Under The Kilt: Kilted For Pleasure Part 16

When she finished, Victoria handed him the plate. "I thought you hated mornings."

"Oh, I despise them. If it were possible to p.i.s.s on them, I'd drink three pots of coffee and then chase it with a gallon of water."

Her lips didn't even twitch in a laugh. "Sounds about right." She sighed, but there was no give in her gaze. "Two words."

"What?"

"There are two words in the English language that you have yet to use. So you can stand out here every morning until I leave and I still won't even consider forgiving you until you say them." She turned back toward her cottage but threw over her shoulder. "Thank you for breakfast."

"Burke," he said, gripping their plates in his hands. He waited until she faced him so he wouldn't say this to her back. He wanted to make sure when Victoria looked him in the eye she would know Callan meant it. "I'm sorry."

The hardness in her expression didn't lessen. "I'd hoped it would take you another week to figure that one out."

Victoria nodded and turned back toward her cottage. His heart sank right into his stomach. Why hadn't he appreciated what had been given to him freely? Grief had frozen him in time and then the fear of ever experiencing it again had done the same. He had no defense, because Victoria had finally proved him wrong. He was daft enough to want to love again. He wanted to risk it all. No. A broken heart didn't compare to losing a spouse, but that didn't mean it felt like tickles and rainbows. And he was capable and willing to experience it again for her.

He let his gaze follow her until he couldn't see her anymore and then went into his workshop to finish out today's job.

The next morning she stopped at the spread on the plaid blanket and then just shook her head. "You can't even grovel right." She sounded irritated. "You're supposed to look and act depressed and miserable. At some point I believe you are truly sorry for being a d.i.c.khead and all is forgiven."

She placed her hands on her hips. Her tights elongated her legs. The jumper hugged her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s. And for him, she'd never stop looking gorgeous even when she glared at him.

He frowned at her words. "What am I doing wrong?"

"You're cooking. You're not supposed to have an appet.i.te. You're not supposed to even have the right mind to plan out morning breakfast. You're clean shaven, matching and your hair always looks tousled so that's not anything new." She swallowed. "And it doesn't change the fact this is still about your ego. You just don't want me to leave Scotland angry with you."

Her words weighed on him. He'd broken her trust and that was the hardest thing to rebuild. "I should have told you what I'd planned to say to Ian and Tristan. I should have told you that I needed you to stay there with me, all night. To just be there. I didn't." His throat felt thick as the words spilled out. "I can't undo how I treated you as second best."

She sucked in a shuddering breath. "And this?"

"Starting over, if you'll let me." He touched her plate. His hands trembled. "There's nothing like a good Scottish breakfast after a run. I've made the same as the day before and added tomatoes, bacon and mushrooms. We also have toast with jam. Sorry about that." He winced. "I want to show remorse for my actions but not even I can stoop to American jelly. I'm not that good of a man."

For the first time since he'd started this, she laughed. "You suck at this."

That sound washed over him and he wanted to revel in it. "I know, but I'm trying. Will you have breakfast with me?"

She bit down on her lip to curtail the smile. "I am hungry."

Since that wasn't a yes, he offered the cup of orange juice. She sighed and settled in on the plaid cover without taking it. "I'm leaving, Callan."

He handed her a plate and she took that. "And until you go," he said, "I want to have breakfast with you every morning if you let me."

The hardness in her gaze softened. "You don't even like being awake this early."

"It's the only time of day I can see you. I miss you, la.s.s."

She focused on her plate at his words and began to eat. A minute later she murmured, "Why now?"

He had expected questions and answered as honestly as he could. "Dougla.s.s put his foot up my a.r.s.e and pointed out some things that were likely obvious."

Interest showed in the way her ears perked up. "Like?"

He held her gaze. "I adore you."

She put her plate down, shaking her head. "Why?"

"When you're not being cheeky, you're just as ornery as I am."

"I'm always cheeky."

"You don't tell me I'm perfect."

With every answer anger built in her eyes again. She stabbed at her sausage. "I don't lie well anyway."

"You're kind and it's what I needed and I didn't even know it." He finally picked up his own plate. "And I'm not asking you to forgive me. To be honest, I'm being selfish again. I just want to spend this last week with you until you leave. I don't want to forget how this feels. How it feels to be around you."

She stilled for a moment. "And your wife?"

And that was the complication. He sighed and looked at Scotland in the morning light. "There is always going to be a part of me that loves her, misses her. Will I still have moments where I wonder if our children would have had her freckles? Yes. I can not erase her from my past no more than you can forget the ex that betrayed you."

She blinked. There was a sheen to her eyes but her dimple winked. "Give me a second. I'm trying to imagine you with children. You, Mr. Grumpy."

And that made him think about her with his children. His heart warmed and he smiled. Children with Victoria? He laughed, liking the idea. "Their first word would be s.h.i.te. Not that hard to envision."

Though there was a darkness in her gaze, she kept smiling until it slowly faded. "I can't do this with you. Not anymore. If I believe you truly are sorry, that you're going to miss me-Ian hasn't said anything."

And there was the fear. He'd hurt her. Proved her right. He scooped up his eggs, his hand tight on the fork. "Eat with me, la.s.s. That's all I want right now."

"Liar," she said, sounding frustrated.

He snorted at the truth and then ate his breakfast. Soon she joined him. Maybe ten minutes later she glanced at him. Tears were br.i.m.m.i.n.g in her eyes. That almost killed him.

"I can't, Callan. I just can't."

He didn't reply right away because he wasn't sure if she meant she couldn't love him anymore or that after what he'd done she could never truly trust him. Did it really matter? What did matter was the time they had left. "Aye, I understand."

f.u.c.k if he didn't want to. It would hurt less if her reasoning was irrational. Then he could get mad and have that to warm him. Instead he took her empty plate and stacked it on top of his. "Any request for tomorrow's breakfast?"

She breathed heavily and then shook her head again. "d.a.m.n you," she muttered and then leaned forward to kiss him.

That made the ache worse because how could he not have seen, understood, this was the woman he shouldn't have let go. Cute as a pixie and with a mouth that made him crave things he couldn't put into words. This woman. He bundled her in his arms and kissed her like it was the last time he'd get the chance.

She nipped his bottom lip and then pulled away. "Pancakes and hash browns for tomorrow's breakfast. Look them up on Google if you don't have a clue what I just said."

He didn't loosen his hold. "Aye."

She placed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth and untangled their limbs. As he watched her fading silhouette, Callan couldn't help but think it had been a goodbye kiss.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

Leaning against the castle's bathroom door was a reprieve. Something Victoria hadn't experienced since Callan had begun his epic apology. Every morning she hoped he wouldn't wait out on the moors for her and despaired he'd see the pointlessness and give up. Every single morning she'd wondered who was this man who wore his heart on his sleeve.

Her Callan would have growled forgive me or tried to seduce her until the need to punch him in the throat evaporated, but just that morning he'd laid out a plaid blanket to eat pancakes and hash browns with her.

What was she supposed to do with that? How could she get a moment's rest when that domestic scene kept looping in her mind? The stress of it all and the past three weeks had finally hit her and made her stomach weak and queasy.

She dropped her hand from her mouth and met a too-observant, blue-eyed gaze. The wood cooled her heated skin and acted as a prop since her knees had gone unsteady. Tristan lounged on the wall, his arms crossed and all his intensity focused on her.

Ian intimidated her. No matter what he said or whatever question he asked, even an affable exchange, her tongue seemed to trip over itself. But Tristan scared the c.r.a.p out of her. She often had the impression he could read her like a book. That usually left her a little uncomfortable on the best of days. Today, it made her stomach lock up, and she almost turned to go back into the bathroom to throw up again.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

She waved her hand in a so-so manner. "Something I ate didn't agree with me."

His brow raised. "You can work from home if you need it."

Her stomach did a nice little roll and she had to swallow slowly. "Just might. How are things with the Baird?"

His laugh at the name reminded her of Callan's reaction. G.o.d. She couldn't escape him.

"He's doing fine." His gaze narrowed slightly. "I was wondering how you two met. Everything was crazy for a while. I was just happy to see someone was there with him until we could make it. But...I've become curious."

s.h.i.t. And this was why no matter how gentle or open Callan had been, she couldn't bring herself to forgive him. Three words were all he had to say. "You should leave" or even "I need you." He could have given her the choice to bomb her own career or not, but her needs and what was important to her had always come second to his desires. Naturally it was of no consequence if she fell for him. What exactly did she have to lose?

But G.o.d forbid if he had two seconds of experiencing an emotion for her. The world would end, and that just wouldn't do. How could she trust that wouldn't happen again? And once again she'd have to crawl her way out of the ashes.

The whole thing at the hospital was the universe's way of reminding her to keep her head down and continue on her path. She needed to be smarter, more cagey with her heart until her life was settled. And for goodness sakes, never, ever date someone in her field again. Callan would be her secret heartbreak and she'd eventually move on. The important part was no one ever knowing.

Victoria sighed and decided she'd dance around the question. "I had errands to run in Glasgow. Callan offered to take me since he had to see Dougla.s.s anyway. And then I adored your father after meeting him." She laughed. "He's a cad though."

"Huh," was all he said for a very, very long moment.

Tristan had worked with her for the last three days and often she'd catch him watching her with a curious expression as though he was putting together puzzle pieces. Somehow he knew she was lying. Dammit. She glanced down the corridor and couldn't see a means of escaping without making the lie that more obvious. She fixed a smile on her face. "I should go back to work."

Tristan shook his head. "Ian can't see what's right there in his face. He never quite caught onto subtleties." Those words hung heavy in the room before he added, "Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

Her heart skipped a beat, but she refused to rat herself out. "Well, I was never a fan about beating around the bush. Give it to me straight."

"First you need to know I was there when my cousin told Ian to shove this job up his a.r.s.e. It was quite funny and frustrating. We knew he needed the money and he's d.a.m.n good. He was local. We take care of family as best we can, but we knew he wouldn't care." Tristan shrugged. "Then I met you and made a suggestion to Ian."

She pushed off the door, feeling steady again. "You?"

"I've seen you handle some of our most reluctant clients. You play sweet, cunning, whatever you have to, to get a job done."

"Sending me wasn't even Ian's idea." She wasn't sure if that made the situation better or worse. She'd worked from the belief that her boss trusted her, had picked her because he thought her the best person for the job.

"He wouldn't have sent you if he didn't agree. You came through within twenty-four hours. You did the impossible. You could do no wrong, but he's a fussy perfectionist and s.h.i.te with words."

Her mind reeled as she tried to follow where this led and had no clue. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because there's one thing Ian will fight for and it's family. Over the last few days I've noticed you just might be family."

He knew. "What?" the word whooshed out.

"You're a bonny la.s.s. You've been near a Baird for close to three months." His brows rose as though the answer was obvious. "You're sick every morning. It's not that hard to put two and two together."

Her panic died out because he was shooting in the dark. She started to chuckle when he said, "How far along are you?"

She blinked at the blunt question and answered on instinct. "I'm on the pill."

"Gotcha," he muttered.

She froze. The correct answer to avoid any confirmation of an affair was she never had s.e.x with Callan. No s.e.x. No pregnancy. That was a firm denial, which left no ambiguity. He'd by-pa.s.sed her ready-to-go lie. She got played right into the truth.

"You sneaky b.a.s.t.a.r.d," she said with both respect and fear clouding her voice.

He let out a big belly laugh. "You're a tough nut to crack. No other way to get you to confess to an affair. I caught you in a lie and still you were ready to bl.u.s.ter."

Her brows crinkled as she frowned. "A lie?"

"Callan told us you wanted to play tourist so he took you to the pub and that's how you met Da. He even said you saved Da's life."

Her heart sped up and her hands started to tremble. Callan had lied to his cousins. "When did he say that?"

"At the hospital," Tristan spoke slowly.

"Before or after I left?"

This time Tristan looked confused. "Before."

"Oh," her voice came out shaky.

I'd break your heart before I'd ask to give your everything to me.

She'd never asked him exactly what he'd said to his cousins. It hadn't mattered. He'd let her wake up to a cl.u.s.terf.u.c.k. He had needed her to be with him while he sat at his uncle's side and had still refused to admit it. Yet, Callan hadn't thrown her to the wolves to fend on her own.

She'd woken up shocked, but the scene hadn't played out as she imagined. The why and how hadn't mattered in that moment when the betrayal had done more than sting her pride and heart, but Callan hadn't told them about the blackmail, the s.e.x. He'd given them an innocent reason, one that never needed to be questioned. One that ensured Ian wouldn't fire her.

Yes, he'd done it to push her away, but he'd also done it to protect her. A fine line when she looked at all his actions, but they'd been doing a balancing act on that line since their first meeting.

All her anger at him had been spent. Now she could see if the choice had been left up to her, she'd have cut off all ties between Callan and Dougla.s.s. Her choice would have hurt all parties involved. It would have sent the same message just in reverse-her wants and needs mattered more than anyone or anything else. Except her lie wouldn't help Callan or Dougla.s.s. She would have acted like they had never been a part of her life in a meaningful way. All to keep her job. How was that any less selfish?