“I have a thought,” he said, reaching for her bag. “I’ll cover things, then when the statement comes at the end of the month, you write me a check for the amount and I’ll run it through half a dozen attorneys to hide the origin. How does that sound?”
“Slick.”
“It will be.” He would also watch hell freeze over before he let her pay off anything with his name on it, but perhaps that was something they could fight over later. He walked with her to his car and saw her inside, stowed her gear, then got them on the road before anything untoward happened.
His life was exhausting.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he drove, but she seemed content to watch the scenery. If he stopped onceto give her the chance to hop out and pick a bit of heather, well, who could blame him? The woman wasn’t just content to watch the scenery; she was breathing it in.
“Happy?” he asked at one point.
“I would live here forever, if I could.”
He had been all over the world, seen wonders and monuments and priceless treasures, and he had to agree with her. Even if his life hadn’t been so inextricably linked to Scotland, he would have lived there because he loved it. He had the feeling the time would eventually come when he had to do something besides be at the mercy of whatever it was that continued to make an absolute hash of his life, in any number of centuries, but perhaps he could put that off for another pair of days.
He took a little detour in Inverness, pulling to a stop outside where he garaged one of his indulgences. He looked at her.
“I thought we might want to drive something else from here.”
“Something that gets better gas mileage?” she asked, frowning slightly.
“Ah, nay,” he said. “Something that goes a bit faster. You know, for a long journey.” He supposed there was nothing else to be said. He liked good food, expensive wine, and fast cars.
He was such a cliché.
He opened his door, opened hers, then unlocked his garage and rolled up the door. He looked at Emma to see her reaction. She looked at the car, then at him.
“Seriously?”
He smiled sheepishly. “I have no self-control.”
“That’s a Lamborghini.”
“Indeed it is.”
“Is this the extent of your problem?” she asked sternly.
He shifted slightly. “I might or might not have an Aston Martin garaged in London.”
“I’m not paying off your credit card at the end of the month,” she said darkly.
He smiled. “I wouldn’t have let you.”
“You’re as rich as they claim you are, aren’t you?”
“Richer, assuredly.”
She looked at him, then laughed. “Humble about it, apparently.”
“’Tis part of my charm.” He held out the keys. “You can pull it out into the street, if you’d like.”
“And drive it to Edinburgh?”
He hesitated, then ignored her smile. “My altruism extends only slightly past the curb.”
“How far?”
He considered her. “What’s the fastest thing you’ve ever driven?”
