Some Like it Scottish, page 19
“Nothing.” She forced a smile to her face. “Why do you ask?”
“Ye look like ye’re lost.”
In a way, she was.
He stepped up on the dock and she followed, wondering what this was all about. If he was forcing her onto another vessel, he’d better have her life vest ready.
He stopped in front of a boat and took her hand. “Here she is.”
“Who?” She didn’t recognize the boat, which definitely hadn’t been there before. It was an older pleasure boat, large enough to hold a dozen people.
He pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “I was angry at you, lass. A man just doesn’t take money from a woman. But I realized I could do an honest job of earning it. The amount you paid me was the last I needed to buy the boat for my guided fishing business.”
For a second, she reveled at being in his arms once again. But she’d made her decision. She couldn’t get her heart involved with this man. She patted his back platonically and then pushed him away.
“Good for you,” she said.
He gave her a deep frown, not looking very Ramsay-like at all. He looked more like the pissed-off warrior she’d glimpsed yesterday when he’d abused her lips so thoroughly.
“And good for me,” she added. “Now my bachelors will be occupied.”
“It’s always business with you,” he said accusingly.
“Yes. It is.” She stood tall as if he was challenging her. “It’s who I am. But I’m still very happy for you.”
He studied her for a moment. He seemed resigned as he climbed onto the boat. “Will you come aboard so I can show you around?” He put his hand out to her.
“Do you have any protection for me?”
He gave her a wicked grin and reached for his wallet, pulling out a small packet. It took a second for her brain to catch up with what her mouth had said.
“No! Not that. A life jacket. To keep me safe.” She couldn’t stop the heat from radiating in her cheeks.
“It’s yere loss, kitten.” He shoved the condom back in and returned his wallet to his pocket. “It could’ve been fun.”
“I can’t afford fun,” Kit muttered. She stuck her hand out. “Life jacket?”
“We’re not going anywhere. Ye’ll be perfectly safe here at the dock,” he assured her.
“Most sinkings happen at the dock.” She’d read that.
“But we could just step off if she takes on water,” he said.
“Humor me.”
He reached under the seat, pulled out a life vest, and handed it over. “Better?”
“Better.” She donned it.
He took her hand and helped her aboard, but seemed to lose his balance on purpose just so he could pull her to him again. He gazed into her eyes with his arms still around her. “You need my help, kitten.”
Being this close kept her off-balance. “Oh?” She was a little mesmerized with the depths in his eyes. She saw wisdom there and it intrigued her.
“Aye. I need to teach ye to have a little fun.” His voice was rough with emotion.
With one arm still clamped around her waist, he reached up and smoothed back her hair. The boat rocked her repeatedly against him. And because the life vest was bulky, her chest was pushed back while her hips pressed into him intimately. Images of the two of them together, what it might be like, washed over her, as the currents under the boat brought them together in an age-old rhythm.
As he leaned down to kiss her, Kit felt right with the world. To hell with the lecture she’d given herself only moments ago. Maybe her convictions were wrong and the man was right. Maybe she should learn to have a little fun.
She leaned up, closed the distance between their lips, and captured his mouth.
“Gawd,” Ramsay growled into their kiss. He clutched at her, trying to get closer, but the vest was in the way.
She enjoyed his frustration as she Frenched the hell out of him.
But he stopped kissing her and started undoing the zipper of her life jacket. Just then a wave broke over the edge and splashed her feet. And it all came flooding back, raw panic coming over her. Someplace in the back of her mind, she knew it was unreasonable. They were, after all, tied to the dock. But she slapped his hands anyway, as if she was flailing helplessly in the water, drowning. Like her father.
Ramsay grabbed her hands and crushed her to him, shushing her, whispering guttural foreign words, calming words, soothing her.
That’s when she realized she was sobbing, clutching him as she buried her face in his chest.
“Mo chridhe. My heart.” He rubbed her back, not letting her go.
Slowly she relaxed, letting the safety of Ramsay’s embrace steady her.
But it took a while to get herself completely under control. Which was so strange. She was, after all, the one in her family who never lost it. She never cried. Not even at her father’s funeral. There hadn’t been room for it. She had had to take charge, take care of her family—there had been no time to grieve. But here she was, years later, crying for the father who’d let her down.
Ramsay stooped to look at her face while tucking her hair behind her ears. “There. Better?”
She stared at his chest. “You probably should change your shirt. Sorry.”
“Och. It’s of no matter. How about we get you off this boat?”
She squeezed his biceps. “No. I’d like to take a look around. Really.” It was one thing to be in a dinghy on the open water. It was quite another to be on a larger boat, tied to the dock. Her fear would not control her.
Ramsay kissed her forehead and took her hand, holding it between them. “If you suddenly need off the boat, I’ll understand.”
“I think I’m fine now.” She stared at her drying tears on his chest. He’s a good man. She wondered what would have happened if she’d cried all over one of her Wall Street dates. They probably would’ve asked her to pay for dry cleaning.
Ramsay proudly gave her the tour, pointing out his favorite features and talking about how things would run. His excitement was palpable and she knew how he felt. To finally achieve your dream after visualizing it and working toward it for years—it was a magical experience, almost as if it was ordained, everything coming together to a singular point. In a way, they really weren’t that different.
Time slipped away and the sun started to set.
“I can’t believe I stayed away so long. I have to get back to Quilting Central. Or the dorm by now. What will my clients think?”
He laid steadying hands on her shoulders. “Let me make a call.” He pulled his cell from his jeans pocket. Five seconds later, he was speaking. “Cait? Ramsay here.” He was silent for a second. “That’s why I’m calling. Okay. I’ll put her on speaker.”
“Kit?” Cait said through his cell. “Don’t worry about a thing. Harper got everyone settled in. Right now Deydie and Bethia are telling your ladies stories. You’re not needed here tonight.”
“I’m not?” Kit said.
“Just be at Quilting Central at nine a.m. We’ll get going about then.”
“But I had planned to stay at the dorm with them,” Kit said.
Ramsay shook his head no.
“Maggie says you’re needed at her cottage. Something about a male rebellion if you’re not there to cook breakfast.” Cait laughed. “What have you been feeding them?”
“Nothing special.”
“Well, I think ye’re needed more there than you are here,” Cait said. “See you in the morning.”
Ramsay hung up the phone with a grin on his face. “There.” He spun Kit around so she was facing the ocean. “Now watch yere sunset and let the worries of the day go.” He pulled her into him so that her back rested against his strong chest, all her tension washing away.
Her emotions had been all over the place today, but right now, she felt anchored. That was a feeling she hadn’t had in a long, long time.
After the sun went down, they headed slowly back to the cottage, where only a small light in the kitchen remained on. Everyone seemed to have gone to bed. The centerpieces had been moved into boxes near the door.
“You better go get on my T-shirt and head off to bed,” Ramsay said with mirth in his eyes. “Ye have to be up early to make me some breakfast.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “If you boss me around too much, John and Ross will be the only ones who get any of my cooking.” She sashayed from the room.
“Good night, kitten,” he said.
She went into his room and closed the door. She pulled his T-shirt from the hook and held it to her chest. It felt so good just knowing that he was back in the house. She took her time stripping out of her clothes and putting on his shirt. She heard him in the shower across the hall. When he left the bathroom, she grabbed his robe and stepped across the hall to use the facilities and brush her teeth. When she was done, all the lights were off in the living room. She peeked down the hallway, but she didn’t see signs of life.
She trudged off to bed. His bed. Alone. But once she lay down, sleep wouldn’t come. She rolled on her side and wondered if Ramsay was asleep.
She stole out of bed, quietly opened the bedroom door, and padded down the hallway. Once in the living room, she tiptoed over to the couch. She stood over him, looking at him by the moonlight. He was bare chested, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms.
She didn’t expect his hand to reach out and yank her down. But when it did, she fell on top of him with an oomph.
“Shh.” He settled her on his chest. “I’m tired and I’m trying to sleep.”
She nuzzled into him, inhaling the smell of soap, shampoo, and Ramsay. She wasn’t oblivious to the erection that her knee touched. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“Aye. But ignore it and go to sleep.”
She snuggled in deeper and accidentally brushed up against him once more.
“Aw, gawd,” he growled. “Sprite, either lie still or we’re going to my room. And not for shut-eye either.”
A threat or a promise. She sizzled low in her abdomen and was more than a little tempted to rub herself up against him again. No one had ever made her feel this way before. “But what if I want to make out just a little?”
He sighed as if being tortured. “There would be no little about it.”
“Not even one little, eensy-teensy kiss?” Oh, she was bad, very bad. They were on the couch where anyone could walk in and see them. If she thought the lynching at Quilting Central had been unpleasant, she’d probably be strung up by her toes if caught seducing Ramsay under Maggie’s roof.
“Okay.” He sighed heavily like he had no choice. “One kiss.”
She smiled into his chest, feeling victorious. For once she’d been successful with her womanly wiles—and with a 100 percent Scottish warrior.
But in the next second, she found she was wrong.
He kissed her all right. Fiercely even. But it was on the forehead. “There. Now sleep.” He planted his hand on her knee, holding it in place. Apparently, he was taking a stand against whatever other wiles she had in mind to use against him tonight.
Chapter Thirteen
Kit woke up at her normal time to make breakfast. She didn’t immediately move from the cocoon of Ramsay’s arms. It felt too nice. Too wonderful. But she also didn’t want to get caught by the family while she was snuggled up with her chauffeur . . . wearing nothing but her undies and his T-shirt.
She tried to wiggle out of his arms without waking him, but he gave her a gentle squeeze in protest.
“Breakfast,” she whispered. “I’m earning my keep, remember?”
“One more minute.” He ran his hand down her back, cupping her bottom for a brief second before tracing one finger under the elastic of her panties.
She shivered. Oh, yes, her human mattress had moves. And if Ross’s and John’s doors weren’t about to pop open, she would’ve tempted her mattress with a little grinding to see if he would show her more.
Ramsay’s hand moved back up and rested on her bottom for a moment. Then he gave her a pat and a squeeze. “Up, sprite. I’ve had enough.” He chuckled. “Unless you want to skip breakfast and go straight for dessert.”
She stretched out and slid across him, copping a feel as she stood.
He groaned in agony. “Ye’re a mean little thing.” He yanked her hand, pulling her down for a smoldering kiss. “Now, away with ye.” He swatted her bottom as she retreated.
She ran off to his room, once again realizing he was too much man for her. With him, she didn’t feel like she was in control of herself at all. He had her feeling womanly—all soft and feminine—not the tough-as-nails businesswoman she normally had to be. She knew enough about this world and its hard knocks, that if you were soft and feminine, you were bound to get rolled over and trampled on.
She threw on a running suit and a bra before hurrying back into the kitchen. This morning she was making a skillet breakfast of hash browns, cheese, bacon, and eggs. After the guys ate, she could put the covered cast-iron pan into the oven for when Maggie and Dand woke up.
She focused on cooking the bacon in the skillet and grating the potatoes while her distraction dressed and readied for the day in the other room. When Ramsay made an appearance, he was outfitted in jeans and an old T-shirt, looking very rugged and handsome. But wasn’t he always rugged and handsome?
He took the empty coffee press and filled it with boiling water. As she walked by, he grabbed her around the waist with his free hand and hugged her to him.
It wasn’t a wimpy hug. It was possessive, primal, and exhilarating.
He let her go. “I never figured you for one who knew her way around the kitchen.”
She tried to ignore the chain reaction he’d started in her body with that hug. She finally pulled herself together to answer. “Just some basics. I’m no gourmet chef.” She threw the shredded potatoes into the pan and they sizzled. “What did John and Ross think of your big purchase?”
“What big purchase?” John said, making Kit jump and drop the spatula.
How long had he been standing there?
Ramsay frowned at her as if she couldn’t be trusted with state secrets. “I hadn’t gotten around to telling them. I was busy with another matter.” He cocked his head, still gazing at her.
The way John scowled at Ramsay made Kit want to race off to her room—Ramsay’s room—but she had to stay until the food was done. She flipped the bacon, maneuvering away from the popping grease. If only she could escape the impending argument as readily.
John took an imposing step toward Ramsay. “What are you blowing yere cash on?”
Ramsay straightened, not backing down, more serious than Kit had ever seen him. “I explained about the guided fishing business.”
“Aye. I remember you asking for money.” John’s hard stare and almost imperceptible nod delivered the blow.
If he’d aimed that stare at Kit, she would’ve doubled over. As it was, she desperately wanted to slink away.
But Ramsay remained tall. His face, however, darkened with an angry red, his eyes turning to black steel, and he heaved the next statement at John like a tidal wave. “I don’t owe you an explanation, but I’ll give ye one anyway, brother.”
Kit hoped to never be on the receiving end of this pissed-off Ramsay.
“Those days at the farm gave me the last I needed to buy ole man Martin’s boat.”
She noticed he said nothing about the check she’d given him to occupy the bachelors. But she couldn’t blame him for the omission. She was in the midst of two unyielding, old-fashioned warriors.
John arched his eyebrows with the unasked, obvious question.
Ramsay exhaled so bitterly that she was surprised flames didn’t burst from him. “I haven’t done anything illegal to get the money, if that’s what that look is all about. I’ve been stashing money away my entire life. Never turned down a job offered to me.” He exhaled again, but this time, he seemed a little defeated. “I’ve always wanted a business of my own.”
Kit flipped the hash browns and kept her head down when she went for the cheddar in the refrigerator.
“I see.” John sounded like Ramsay had abandoned him, the family, and their business.
She felt bad for Ramsay. Was it really so terrible that he wanted something of his own? But then again, maybe he was leaving the other two brothers high and dry to run the fishing boat alone.
Ross wandered into the kitchen and grabbed a mug. “What’s the argument about this time?”
“It’s just you and me pulling the nets today.” John moved the lunch cooler from the floor to the counter with a bang. “Ramsay has more important things to do.” That was the first time that she’d heard John call him something other than Swab.
Ross turned to his younger brother for an explanation.
“I’ll be working on my own boat today—maintenance,” Ramsay supplied.
Ross turned to Kit. “Where did he get his own boat?” He must’ve thought she’d be the safer one to ask.
“Do I really have to get in the middle of this?”
Ross said, “Yes,” while Ramsay said, “No.”
She shrugged. What the heck. She’d taken over the Armstrongs’ kitchen; why not mediate their family feud, too? “Ramsay used the money he’s been saving his whole life to start a fishing tour business by buying a boat. John feels betrayed that he’d leave the family business. We’re not sure yet how you feel about it.” She glanced at each one of the three brothers. “Did I cover everything?”
John harrumphed and busied himself with getting out the ice packs.
Ramsay put his head down to hide a slight grin while he shook his head. “I probably should’ve warned ye; the sprite doesn’t mince words.”
Ross grinned at her. “I see that.” He turned to Ramsay and pounded him on the back. “I wish ye well with yere new business. And I’m sure John does, too.”
