“I can besucha stupid bitch sometimes,” she whispered in a defeated hiss. “I should know better by now.”
“Sadie?”
Alec sounded wary, extremely concerned, definitely confused, and maybe a little hurt. Wasn’t it amazing how many emotions one could read in a tone of voice? The part of his tone that bothered her the most was that he sounded like he actually cared.
She closed her eyes. He had seemed so—there wasn’t a word in any language she knew that could describe how he had made her feel. And it wasn’t just the physically satisfying part of the sex. He’d made her feel like there was . . . more.
Damn him.Sadie opened her eyes and swallowed hard. Damn Delia straight to the devil too.Avoiding Alec’s gaze, Sadie tightened the tartan around her body and fumbled her way to her feet. The wool cloth itched and set her skin on fire, but she’d be damned if she gave the plaid back to him now. The word of the day was definitelydamn.
She mentally shook herself by what was left of her self-respect and straightened her shoulders. Time to fix this. “Sorry, Alec. I didn’t mean to sound so bitchy. Low blood sugar, I guess. We need to eat. Then I’ll be easier to get along with—promise.” Sort of.
Alec slowly rose to sit with his muscular arms wrapped loosely around his bent knees. He remained silent, studying her with a narrow-eyed look and an entirely too thoughtful stare.
Sadie turned away, snatching the folds of the plaid tighter around her body while at the same time running one hand up underneath the cloth to scratch her shoulders and the back ofher neck. Damn, she hated wool.“Where did my shirt get to? How can you stand wearing this? It’s eating me alive.”
Slowly rising from the pallet, Alec scooped up his linen tunic and held it out to her. “Here. If ye insist on covering yerself, ye can wear myléine.” He took the plaid from her, wrapping and snugging it low around his hips. All playfulness and amusement had left his tone. His jaw was set, his expression stern and unsmiling He took a step toward her and pointed a finger at the center of her chest. “But there will be no donning of yer own clothes.” He spared a glance at her scattered clothing around the clearing, then turned back to her with a dark, smoldering look that shot a thrilling surge of both dread and excitement through her. “Ye will tell me what has set ye so ill at ease. If ye need to eat first, then have ye a bit of bread. I can wait. But we are not done here, ye ken? ’Tis barely past noon and I fully intend for us to enjoy all this day has to offer, so ye best get on with the telling of what it is troubling ye so we can return to much more enjoyable ways of passing the time here on the mountain.”
She backed up a step, pulled the linen tunic over her head, then shook it down in place. The soft cream-colored garment hit her just below her knees and the full sleeves hung well past her fingertips. She rolled the sleeves up to her elbows and fluffed out the folds around her body.
The shirt smelled of Alec—all masculine spice and anI need to be under him againkind of smell. Bullshit.There would be no more of that until she got this figured out.Sadie cleared her throat and shook out the folds of the soft shirt again. “What did you call this? Yourléine?” Maybe if she avoided the real issue and kept the conversation on the light side for a while, she could figure out how to handle this mess.
“Aye.” Alec retrieved the bulging picnic basket from its shady spot beneath the trees and placed it in the center of the freshlystraightened pallet of blankets. “’Tis the old word for tunic . . . or perhaps shirt.”
“Léine,” Sadie repeated as she knelt on the other side of the plaid cooler, which had a woven frame to look like a traditional picnic basket. “Good word. Sounds . . . romance-novelish.”
“I suppose,” Alec said with a dismissive shrug. “I wouldna ken, but I’m sure Esme or Mistress Lydia would. They read such books all the time.”
Alec’s dark, determined scowl effectively staunched all other small talk. He unzipped the insulated top of the vinyl cooler, which was decorated with the same tartan pattern and colors Sadie had seen all over the theme park and inside the family’s private quarters. “Time for food and explanations.” He handed her a clear plastic container holding a pair of sliced hard rolls generously stuffed with what looked like yesterday’s leftover brisket. “Ye will now explain what I have done to stir yer ill will against me?”
Sadie ignored the question. Instead, she leaned forward and pulled out a stack of folded cloth napkins that matched the pattern on the vinyl cooler. She placed them on the pallet, shook one out, and daintily spread it across her lap. “Is this the MacDara plaid?”
Alec seemed to sit a bit taller and lift his chin as he reverently smoothed a hand over the blue, red, and black bands of the plaid draped across his lap and then lightly touched the matching pattern on the cooler. “Aye. Ye will find we Scots take great pride in our colors—and can be quite stubborn about them, as well as other things. Now. Tell me, Sadie. What troubles ye?”
How could she explain it to him without sounding pathetic? And if he was in on the joke, what would she do if he laughed in her face? She stared at him, looking deep into his eyes and searching for a hint of the shallow meanness and bullying she’d battled all her life.
Her heart lightened the tiniest bit and the center of her chest hurt. She scrubbed her knuckles hard against her breastbone, wishing she hadn’t seen so many emotions in Alec’s eyes. No. Alec MacDara was no self-serving bully. She’d bet Delia’s favorite Prada bag on it. Poor guy. Apparently, he was just one of Delia’s pawns too.
Alec pointed at the box of sandwiches he’d handed her. “I’m waiting, Sadie. Eat and explain. Ye will find I am not a patient man when it comes to finding out what’s troubling those I care about.”
Hewouldsay something like that. Sadie rubbed her knuckles up and down her breastbone again, trying to make her heart stop thumping so hard. How could she tell him that she was ready to kick her own ass because she’d gone belly up and become Delia’s obedient little sex pawn when she hadn’t even been his so-calledassistantfor a freaking week?
She opened the container of sandwiches, took one, and held it out to Alec. “Here. Your stomach was growling too.”
He took it from her, wrapped it in the napkin she handed him, and sat it on the lid of the cooler. “I shall eat after we’ve talked.”
He wanted to talk. Okay. She would talk.Sadie folded her arms across her chest and settled her ass more squarely on her heels. Kneeling while naked under the shirt of the man you’d just had amazing sex with wasn’t exactly an ego-boosting position for what she was about to say, but then again, what position would be? She blew out a heavy sigh and sadly shook her head. “I’m angry with myself because I played right into Delia’s little plan—and maybe yours too.” She raked a stray curl behind one ear and looked him in the eye. “That remains to be seen, depending on how this little chat goes.”
Alec frowned, eyes narrowing as he slowly tilted his head. “What little plan?”
And he was already angry.One thing about Alec’s tone and that Scottish brogue—it was like a window into his heart and soul.
“Sex.” Sadie waited. She could already tell that this conversation was going to go straight to hell in a handbasket.
“Sex?” His voice was deeper now, filled with suspicion and just a pinch ofI’m about to kick somebody’s ass.
“Delia said that the only reason you wanted me toassistyou for the six weeks of filming was because you had a fetish for fat girls. She told me to put out.Sex is a transactionwere her exact words. I told her I wasn’t like that, didn’t believe in that, and wasn’t about to play that game. You know that. You saw the email I sent to Dwyn.” Sadie threw both hands up in the air and shuddered. “And by golly, look at me now. Delia’s cheap little whore on the mountain.”
Alec’s eyes flared wide and his face flashed red. His hands knotted into fists and he slowly leaned forward. “Thatiswhat ye think this was?Thatis what you think of me?”
