course. Jeffrey was here for company, but my goal hasn’t changed. This is a rite of passage,” she said. “Both my mother and grandmother have made the walk.” She frowned. “I thought I’d mentioned—”
He nodded. “You did,” he said.
“I’ve come to a bit of a crossroads in my life,” she admitted, another scowl wrinkling her brow. “One path is clearly marked and utterly unfulfilling.”
That sounded eerily familiar, Ewan thought. He took a sip of tea. “And the other path?”
She smiled and let go a whooshing sigh. “That one is completely dark,” she said, laughing. “In fact, I’m not even sure there’s a path there. More like a goat trail.”
He chuckled, sensing a kinship he hadn’t expected. He knew the West Highland Way was a lot of things to a lot of different people, but what were the chances of him finding someone as interesting with the same reason as himself for making the journey? Call it coincidence or fate, he’d been right when he’d thought there was a reason for them meeting.
“What about you?” she asked. “What made you decide to take the walk?”
“I’m dealing with my own goat trail,” he said. “I take it you’ve never been on a hike like this before?”
She smiled and leaned back fully into her chair. She crossed her legs and a slippered foot bobbed up and down, making the bunny ears flop. “Er…no, unless you count hiking from one end of the mall to the other. I’ve walked a lot of Civil War battlefields though, so in a way I guess that has helped. Physically, I can go a lot farther than my feet can, if that makes sense.”
“New shoes?”
She winced adorably. “That was a mistake, wasn’t it? My mother warned me.”
He chuckled. “Look at it this way. They’ll be good and broken in by the time you’ve finished.”
She laughed, the sound soft and husky. “I’ll try to remember that tomorrow night when my blisters burst.”
“It’s the socks,” he told her. “You need merino wool.”
She gasped, feigning outrage. “My father’s a third-generation cotton farmer. He’d have a problem with that.”
“He’d want you to be miserable?”
“No,” she said, laughing. “It was a joke.”
“So your father isn’t a cotton farmer?”
She grinned. “Nope, he’s an accountant. These miraculous socks you speak of, where can I find them?”
“I’ll loan you a pair until we can find a shop that carries them.”
“Much appreciated, thanks.” She looked at him from beneath lowered lashes. “So why didn’t you pass me today? Have you adopted me as your damsel in distress?”
He felt his mouth twitch with a grin and took another sip of tea, wishing it was something stronger. “Something like that, yes.”
She winced. “While appreciated, you really don’t have to do that. I can manage on my own. I’ll stick to the path. Were something to happen, someone would be along soon enough to help me.”
She was right and yet he knew he wouldn’t leave her. For reasons which escaped him, he couldn’t. Since there was no way he could confess that to her—how could he admit something he couldn’t even explain?—he decided to take a different tack. He passed a hand over his face and donned what he hoped resembled an appropriately sheepish expression.
“Unless you object to making the walk with me, I’d rather us stay together. I started this journey on my own and, to be honest, it’s a bit lonelier than I expected.” He essayed a smile. “Evidently I don’t like my own company as much as I thought I did.”
She studied him a minute, a direct gaze that seemed to somehow take his measure, peer directly into his soul. “I don’t object,” she said, and there was an inflection in her voice that alerted him to the fact that she’d just made some sort of decision. “I started this journey with a companion and am now on my own.” She peered at him from beneath a sweep of dark lashes. “Looks like we need each other, doesn’t it?”
Need wasn’t nearly a strong enough word.
He nodded, unable to speak.
“I should probably call it a night,” she said, getting to her feet. “We’ve got an early morning and, if the itinerary I’m following is to be believed, that large conic mountain looming in the distance is Ben More.”
“It is,” he confirmed. “A bit of a steepish climb.” He stood himself.
She paused. “Thanks, Ewan,” she said.
“For what?”
“For making sure that I was all right. It was a nice thing to do.”
“Would I lose your good opinion if I said I had ulterior motives?” he asked, sidling closer to her.
A grin turned the corners of her lips and she chuckled softly, then bent forward and pressed a kiss against his mouth. Blood boiled beneath the surface of his skin and a sensation so exquisite it stopped the breath in his lungs ricocheted through him. Every muscle in his body went rigid, then seemed to liquefy beneath her soft lips. She tasted like tea and strawberry jam and something else…something that was much more substantial.
Just as he finally came to his senses enough to deepen the kiss, she drew back and smiled, her warm eyes sparkling with delight and enough uncertainty to stroke his ego.
“I suspect our motives are the same,” she said. “Goodnight, Ewan.”
