Scotland For Christmas Part 17

"Excuse me," Isabel said. "I'll be right back."

Jacob's eyes were still boring a hole in her, so she walked over and sat on the empty stool beside him.

"Did you do your investigative due diligence?" Jacob asked.

"Well," she drawled, carefully crossing her legs and placing her hands over the gap on her tights where her dress drew back from her tall boots, "I've learned nothing but normal, everyday things about you, stuff that I already knew. And then, out of the blue, Donna mentions that you paint. Do you paint, Jacob?"

He laughed dryly. "Donna exaggerates."

"She says you refused to paint a mural for Alden." Isabel glanced over at the wee bairn, who was now being pa.s.sed between his mum and his dad, each of them cooing over his whimpering cries. Actually, Eddie was now sniffing his wee b.u.m. "Is that true, Jacob? You told them no?"

"Is that a problem if it is?" Jacob crossed his arms. "I refuse to do a lot of things that people ask me to do, as a matter of principle."

"Yes, I can see that," she said calmly.

Jacob's lips quirked, as if she was making him smile and he didn't want to smile. "Is that a deal breaker for you?"

"It depends," she said. "Don't you think that Alden might like a mural someday?"

They both glanced over at the infant. Donna had grabbed the diaper bag and was rushing him toward the toilets.

"Would you do it?" Jacob asked.

Was he talking about the mural or the nappy change? She was confused. "Well, truthfully, yes, I would paint the mural, but I would do it, er, to serve my friend and give him something comforting to look at." She smiled at Jacob. "But I think I understand why you won't do it."

Jacob leaned very close to her. Into her s.p.a.ce. "And what's that you think you understand about me?" he said in a low voice.

She wanted to fan her flushed face, but she didn't. Instead, she leaned even closer to him, her heart beating more quickly. "I've noticed you don't do something just because someone asks you. It has to mean something to you."

"And where do you get that from?"

"Well, the only reason you kept helping me at that wedding was because you saw what happened to me with Alex. And you'd been through it, too. It was meaningful to you, and that made you want to help me, in your way, in your time. Isn't it?"

"This is about a mural, Isabel."

"Yes, and you didn't paint it because you want the gift to him to be your expression, your idea, on your terms and with your meaning. Don't you?"

JACOB STARED AT HER. She'd shocked him. That was probably as close as anyone had ever come to getting him.

"And I think that's perfectly valid," she whispered.

She had cast her spell on him yet again. He couldn't keep his eyes from her. Couldn't keep from moving closer and closer into her orbit.

Isabel Sage was cla.s.sy and perfect and successful. Jacob had no doubt she would fit in smoothly and completely wherever he took her, never showing discomfort.

"The truth is," Jacob said, "I don't paint murals. But I do sketches sometimes."

Isabel's gaze flicked to a piece of artwork on the wall behind him. "Like that?" She pointed.

"No, not landscapes," he said.

"People? Do you draw portraits?"

"Is this part of your investigation of me?"

She smiled slightly. "No. My uncle doesn't care about this sort of thing."

So she had been checking him out for Sage. It didn't surprise him. He took a swig of his beer, now getting warm, since he'd been playing with Alden and concentrating on her. "I want to know about you, Isabel."

But not about her phone calls and her finances. He personally didn't give a d.a.m.n about those. "What do you do at home in Edinburgh? What do you like, really?"

"Besides work?" She lazily stretched her fingers against her legs.

He nodded, waiting, because there was more to her. He wanted to see deeper.

"Sometimes, on weekends, I go to the National Portrait Gallery by myself and I walk around for no reason. My uncle is a donor there. Sometimes I sit and meditate on one of the benches inside. It's peaceful."

She glanced up at him, beneath her eyelashes. "Actually, Rhiannon is the one who paints. My uncle helps her sell her landscapes. They do very well, monetarily."

He stared sharply at her.

"You remember my cousin Rhiannon?" she asked.

Yes, he remembered. The woman from the monitor, at the wedding. The one who'd been kidnapped when his father had died. "I do," he said softly.

"Well, that's what she does inside her castle, she paints landscapes. I suppose it's her therapy, her way of expressing herself and coping." Isabel looked so sad. Maybe she felt a longing to fix her family. Maybe, like him, she just couldn't do it.

"What kind of landscapes does she paint?" he asked.

"Pleasant places. Beautiful places. The countryside near the castle. She walks a lot, in the Highlands." A line appeared in her brow.

"Do you ever visit her?"

Isabel shook her head. "We were friends as children, but then, afterward...she stopped wanting to see anyone but Malcolm." She shrugged. "I have my life in the city, as I've said."

"What else do you do there?"

"I told you, I work. I love my work. My last project before I came to New York involved developing a marketing campaign for our new lipstick line. For years, I've worked small projects in just about every department in our company, but that was my favorite. Marketing is intuitive. It's less about numbers and accounting and tax rates, and I like that." She glanced at him. He had the impression she was reading his face, adjusting what she told him based on his approval. It was easy for him to smile at her-he did admire her. On many levels he was growing to understand her.

"How about after work?" he said. "At the end of the day? What do you like to do then?"

"Well," she continued, "let's see... I enjoy films. I read. I walk around the city...."

"Aren't you worried about security?"

"I stay low-key, remember?" she said playfully. "Besides, I take a yearly self-defense cla.s.s." She winked at him. "I could flip you on your back if I wanted to."

He smiled, doubting that very much. "Do you use a private driver for protection?"

"At home? No, I drive myself. Here...it's the wrong side of the road for me, and you have a much bigger, more confusing system, so I'd rather not drive."

"Do you walk around Manhattan the way you walk around Edinburgh?"

"My, aren't you asking a lot of questions about me." She laughed lightly. "The answer is...no, not until very recently. It's mostly a matter of my being busy," she said quickly. "I'm taking five courses per semester, four semesters in a row without break. I'm here to gain knowledge my company can use. And then, I'm to go home and hopefully get promoted so I'm on track to be my uncle's successor. That is my plan."

"What if you don't get promoted?"

"Then I will be terribly upset." She pulled a tragic face for him. "Seriously, it's the most important thing to me. Which is why I very much would like you to agree to come to Edinburgh with me for Christmas. Think about it, Jacob."

Ah. And so she had circled back to the thing neither of them could avoid. "How, exactly, will it help you to have me there?" he asked.

"Well, my uncle obviously sees something in you that interests him. He's never seemed to see as much in me." She sighed. "Or he hasn't thus far. But I'm going to make him see the advantages I have over Malcolm. I'd a.s.sumed top-shelf grades would do the trick, but..."

She shrugged. "At the wedding this weekend I learned that I need to speed up my timetable. I need reasons for him to spend time with me. And that's why you have to come home with me for Christmas." She looked brightly at him.

Yes, he did need to go to Edinburgh to see her uncle. But not for the reasons she thought.

"ISABEL DIDN'T DO anything that would harm her family's company," Jacob said to Eddie later. "She didn't leak any stories or give company secrets to the media. I'd stake my life on it."

"Then why did Sage ask you to investigate her?" Eddie asked.

Jacob patted Alden's back. He was freshly diapered now, and yawning, his thumb aiming for his mouth and getting ready for a big sleep, which gave Jacob some level of satisfaction.

Jacob was getting awfully used to this little guy. The two of them were buddies now. "I'm not actually sure yet," he said in response to Eddie's question.

"Attention, everyone!" Donna clapped her hands as two servers brought in a large sheet cake, decorated with the words Congratulations, Eddie! and lit with a ring of candles.

Jacob felt happy for his friend, but he didn't feel so great for himself-he couldn't lie about that.

So he carried Alden to the back wall and stood by, watching from afar while their colleagues and their spouses and partners sang and made a big deal about the celebration for Eddie's promotion.

Donna came over and lifted the sleeping Alden from his arms. "Thanks for being good to my baby." And then Jacob was alone again.

"May I talk with you a minute?" Isabel asked softly beside him.

She'd crept up on him; Jacob hadn't even noticed. He nodded and then followed her as she led him out of the banquet room. They skirted the crowd of his friends, who were now pa.s.sing out cards and presents to Eddie. Joke gifts, it looked like, and small things that were meaningful only to their group.

Turning away, he let Isabel lead him to the top landing on the empty stairway. The air was cooler out here. Jacob stood against the wall beside her and exhaled, leaning his head back.

She dug inside her big handbag and drew out a package. "This is for you." She held the packet out to him, wrapped up like a present, with foil wrapping paper and a red bow.

He slowly took it from her. "Why? This is Eddie's party."

"I know. Donna told me when she called there was to be a cake and gifts. I barely know Eddie or Donna, but I know you. And I know how bad it feels to be overlooked, especially when you really want something, so..."

She lowered her chin. "I just want you to know that there's somebody who appreciates you, even if you didn't get the prize that you wanted. Not yet, anyway."

He stood holding her present, feeling as if something had just exploded inside him.

"Open it," she urged.

His gaze down, away from looking at her, he peeled away the paper and opened the box.

It was a soft, woolen scarf in a green, blue and black plaid pattern. "Is this your family tartan?"

"No. This is Black Watch. It represents the most famous military regiment in my country, with a long, elite history. And it, well...it reminded me of you. What you stand for. The Secret Service, I mean. The...best and most faithful at what they do, no matter the obstacles against them."

He touched the soft wool, not able to lift his eyes, not able to look at her. This sweet, sweet woman. He took the scarf from the box and placed it around his neck. "Thanks," he said gruffly.

"Isabel!" Donna poked her head into the hallway. She noticed Jacob. "Oh, never mind. You're busy."

"That's okay." Isabel smiled at Alden in his mother's arms and made a move to follow her, but Jacob touched her arm.

"You could have your own someday," he murmured, nodding toward the baby. "You don't have to do this."

She smiled sadly at Jacob and shook her head. "No. I don't think that will be possible for me. And yes, I do have to do this."

"Right." He nodded. He could understand her because he was the same way. They both had their chosen lives. That's what they'd been telling one another all evening, in essence. It honestly wouldn't be possible for him to have children, either. Not in a dangerous job like his. He wasn't like Eddie in that respect.

But Isabel looked so sad. She was lonely in Scotland, too. He'd felt that when he'd been with her at the wedding. He was sure that she didn't get out and see people, or watch films, or read books as much as she said she did, or as much as she wanted to.

He dropped his hand, and she headed into the room with the others. He stroked the scarf around his neck. He just...wanted to do something for her. Something to make her feel less lonely. Something to let her know that she meant something to him.

On a whim, he went in and found Eddie. "Will you watch Isabel for me? Don't let her leave yet."

"Why? Where are you going?"

"Nowhere. I'll be back in twenty minutes."

LATER, AFTER JACOB dropped Isabel off in the SUV at her residence hall and insisted on walking her to the lobby, he caught her hand before she could press the b.u.t.ton for the lift.

She wondered, briefly, if he was going to kiss her again. She'd been looking at his mouth so much during the drive home, watching it as the shadows pa.s.sed over them from darkness to light.

His lips quirked when he talked sometimes. They were expressive lips. She remembered how they felt when she'd kissed them. How they tasted...

But he didn't lean in to kiss her. He hadn't come close. He just pa.s.sed a piece of folded paper into her hand and muttered a quick good-night before he left her alone again.

Up in her room, with the door closed, she opened the folded paper. To her shock, it was a pencil sketch of her, most flattering, cleverly making her appear far more attractive than she actually was.

But it was her face, no doubt about it, surrounded with flowers. Below was a stylized caption: "A Red, Red Rose."

She stared, blinking at his small gift. Her heart felt full to overflowing. Was this how he saw her-beautiful and worthy of romantic feelings? And what he thought of her-moved enough to express the truth of his heart?