CHAPTER NINE

SERENA STOOD ON THE FRONT STEPS of the address Malcolm had texted her, shivering even though she was wearing her quilted jacket and shearling-lined boots. Mid-April on Skye should not have been this cold, but there had been one storm after another, this one bringing a socked-in fog and a freezing drizzle that stuck like ice chips to her coat and hair.

As minutes passed, she wondered if she had somehow gotten the address or the time wrong. She pulled her mobile from her pocket, ready to call Malcolm, when the outline of a figure appeared in the fog at the end of the long, muddy drive. Details resolved as he trudged toward her, wearing a thick sweater and mud-splattered wellies, a black knit cap pulled down over his ears and forehead. She cursed herself silently at the sudden jig happening in her insides. Rugged had never described her taste in men, but it worked for him. A little too well.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Malcolm handed her an insulated mug. “Does bringing coffee make up for it?”

“I might be able to overlook it. Busy morning?” She was pleased by how level and dispassionate her voice came out.

“A bit of an incident involving Kylee’s dog, muddy paws, and every piece of upholstery in the house,” he said with a crooked grin. “The pup’s lucky he’s cute.”

Serena reluctantly returned the smile. “Em’s been begging me for one, but I can’t be responsible for keeping one more creature alive right now.”

“I understand that.” Malcolm dug his key ring from his pocket and brushed past her to fit the key into the door. “The house has been shut up for a bit, so it’ll be cold. But the rads worked in the autumn.”

Serena moved past him into the foyer that led directly to a lounge. The outside had been a traditional croft house style, a scaled-down version of the hotel with a whitewashed stone exterior and newer mullioned windows. The inside surprised her with its bright and modern cast. The original wide-plank floors covered the entire interior, and the walls were painted a clean and bright cream. Comfy slipcovered furniture stood opposite a small flat-screen television.

“No dining room, but there’s an eat-in kitchen.” Malcolm delivered the words with the practiced composure of an estate agent, so incongruous with his appearance this morning that she smiled. She followed him down the hallway into a somewhat dated but functional kitchen, complete with a washer/dryer unit beneath the countertop.

Her smile widened when she saw the vintage enameled AGA range. “It’s charming.”

Malcolm seemed surprised by her response. “Have a look at the bedrooms then. There are two downstairs, which I imagine you’d want for the children, and one double upstairs.”

The two bedrooms on the main floor were small but equally appealing, with antique single beds, freshly laundered linens folded at the foot of each. Just down the hall was a minuscule bath with a tankless water heater built into the stand-up shower cubicle. A steep flight of stairs off the center hall led to a tiny wood-paneled loft beneath the eaves, barely wide enough for a double bed. Malcolm pressed himself back against the wall so she could pass, but it wasn’t far enough to ignore the waft of that outdoorsy cologne or his solid presence as she brushed by him.

She stopped in front of the window, drawing in a breath. “The view is incredible!”

He moved in behind her to take a look, and once more every nerve in her body snapped to attention. She needed to move before she gave away her reaction, but there was barely enough room for one person to maneuver, let alone two.

“I have that same view from my bedroom,” he said. “At least here they’ve raised the bed frame so you can see outside while lying down. You’d have an amazing view of the stars, if it would stop storming.”

Something about the intimacy of the observation made heat crawl up her neck and spread across her chest. Her coat suddenly felt uncomfortably stuffy, despite the house’s cold interior. She cleared her throat. “The radiators and the boiler work?”

“They did when I winterized the place, but I can turn them on for you if you want.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said. “I’m sure I can manage on my own.”

Malcolm looked down at her, a thoughtful look on his face that was far more unsettling than his usual arrogant smirk. “Is it really that hard for you to accept help?”

Serena flushed deeper, not sure whether it was guilt or offense she felt. “No, I just don’t need any help. I’ve turned on radiators before.”

“I don’t mean that. It’s eating you up that I was the one to find you a house, and you can’t even let me turn on the rads. That chip on your shoulder must get heavy after a while.”

Her guilt fled as quickly as it had come. “Me? That’s amusing coming from you.”

“Oh, I earned my chip honestly. What I want to know is what you have to be so angry about.”

The assumption was so astoundingly blind that for a moment she was speechless. “You mean besides the fact that my husband died and left me with two children to raise on my own?”

“Besides that, yes. I would think that you would be grateful for the help, considering the situation.”

She glared at him. “Maybe I’ve had my fill of men telling me what I should be grateful for, as if I’m too weak or stupid to know my own mind.”

“If you think that’s what I’m doing, you’ve spent too much time with the wrong sorts of men.” Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest, his expression once again superior. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face.

No, scratch that. She wanted nothing more than to be able to revel in her righteous indignation without being distracted by the way his sweater clung to the muscles in his arms and shoulders, the sudden desire to know what it felt like to be pressed against that hard body.

What on earth was wrong with her?

Serena forced a flippant smile to match his own, though her heart now beat so hard she was sure he could see it through her sweater. “I suppose you consider yourself the right sort of man, then?”

“I was just making an observation. You’re the one who made it personal.” He took another step toward her, and she forced herself to stand her ground, even though they were nearly toe to toe in the narrow space between the bed and the window.

“There is nothing personal between us.”

“No?” He reached out and twisted an escaped lock of hair around his finger, his eyes never leaving hers. Energy hummed between them, electrifying every last nerve ending, paralyzing her ability to move away. When his gaze dipped to her mouth, her breath stilled in her lungs. She wavered between wanting to kiss him and wanting to push him away, teetered while she waited to see which impulse would win out.

But instead of lowering his mouth to hers, he dropped his hand and lifted one eyebrow. “Do you want to change your answer?”

A rush of irritation burst up in place of her earlier butterflies. What kind of game was he playing? She straightened and fixed her gaze somewhere over his shoulder so she didn’t have to look him in the eye. “Move, please.”

He stared for several seconds, then shifted into the corner so she could slide by. When she was halfway to the door, he said, “I didn’t take you for the type that ran away from a challenge.”

She froze. All her best intentions disintegrated as she turned and marched back to him, so close that he backed into the wall with a thump. “Let me make one thing clear. I’m not some naive girl who doesn’t know what she wants and needs to be enlightened. Not by you. Not by anyone. And just because I’m attracted to you doesn’t mean I feel any need to act on it.”

She spun on her heel and took the stairs as fast as she dared, her heart still slamming against her ribs. His footsteps thundered down the wooden treads after her.

“So you admit it! You are attracted to me.”

Serena didn’t answer as she let herself out and climbed into the front seat of the car. Curse her temper. It wasn’t as if she’d told him anything he didn’t already know—he’d turned her into a puddle by touching her hair, for heaven’s sake—but now that she’d owned up to it, he would be relentless. She flipped down the visor and tucked those stray pieces back into her ponytail, trying to ignore the brightness of her eyes, the color in her cheeks.

A knock on the window startled her. She flipped the visor back up and turned the key in the ignition so she could roll down the window.

Malcolm bent down to her level, his forearm braced along the top of the car. “Have dinner with me. You can’t say something like that and not let me make a case for myself.”

“I’m not interested.”

He studied her closely. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m sorry, did you think we had a moment back there? I didn’t notice.”

His eyes narrowed, and he smoothed his hand over the lower half of his face as if he weren’t sure what to do next. She took advantage of his silence to put the car in gear, and he had to jump back as she began to reverse down the driveway.

“Wait!” he called after her. “Do you want the place or not?”

She braked, but she didn’t even have to consider. It was perfect—in every way but the next-door neighbor. Sticking her head out the window, she called back, “I’ll move in tomorrow.”

Serena refused to look at him as she backed out, and she certainly wasn’t going to peek in the rearview mirror as she accelerated down the road. The frigid air rushed in through her open window, cooling her overheated skin. There was no doubt this was turning into a power struggle, and to her everlasting irritation, the balance had subtly but undeniably shifted to Malcolm’s side.

The exchange with Serena well and truly wrecked Malcolm’s concentration for the day, and he had only himself to blame. Occasionally he gave in to reckless impulses against his better judgment. He should just be relieved that Serena had responded as she had, instead of firing him on the spot.

Of course, as soon as he began helping her find a place to stay, their professional relationship had strayed into the personal. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want it to remain there. It was only one last shred of self-preservation that had kept him from taking the invitation in her eyes and kissing her senseless.

And yes, there had been invitation, no matter what she had tried to tell him. But there had also been fear. It was the fear that had checked him at the last moment.

He barely listened as Liam, the night clerk, gave him the morning update before leaving. Malcolm moved through his duties at the hotel with half a mind, conducting inventory, checking out guests, reviewing time sheets so he could submit them to the payroll company that issued their pay packets. But Serena still nagged at the edge of his mind.

Why the fear? Not of him. She’d stood up to him since the minute she walked through the hotel’s front door, and when she let herself, she actually seemed to like him. It was more as if she wasn’t willing to give up her unfounded assumptions about him. At least she’d owned up to the attraction between them, even if she had inadvertently tipped her hand. Her confidence that she would never act on her feelings felt like an outright dare. He never could resist a dare.

The door to his office opened on cue, and in walked the woman in question. If this kept happening, he’d start to think they had some sort of psychic link.

“You’re back to finish what we started?”

She was clearly prepared this time, because she stared at him coolly, not even a flicker of an eyelash to betray her thoughts. “Hardly. You forgot to give me the keys for the croft house.”

“You forgot them on purpose so you could see me again.”

“Have you ever read any psychology? They call that projection. You’re imposing your own desires on me.”

Was that a hint of flirtation? A slow smile spread over his face. “That’s probably true. But if I recall, you were the one who started it.”

Her lips twitched in what he could swear was an attempt to hold back a smile. “You were the one who started it. But considering you’re my employee, anything else would be improper.”

“Improper, you say?”

“Highly. Sorry.”

Malcolm stood and circled the desk, then perched on the edge while he studied her. “You’re not sorry. You’re scared because we did have a moment back there, and you don’t know what do about it.”

Serena’s cheeks immediately pinked, but she lifted her chin and stared him down. “You don’t scare me.”

“Then prove it. Go out with me. On a real date. No games. Just dinner and wine and two people who happen to find each other attractive. You never know. We might actually have something in common.”

Her stubborn look faltered, just for a moment, as if she were testing his sincerity. Then the calculating look came back. “That was very good. Does that line work on most women?”

“You really are determined to think the worst of me, aren’t you? It’s not a line. I just think it’s time we acknowledge there’s something between us.”

She wavered again, catching her lip briefly between her teeth, and he almost groaned at the sudden impulse that little movement summoned within him. He should have kissed her when he had a chance. Now it would be the only thing he could think about in her presence.

“There’s nothing between us but your imagination,” she said firmly. “And even if there were, I’m going back to Inverness in the autumn. I don’t indulge in meaningless flings.”

“I asked you to dinner, not bed.”

“I’m not interested in either.”

“You’ll change your mind.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.” She gave him a swift nod and then turned on her heel.

“Don’t you need this?” He pulled the key from his pocket, the very reason she’d come here in the first place. Oh, he was getting to her all right.

She plucked it from his hand, but he closed his fingers around hers before she could pull away. “I’d be happy to help you move in tomorrow after work. All you have to do is ask.”

Serena stared at him, unwavering, until he released her hand and the key with it. “I already told you. I can manage on my own.”

He called after her as she slipped out the door, “You don’t have to, you know.”

She just kept walking, the echo of boot heels fading with each step. Malcolm plopped back down on the edge of the desk. He had no idea what went on in that woman’s mind, but now that she’d issued the challenge, he had no choice but to accept.

Despite the bitterly cold wind sweeping across the Sleat Peninsula, Serena gave in to the children’s begging to play by the shore after school. It was Friday afternoon, after all, the end of a long week, and it gave her a much-needed distraction from the thoughts buzzing insistently through her head.

She might have tried to play it cool with Malcolm, but the truth was, even the touch of his hand made every rational thought evaporate. The more she tried to prove he didn’t affect her, the deeper in she dug herself.

“Max, stay out of the water!” she called as her son darted for the shoreline. She sighed as he plowed straight into the water up to his calves, sloshing it over the tops of his wellies.

“Sorry, Mummy,” he yelled back, all earnestness, but by then the damage had been done. Em looked to Serena for approval, then darted off to join him.

By the time they trudged back to the house, the children were shivering and wet, covered in sand to their knees.

“Maybe after supper we can look at the stars. It’s finally starting to clear. I might even make hot chocolate. But only if you go take a bath right now.”

That was enough incentive to make Em dart for Muriel’s en suite, though Max still pulled every excuse he could concoct to avoid the tub in the guest bath. The stargazing idea had been a shameless bribe, but Serena needed something to settle the distracted, squirmy feeling in her middle every time Malcolm came to mind. Which he did with irritating frequency.

Muriel begged off stargazing to turn in early, so as soon as the final glow of twilight faded from the horizon, Serena bundled her children out the door to her car. She hoisted Max up onto the bonnet and gave Em a hand to climb up beside him, then settled herself in between.

Compared to the mainland, there was no light pollution on Skye, just the broad expanse of black overhead, the stars sparkling in the darkness like the scatter of glitter that covered most of Em’s wardrobe.

“Mum?” Em held up her plastic mug, and Serena carefully poured her some of the rich chocolate, decanting more into a lidded cup for Max. He took a sip and then curled up beneath the blanket on the car bonnet as if it were his own bed.

Em lay back against the windscreen and looked up at the stars. “We haven’t done this in a long time. I miss it.”

“Me too. There’s too much light where we live to see anything but the brightest constellations. It’s one of the best things about Skye.”

“No, I mean . . . this. Doing nothing. Together.”

Serena turned her head and studied her daughter. When had she gotten so old? Life hadn’t been easy since Edward died, but Serena had been mostly focused on maintaining their busy calendar and dealing with school issues. Now, seeing the thoughtful look on her daughter’s face, she realized Em had somehow become a young woman far ahead of schedule.

“It has been a hard few years, hasn’t it? I’m sorry if I’ve not been as present as I should have been.”

Em looked surprised. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know you didn’t. But I also know that I’ve been trying to be both mum and dad to you, and I don’t always do it perfectly.”

Em glanced away, focusing instead on the stars overhead. “You always did that. Nothing’s changed since Dad died.”

The bitterness in Em’s voice surprised Serena. Her daughter didn’t like to talk about Edward, but she had thought it was out of grief and finally acceptance. “Well, I miss him. I miss being a family.”

“We were never a family,” Em said, “at least not like that. It was always just you and me. And then Max, of course.”

Tears pricked Serena’s eyes, and she lay back on the car, a heavy sense of failure sweeping over her. She couldn’t have predicted that once they’d had Em, Edward would be more interested in work than in his own family. She couldn’t have predicted that he would die of a heart attack at the age of forty-two and that her daughter wouldn’t get to say good-bye. But somehow she still felt responsible. As though she had failed to give her kids the life she’d been robbed of when her own parents divorced.

She couldn’t say anything, so instead she put one arm around each of her children and hugged them tight to her sides. Max scooted around to get comfortable, a light snore coming from his open mouth, but Em laid her head on Serena’s shoulder.

“So which ones have we not done?” Em asked after several seconds of silence.

“Hmm.” Serena focused on the section of the sky in front of them. “We’ve done Perseus and Ursa and Cepheus—”

“Isn’t Draco around there somewhere?”

“It is. Look. Twisted between Ursa Major and Minor. There’s some debate about the origin of Draco, but I like this story the best. Do you remember the tale of the ‘Twelve Labors of Heracles’?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, Hera tricked Heracles into killing his family, which he deeply regretted.”

“That’s gruesome.”

“Most Greek myths are,” Serena said wryly. “Heracles asked for labors to atone for his sin. The Oracle of Delphi told him he had to serve at the pleasure of King Eurystheus for twelve years. And while he was in the king’s service, Eurystheus commanded him to perform twelve labors—”

“Actually, it was ten.”

“But the king claimed Heracles had help with two. Right. Anyhow. The eleventh task was to steal the golden apples from the garden of the Hesperides. But the apples were guarded by a great serpent beast, Ladon, which twined around the tree that held the apples. And that’s why the constellation is positioned with its head beneath the foot of Heracles.”

“That’s cool,” Em said softly. “But kind of sad when you consider the dragon’s job was to protect the apples, and he got killed for it.”

“I think Sir Frederic Leighton might have agreed with you. He painted the Hesperides singing a lullaby to the serpent.” Serena paused, then added, “Leighton is the painter who did all the ladies in the apricot-colored Greek dresses, like the ones we saw at Tate Britain.”

“Where is this one?”

Serena thought. She’d studied the Victorian classicists in great detail, but she no longer knew the locations of all the paintings. “Lady Lever, I think.”

“Where’s that? Have we been there?”

“No, we haven’t been there. It’s in Liverpool.”

“We should go there. You’d like to see it. Your voice sounds happy when you talk about art.”

Serena smiled. “You’re right. It does make me happy. Maybe we’ll take a trip this summer. There are a lot of good museums in Liverpool.”

“I don’t trust Max in a museum.”

“We’ll keep him on a short leash.” Serena grinned at her daughter, but she took a moment to brush a hand over the soft hair of her sleeping toddler. Moments like this made her grateful for the balance between her two children: her thoughtful, intellectual daughter and her headstrong, active son. “We’re doing pretty well on our own, aren’t we? I just want you two to be happy.”

Em’s expression turned uncertain. “Mum? I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused. I didn’t mean us to have to leave Inverness.”

“Is that what you think? That we came to Skye because of school?”

“Isn’t it?”

Serena hugged her tightly. “No. We could have stayed in Inverness. But I wanted you and Max to know what it’s like to grow up on Skye and speak Gaelic and just relax. At least for a while.” She grimaced. “I guess I miscalculated a little, didn’t I?”

Em shrugged. “It’s not so bad. A couple of the girls at school are nice.”

“And you’re just now telling me? You know I’ve been worried this whole time.”

“Sorry. But I’m okay. So just stop worrying for a minute, will you?”

Her heart full, Serena smiled again. “Okay. What next? I don’t think we’ve done Pegasus in a while, have we?”

They lay there, Serena telling the Greek myths behind the constellations while Em interjected the bits she knew and made wry comments that reminded Serena so much of Edward. Pretty soon Em’s voice started to get sleepy, her body slack against her. Serena nudged her and whispered, “Let’s go to bed now. It’s starting to get cloudy again anyway.”

“Mmm,” Em mumbled, but she pushed herself to a sitting position while Serena slid off the bonnet. She scooped Max up in her arms and carried him inside, while Em stumbled along behind her, half-dragging her blanket.

Once Serena tucked both of them in bed with a whispered prayer and a kiss to the forehead, she went back out to the car and retrieved their chocolate container and the extra blanket. The night was dark and still, the drifting clouds above her obscuring the moon.

It was good to be reminded why she was here in the first place. For her children. To regain a bit of herself, to remember who she was without a man. Not to jump right into the same mistakes she’d made last time, no matter how appealing Malcolm might be.