Chapter Twenty-Two

The first fat drops of rain struck them as they climbed back out from the floor of the castle. Clouds blotted out the sun again, and frigid wind buffeted them outside the protective shelter of the stone walls.

“Race you back to the car?” James asked.

Andrea didn’t think he meant it literally, but the skies apparently did, because they chose that moment to shed their full burden, loosing drops so large they stung when they struck her skin. She grinned at him and took off at a sprint up the marshy hillside.

Andrea dared a glance back and saw him following a few paces behind, laughing as he ran. She beat him to the car, but by the time he fumbled his keys from the pocket of his jeans, she was shivering and soaking wet. He quickly unlocked the doors, and they dove for the shelter of the wagon as if of one mind.

The doors slammed with a hollow thud. Rain drummed dully on the roof and splattered the windshield. Andrea shivered violently as water dripped from her sodden hair down her face.

James started the engine and flipped on the heater. “I’m so sorry.”

Laughter bubbled up inside her. “Did you actually just apologize for the weather?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I suppose I did. Cold and miserable, remember?”

“And horrible food,” she added. “I think we can agree that one isn’t true.”

“Good. I would hate to spoil your newfound fondness for my country. Wait here.” He jumped out of the car into the downpour and popped the hatch in the back. By the time he got back into the driver’s seat, he was even wetter than before.

“This should warm you up.” He pulled the picnic blanket out from under his coat and draped it around her shoulders, then pushed her wet hair back from her face. His touch stirred a riot of sensations in her middle. He started to pull away, but she curled her fingers around his hand and held it against her cheek.

“I’m beginning to think you are a good man, James MacDonald.”

He froze, his fingers twining with hers, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’ve been thinking I should learn a few words of Gaelic while I’m here. What is it you said? ‘An toir thu dhomh pòg’?”

“Do you have any idea what that means?”

“Serena told me.”

“And what did she tell you?” He seemed to be struggling against a smile.

Andrea leaned across the console and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. “Will you kiss me?”

“Close. More properly, it means, ‘Will you give me a kiss?’”

She laughed, and it came out far shakier than she expected. “James, stop talking and just kiss me.”

He smiled and brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek, then lowered his mouth to hers. The first touch sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold, and she sighed against his mouth. His fingers tightened on her shoulder, but his lips remained gentle, softly exploring, tasting. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she knew he was holding himself back.

His patience was torture. She gripped his jacket and pulled him closer. The urgency of his response stole her breath and made her head swim. He buried his hands in her hair, and Andrea surrendered to the moment, reveling in the taste of him, the restrained strength in his touch. When his lips traveled across her jaw and down to her throat, a whimper slipped from her mouth.

The sound must have brought him back to his senses, because he froze and lifted his head a fraction of an inch, his breath coming in bursts.

“You’re killing me, Andrea,” he whispered. He pressed another lingering kiss to her lips, then released her completely and fell back against his seat.

Her cheeks instantly heated. She had gotten wrapped up in the moment, driven by the need for closeness, connection. He probably thought . . . Well, she didn’t want to know what he thought. “I didn’t mean to . . . I’m sorry.”

“I’m not sorry at all.” He raised her hand to his lips so her fingers curved against his cheek and kissed her palm. The mere press of his lips in such an unexpected place sent a thrill of electricity through her body. From the little smile he gave her, he knew it too.

“We should go back to the hotel,” he said. “You’re soaked.”

She looked down at her jacket, the light-gray fabric now charcoal from the rain. “What’s the hurry? We can’t get any wetter, can we?”

“You only say that because it’s positively steamy in here now.” His mouth curved into the wicked smile that had gotten her into this situation in the first place. “Let’s go change into dry clothes, and I’ll make you a cup of chocolate.”

“All right. You sold me with the chocolate.”

James eased the car from the turnout, driving slowly in the steadily falling rain. The windshield wipers thudded against the windshield with every sweep, giving her something to focus on besides the man next to her. To say she hadn’t wished for that moment since she met him would be a bald-faced lie. She simply hadn’t been willing to succumb to temptation when she thought she was just another conquest to him.

The rain dwindled to a spatter as they curved around the other side of the peninsula. James pointed out the Old Man of Storr, a particularly spectacular volcanic rock pinnacle, but they didn’t linger long. Despite her earlier words, she was chilled to the bone, the cold even more biting in contrast to the flush of heat she felt any time he touched her. She spent the drive back alternately shivering and trying to calm her racing pulse.

He opened her door and took her hand to help her out. “Go take a hot bath and change into some dry clothes. Then we’ll go up to the house, and I’ll make you the best cup of chocolate you’ve ever had.”

“Up to the house?” she asked with a lift of her eyebrows. “What’s wrong, James? Don’t trust yourself alone with me?”

“Not remotely.” He tugged her closer for another kiss, lingering long enough to weaken her knees and convince her of the wisdom of his decision.

“I see your point.” She dragged herself away from him and dug for her keys in her purse. “I won’t be too long.”

“Take your time.”

Andrea let herself into her cottage after two tries with the lock and shut the door firmly behind her. She leaned against it for support, cooling her cheeks with her chilled hands. If she could form a coherent thought, she would list all the reasons why this had been a terrible idea. Instead a stupid smile spread across her lips. She might be out of practice with this sort of thing, but as kisses went, those belonged in the record books. She just wished they hadn’t been over so quickly.

She dropped her purse onto the bed and headed straight to the bathroom, where she filled the tub for the second time that day. She hung her wet jacket and scarf on the hooks behind the door and perched on the edge of the tub to remove her shoes.

Did she dare believe she was more than just a temporary distraction to him? She believed him when he said his reputation was no longer deserved, and his actions today told her he was keeping a firm hold on his self-control. Which was good, considering her own felt awfully shaky.

That didn’t bother her half as much as the realization that what she felt now went far beyond the physical.

She buried her face in her hands. How could she have let this happen? The issue of work concerns aside, they lived thousands of miles away from one another. His life was here in Britain, hers in America. A long-distance relationship could never work, even considering she flew to or through London every month.

Not that he had said anything about a relationship at all.

“Stop it.” Her voice echoed in the tiled room. She had two choices: end this right now, or enjoy the last bit of time they had together, regardless of the consequences to her heart. The smarter option was obvious. It just didn’t have a chance.