Scotland For Christmas Part 12

If you let yourself do this with him, then you are setting yourself up for a world of pain....

Jacob was fighting the battle, too.

They were both losing.

He took her hand again. This time he led her farther from the great room with the dancing and the merriment to a quiet corner near the fireplace in the lobby, where no one else could see them.

His rough hand cupped her cheek, and he pressed his lips to hers.

She drew in her breath before hesitantly kissing him back, her heart skittering in her chest.

This was the first time she'd kissed any man besides Alex, and it was a bit of a shock that she was even doing it. A kiss was such an intimate thing.

But Jacob steadied her. He was gentle at first, and sweet. A hand to the back of her head, his fingers drifting through her hair.

But there was fire inside him, too, and their kiss inevitably deepened. She tasted mint on his tongue. She found herself making a breathless moan. Pressed against him, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to his hard chest. Her mind unable to think.

She caressed the edge of his throat beneath his shirt. His skin felt so hot...

A noise sounded behind Jacob.

Isabel broke their kiss just in time to see a group of men entering the front doors.

Uncle John!

She gasped and stepped back from Jacob, her hand to her lips.

Her uncle was surrounded by an entourage, with his personal a.s.sistant and three security men. He looked travel-weary and tired in his business suit, not kilt, but he wasn't tired enough that he didn't notice her staring at him.

He paused for a moment and blinked, as if questioning what she was doing.

Just ten seconds earlier, he would have seen her kissing Jacob Ross. A stranger. A man who wasn't Alex.

She needed to be more careful in future.

Jacob turned to follow her gaze. "Is that John Sage?" he muttered.

"Yes," Isabel murmured. "I'm sorry, but I need to go talk with him now."

CHAPTER SIX.

HER HEART POUNDING, Isabel strode toward the concierge desk, where her uncle conferred with his entourage. They'd already closed ranks around him, led by her uncle's quietly efficient a.s.sistant and followed by the three burly bodyguards who were trained to antic.i.p.ate threats. But she needed to talk to him, not only about Jacob, but also about the fact that she was coming home to Scotland soon.

She stood before him and quietly clasped her hands. "h.e.l.lo, Uncle," Isabel said. "It's good to see you."

"h.e.l.lo, Isabel." Her uncle inclined his head and smiled slightly at her. A short, balding man, Uncle John was polite with her, though he never seemed particularly pleased to see her, the way he did with Malcolm or Rhiannon.

"Is there anything I can get you or help you with?" she asked. He appeared well to her, but if he was ill, he would keep it hidden. For now, he just looked tired, and for him, ruffled. Earlier, Malcolm had mentioned that his plane had been rerouted to a smaller regional airport. That had to be exhausting. "I'm sorry about the delay with your flight."

"Thank you," he murmured. He glanced at his watch as if he were on a tight schedule, which he usually was. He was a man who stayed in the background. Typically surrounded by his a.s.sistant and bodyguards, he rarely even met with people on his own staff. She knew it was unlikely that she'd be able to speak to him about anything of substance this evening.

"As a matter of fact, there is something you could do," he said. "Kindly find Malcolm and let him know I'd like to see him."

Of course he wanted Malcolm. No surprise there.

But she smiled at him with a more pleasant expression than the one he'd given her. "Yes, Uncle. I'll go find him now."

She paused for a moment. "Later, may I also talk with you, as well?" she asked, keeping a positive tone. "I'm almost finished with my studies in New York, and I'd like to set up some time with you to discuss my next steps. You know I'm interested in a leadership position."

"When Malcolm and I are finished, if there's time, then you and I will chat," he said patiently.

She nodded, holding back her disappointment. This was probably the best she could hope to receive from him, given the occasion.

Isabel pulled her shawl around her shoulders and headed for the function room, where a full Celtic band, including a bagpiper, a drummer and two electric guitarists, were playing a raucous cover version of Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven."

They were still on the slow part, and the wedding guests swayed close together as they danced in pairs.

She glanced around for Jacob, but she didn't see him. Later, she needed to find him. It had all turned so complicated on her, and so unexpectedly.

As she pa.s.sed a mirror, she caught sight of her mussed hair, her smeared lipstick and her flushed cheeks.

Inwardly, she groaned. Yes, she had thoroughly enjoyed Jacob's kiss. Yes, she would gladly take another. But for the moment, she needed her uncle to think she was worthy of leading a major company and was most concerned with business, as he was.

She quickly smoothed her hair and fixed her makeup, then set about looking for Malcolm.

JACOB STOOD AT the fringes of the lobby. No one paid any attention to him. Isabel had left, gone back to the wedding reception.

The security detail-amateurs, was Jacob's admittedly harsh a.s.sessment of the three guards who hadn't even secured the perimeter-waited for Sage. Sage himself spoke in low murmurs to the employee behind the front desk.

Jacob shifted from one foot to the next. Now what?

He'd come to Vermont for one reason, and that was to talk with the Scottish industrialist. Isabel had made him forget that. Jacob had been distracted by his attraction to her, the only woman he'd ever met who might honestly be able to understand where he'd come from.

He'd fallen for her courage. Her sweetness. The way she made him laugh. For that little moan she'd made in her throat when he'd pulled her so tightly against him there hadn't been any doubt what his intentions were.

Just...d.a.m.n.

All sorts of small things had been torturing him about her and driving him crazy since they'd met. That poem she'd performed-her voice cracking at the phrase ten thousand miles-had only added fuel to an already roaring fire, as had the Ross kilt, and the fact they'd teamed up to survive this wedding together.

It had been a bonfire of distractions that had crept up under Jacob's usual lone-wolf defenses.

Being "intense"-honest with her, to his mind-had made it all worse because she had responded to it. He still could push things physically with her, if he wanted to.

But if he didn't shut down his feelings for her, fast, he wouldn't be able to salvage his mission.

He couldn't want her any longer because he couldn't have her any longer.

The two of them were headed in opposite directions. She was a mistake that he couldn't let happen again.

He took out another stick of gum, covering up the taste of her. Even after she'd left, her perfume seemed to cling to him. The trouble was, he liked what she chose.

Enough. He reverted to Special Agent Ross mode. Surveyed the scene. Observed every movement Sage made and bided his time.

He listened to Sage convince the front desk clerk to relinquish the key to a small conference room located off the main lobby. Jacob knew about it because he'd done his due diligence and had scoped out all the rooms and cubbyholes and exits in the old colonial-era building.

At the last minute, though, Sage changed his mind and diverted his path to the lobby men's room, disappearing inside as one of the bodyguards planted himself before the entrance door, legs spread, hands clasped.

This was where a Secret Service badge came in handy. Jacob was in luck, too, because a men's room was the only place that guaranteed him a conversation that Isabel couldn't overhear.

Jacob headed for the men's room, too. On the way, he opened the leather man-purse thing-sporran, Isabel had called it-and grabbed his ID. He wished he had his radio and a backup team with him, but if he handled this encounter well, soon Jacob could be on his way to Washington and the Presidential Protective Division.

Sage's security guard stationed outside the door shook his head at Jacob. "Nope."

Jacob made the universal "I really have to go" look.

The security guard didn't buy it. Jacob sighed and made a show of displaying his ID. "I'm off duty. I'm a guest at the wedding."

"You're in the Secret Service?"

"I am. In the New York field office."

The guard looked impressed, maybe because Jacob actually had jurisdiction to arrest people. "Go ahead, sir. Just please don't speak to Mr. Sage. His orders."

"Right." Two steps forward and Jacob was inside. A shot of adrenaline swept through his system as he quickly scanned the room.

Sage was alone at a sink washing his hands, getting ready to leave.

Jacob knew he had little time to make his appeal. The smartest thing was to be direct. He'd rehea.r.s.ed this speech in his mind many times these past few days.

"Mr. Sage," Jacob said calmly. "My name is Jacob Ross. I'm a U.S. Secret Service agent." Leaning on the power of that authority, he showed his badge again. "Sorry for interrupting you, but what I need to ask has to be kept confidential."

With slow, calm, deliberate motion, John Sage shook his hands dry. "Is everything all right?" he asked blandly. The man was cool, no doubt about that.

"I'm here," Jacob said, "because I need to understand, from an operational viewpoint, what happened to my father, Donald Ross. All I know is that he was killed in a rescue mission involving your niece and nephew twenty years ago. I've spoken to inspectors at the police department in Edinburgh, but as I understand it from them, there's very little available in the way of old files. Their advice was that I talk with you."

"Did they also tell you to approach me at my nephew's wedding?"

Jacob ignored the subtle cut. "I was given your name as someone who would be helpful to me, and this venue is the only place I had access to you. I apologize for that, but it's critical for me that we talk."

Sage finished drying his hands.

Even more so than Isabel, Sage didn't allow emotion to show on his face. He was serious, in his suit and his tie, and not a kilt like Jacob wore. He struck Jacob as a man who ran his business and kept it very close to the vest.

Jacob waited for the reaction. The truth was that he had no formal power to force an interview.

"If you have twenty minutes available anytime before you leave, then I would appreciate it," Jacob said quietly, because what else could he do?

He didn't know how else to get what he needed. Isabel couldn't help him any more than she already had. The nephew-the groom-couldn't help, either, because he didn't know enough. Sage held all the cards.

"I've always been an admirer of those in the U.S. Secret Service," Sage said pleasantly, meeting Jacob's gaze as he did so. Jacob recognized that he was in the presence of a master diplomat. "I've done some research on my own about your mission, and I respect it very much. It's impressive."

"Thank you," Jacob murmured.

"I'm particularly intrigued by your specialized training. It's why I enjoy hiring those with your unique skills. In fact, I have a request for you. I'd like you to watch over Isabel during the next weeks, before she leaves New York City, finishing her degree and returning home to Scotland."

"I'm not looking for a job," Jacob said. "And I'm not available for hire like you're requesting."

"You misunderstand," Sage said pleasantly. Just then, the door creaked open. It was the security guard, checking on them.

Sage waved him back. "We're fine, thank you." The door closed.

He turned his attention back to Jacob. "I want you to check on Isabel discreetly for me, as a personal favor, not a formal job."

"You're right, I don't understand."

"I need to know specifically if Isabel is speaking with any American media outlets or even to someone who in turn may be leaking information regarding the company," Sage said. "There's been an internal breach, which I hope will not be devastating to us. I'm investigating all the top staff as a matter of formality."

"No. I can't do that. I can't betray her like that." He wasn't Alex.

Sage regarded him silently for a moment, that calm expression never leaving his face. "That's a shame," he murmured.

Sage turned and looked in the mirror, straightening his tie one last time.

In a moment, he would be gone. This all was part of a negotiation, Jacob realized. Sage had turned the tables on him, a clever proposal so he could keep some leverage with Jacob, as well as with Isabel.

Sage had to know that Jacob was Isabel's driver this weekend.

"Will you grant my request?" Jacob asked.

"I feel for your situation, I really do, but I simply don't have time this evening to talk with you. I'm leaving within the hour."

"If I'd agreed to investigate Isabel for you," Jacob asked, "were you prepared to give me what I need?"

Sage met his eyes in the mirror. He still had no expression except a bland agreeability. "As a matter of fact, I was prepared to invite you to my private home in Scotland over the holidays, where we might have more time to talk. Perhaps I could have invited some...people-" Jacob a.s.sumed he meant people who knew his father "-in order to help you find the answers you need."

It was a stunning offer-much more than Jacob had expected.

Isabel would kill for this invitation. Jacob didn't know why he'd thought of that. It wasn't fair that he'd received it so easily.

"I can't betray Isabel," he repeated aloud.