Scotland For Christmas Part 4

Her face pale, Isabel pressed forward. "What if we...gave ourselves a break for now? After I'm home, we'll start fresh with a conversation then."

"I want to be friends with you," Alex said. "Just friends. That's all that I want."

She took a deep breath. Jacob wasn't sure she was getting what the guy was telling her. "I understand you're angry with me," she said to Alex.

"I'm not angry, Bell."

"You...want more of my attention."

"No. I'm ending it with you."

"But that's...daft," she said, her voice getting even softer. "We've been together since we were children."

"We were never together. Not truly. I don't expect you to understand. I didn't understand myself until recently. But...oh, b.o.l.l.o.c.ks. I didn't want to tell you this way, but...I'll just say it. I've met somebody, all right?"

"You...met somebody?" she repeated. Jacob waited for light to dawn. Or maybe she was just controlling her emotions as best she could.

"I'm seeing this woman," Alex said. He spoke softly, his head down, staring at the table. Jacob felt himself heating inside. "I tried, Bell. I tried to make this work with us. But you're meant for other things."

"Alex, let's go back to my flat. I'll introduce you to my mates. You'll...be part of my life here."

"See. Look at you. Any other woman who'd just been told that her man was seeing someone else would be furious. Or perhaps hurt. But you don't feel like other women, Bell. It's not natural."

Isabel crossed her arms. "I a.s.sure you, I feel. Very much. And right now I feel...I feel that we can fix this temporary rift." She smiled bravely. "If we both want to."

Alex glanced at his watch. "I have to go. I flew all the way here just so I could tell you in person. I'm not a bad bloke. I'm not breaking up by text message."

"Alex-"

"Do I have to say it, Bell? Fine, you've made me say it." Alex stared hard at the table. "I'm in love with her."

Isabel's mask split then. Wide open. Her look of anguish hit Jacob with a jolt.

"I didn't mean for it to happen, but it did," Alex said. "I asked her to marry me and she said yes. We're planning a small wedding in June, at home."

The pain on Isabel's face touched Jacob. Her lips quivered. Her eyes watered. She seemed to be struggling to breathe.

But Jacob gave her credit. Because with a grit of her teeth and a fierce blink of her eyes, she controlled herself again. He could see the effort it took her to swallow the hurt, but she did. Bravely, she found her mask and put it on again.

By the time Alex-now Alex the ex-glanced up from his escape into checking his phone messages, Isabel was composed again. Her slip had been brief, and Jacob was sure he was the only person who'd seen it. Alex the ex certainly hadn't.

"You're handling this well." Alex gave her a relieved smile. Unlike Isabel, he showed all his emotions on his face, in his vocal inflection, in his posture. "I knew you would, Bell. You handle everything like a champ."

Alex coughed and stood. "Well, that's sorted then. The meter's running on my taxi. I have to go. But you'll do well, I know you." He had the temerity to smile at her in relief. "Look at you. Not a tear. Never a worry with you. That's why I'm sure you'll run your uncle's company someday. Isabel Sage, CEO of Sage Family Products. No doubt you'll be the one chosen."

And then Alex leaned in and gave Isabel a bloke's awkward fake-hug. Alex wasn't even looking at her, not really. She kept her composure, and Jacob gave her credit for that. In her shoes, Jacob would have wound up and slugged the guy.

No, he wouldn't have.

When it had happened to him, Jacob hadn't slugged anybody. He'd stood stoically by while his ex had given him much the same kind of speech as Alex.

You know what your problem is, Jacob? You're too intense. No one could live with that level of intensity every day.

Jacob got up from the table and shoved his phone into his pocket. He hadn't thought about this stuff in years and years. And he wasn't going to think about it again.

Isabel. Now that Alex was out the door and on the sidewalk, about to be whisked away by his cab with the running meter, Isabel was left alone. Thinking that no one was watching, she put her hand to her mouth. Jacob knew that no one-not one human on earth-could fake their feelings for too long, and Isabel Sage was definitely human. Her mask had crumpled, her face was turning green and she looked as if she was going to lose it.

Thinking fast, Jacob grabbed a pile of napkins from the counter and followed her.

She was running-stumbling, really-for the ladies' room. This being New York City, no one seemed to notice. She could have stripped naked and belted out a breakup song at the top of her lungs with a full orchestra supporting her, and no one would have given her a second look.

He really needed to get the h.e.l.l out of New York someday. G.o.d, he was trying. If not for that d.a.m.n psychologist, he'd be in Washington, D.C., already, doing what he was meant to do.

But for now, it just made him angry, seeing people hurt unnecessarily-especially a kind person like Isabel.

She vomited all over the floor. With a mortified cry, she covered her mouth and ran into the bathroom. Jacob watched the door swing shut behind her.

The place was buzzing now. A typical midtown Manhattan coffee shop-short on s.p.a.ce, long on people. But n.o.body was looking at him, or at Isabel. Most people had bent heads, staring at screens. Big screens, small screens, it didn't matter. They walked while staring at screens, the thumb that held the phone swiping away. It was amazing what most people missed in their daily lives.

Jacob didn't miss anything. Life came at him, smacking him square in the face. Emotions were his gut instincts, the way he made his decisions in the world. And what he felt for her was empathy.

The bathroom was tucked in a back corner. A yellow plastic bucket filled with water and a ragged mop was leaning against the wall nearby. Jacob quietly took the mop and cleaned up the floor. He also saw a yellow plastic tent, used by the cleaners, to block off foot traffic over wet floors, so he took that closed sign and un.o.btrusively placed it in front of the ladies' room where Isabel had disappeared.

He stood back and waited. Minutes pa.s.sed. A woman came around the corner to use the facilities. She walked right past his closed sign. She addressed Jacob, still blocking the door, as if he worked there. "Is someone in there?" she asked.

"Sorry," Jacob said. "My girlfriend is sick inside." He gestured to the men's room. "No one is using that one. I'll watch the door for you if you want."

She smiled at him. "Thanks." She went inside.

He crossed his arms and stood sentinel for Isabel. He would stand there all day if he had to.

It was a long time before she came out of that bathroom. From where he stood, she seemed miserable and stunned, not altogether aware of her surroundings. Her eyes were red, as if she'd been crying her heart out, and she had nothing left but limp muscles to carry her home. As she walked past a table, she b.u.mped it.

She'd forgotten her suitcase, so he backtracked to retrieve it. Then he hurried ahead and clasped her by the elbow, steering her safely outside.

Once on the sidewalk, she tripped along, into the stiff wind that was whipping down Fifth Avenue. Her arms were folded over her chest, her too-high heels making her falter.

Jacob felt for her, he really did. Whereas before she'd seemed strong and confident, now she showed her inner fragility. Alex was long gone, back to his carefree life without her, no doubt.

Jacob pressed his hands into fists. Still, he did his job-head swiveling, aware of every person who moved into their zone-front, back, left, right, up on the building roofs, down below the subway grates, a cab that rolled past too slowly.

This woman he guarded was a Sage, a niece of the richest man in Scotland-one of the richest men in the world-so what was she doing, alone in a foreign city like this? Especially given her family history with a kidnapping, had she never considered her vulnerability?

Isabel stopped at the street corner, her bag dropping from her shoulder. Jacob stayed within arm's length of her elbow, one eye on her and one eye on a man who was nosing too close to her. With a shake of his head, Jacob put his hand on his gun and shifted his jacket aside to display it. The man saw the service revolver and took a step sideways, then kept on walking.

Jacob glanced to Isabel, saw the pain on her face. Maybe since n.o.body was watching her, to her mind, she could let her feelings out. He alone saw this.

He sucked in his breath. What the h.e.l.l was happening to him? A crush, on a protectee? For the past half hour, he'd entirely forgotten his true mission.

The most important thing he needed to do was to get Isabel Sage to that Vermont inn. Feeling anything for her-even empathy-wasn't on the agenda.

Time to toughen up. Time to switch up his tactics.

CHAPTER THREE.

ALL ISABEL WANTED was to lie curled up on her bed and sob. She hadn't seen this breakup coming.

Alex and she had always had an understanding between them. Perhaps she didn't express her feelings the way other people did, as he had just accused her of, but Alex had always been like that, too.

Like her. For their entire lives, he'd not only understood her when she'd perhaps put their relationship on the back burner because she'd needed to work on her career goals, but he'd shared these rules of living, too.

Above all, you never want to give away your power. Show the world your strength, never your weakness. If people cannot see your true emotions, then they cannot see how you really feel, and thus they cannot hurt you.

Her dad had taught her that, when she was still a wee girl. And Alex-such a frequent visitor to her house that, to her dad, he was like one of Isabel's brothers-had grown up believing it, as well.

So what had just happened?

She didn't understand. Maybe she never would. All she knew was that Alex's betrayal had hurt.

She wiped her wet eyes with the heel of her hand. She'd cleaned herself up as best she could in that WC-had washed her face and had reapplied all her makeup-but despite her best efforts, the tears kept leaking.

She reached for a tissue in her handbag, sitting in the foot well of the vehicle. Somehow, in the fog of her shock and confusion, Jacob had managed to lead her back across busy city streets to where he'd parked the ridiculously big, black SUV.

Even now, the motor was running. His dark shades once again covered his eyes and his face was expressionless.

Good. That told her he hadn't heard what Alex had just said. Jacob was simply doing his job as her bodyguard, and quite capably minding his own business.

For once, she was grateful he had come.

Determined to behave in as composed a manner as he did, she returned the tissue to her handbag, unused. She would not conduct herself like her cousin Rhiannon. Poor, weak, gentle, delicate Rhiannon. Everybody in their family tiptoed around her. She was the opposite of Isabel.

Her uncle, her mother, her brothers and her cousins, they all expected Isabel to be perfectly capable-cheery, pleasant, put together, in charge, competent. She was reasonable, the one whom people looked to for direction. At the wedding, they would expect her to organize the disparate factions of the family into harmony. It was what she did.

It was what her father had loved and admired so much about her. The main reason he'd praised her and depended upon her the way he had.

Her tears started leaking again. She blinked them away. The pain was just too fresh. Too soon to get over and stuff inside her, the way she always did. She couldn't lie to everyone else about how she truly felt, not just yet.

She turned to Jacob. "Please take me back to my room."

Jacob sat, unmoving. The SUV remained in place.

"Please," Isabel said more forcefully than she'd intended.

Jacob's hand rested on the gearshift beside her. A large hand. Masculine. The opposite of Alex's lawyer hands, manicured and soft. Jacob's skin was rough, the nails bitten low. She sensed that he fought with these hands. He held weapons with these hands.

"Isabel, be reasonable," he said in a low voice. "You need to go to Vermont. You're expected there."

She held herself tighter around her midsection. He was right, but for some reason his words made her angry. The rough corduroy barn coat she'd worn for her adventure to New England was suddenly too much-she felt hot and suffocated. She couldn't fake a good mood or be reasonable right now.

"Take me to my room," she said, her voice rising.

"Isabel..." Jacob's voice turned gentler, the gruffness softened. It didn't match those rough hands.

She wiped a tear that had escaped. "Drive, I said!"

He obeyed. No words or excuses, he just checked the side window and then carefully pulled into the street.

Of course, a traffic light changed to red and they had to wait. A long, painful, silent wait. She stared at her hands clutched in her lap. Her mind was racing, and she couldn't stop it.

What if she did go to the wedding and she couldn't control her emotions? What if she cried or raged in front of everybody? Her uncle? Malcolm? Her cousins? What if they blamed her for him leaving? What if she'd made a mistake in coming forward to ask her uncle to be named CEO after him, instead of her cousin Malcolm, who, until now, had always been thought of as the heir apparent?

Scenarios flashed of her uncle shaking his head at her, while everyone else was happy and paired up, celebrating committed love, except her. Her mind was running ahead, wanting to think through everything all at once, needing to process the best way to salvage this situation. She just didn't see one.

Stay in New York for the weekend and compose herself, or go to Vermont and risk exposing herself? They were both potentially bad decisions for her, each with their downsides and risks. And if Jacob showed pity for her over this predicament she found herself in-that she'd made for herself-then she didn't know what she would do.

She might have to jump out of the SUV and walk back to her room on her own.

JACOB COULD NOT let Isabel go back to her room. No matter how bad he felt about making her attend that wedding, he needed to remain hard and professional. He needed Isabel to stay in the SUV so that he could drive her to Vermont and meet John Sage.

He glanced at her, pale and trembling in the seat beside him. This was killing him. She was upset, and she'd proven herself to be a woman who didn't normally get upset. She was mortified about losing her composure in front of him. He didn't like it, either. But in two minutes, they would be in front of her residence hall, and if he didn't do something fast, she would be out the door and gone before he had the chance to help himself.

He looked at her, one hand on the door. She was getting ready to bolt. He needed to convince her to stay. But he wasn't used to talking with those he protected. He was trained for the opposite, in fact.

He'd gently put her in the front seat with him rather than the rear seat, and that was bad enough.

His hand tightened on the wheel. He felt for her, he really did. He'd been in her shoes once. But he wasn't going to breathe a word of that.

At the next light, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Now what? What could make her want to go to that wedding? If he could just get her to trust him to take her there. To trust that the best thing for her would be to stand tall. Screw the boyfriend.

"You're better off," he said abruptly.

She looked startled. "What?"

d.a.m.n. He hadn't meant to say that aloud. "Nothing."

"You listened to us back there?"

d.a.m.n again. Jacob scrubbed his hand over his head. "I had to be sure you were safe."

She looked even more upset with that explanation, so he changed course, even taking off his sungla.s.ses in hopes of making the situation better. "I'll never say a word to anyone about what you say or do in my presence. Not even to the people who hired me."