She clenched her eyes closed, and her shoulders sagged. No way had she agreed to get married. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Plain and simple. Not after her dreams.
Ian dugthrough Becca’s pantry and fridge looking for anything edible. The words tofu and whole grain were like a foreign language. He’d made her what his ma used to pour down his throat to easehis hangover in younger days. Thank God it required only vegetables or he would have had to find the nearest store. He’d blended it while she was in the shower, knowing the noise alone would make her want to cut off her pretty little head.
He fixed her a piece of toast and had it waiting, along with the drink that was sure to put hair on her smooth, creamy, delectable kiss-worthy chest. He was admiring his handiwork when his cell phone vibrated. He was quick to answer after checking the caller ID.
“How is she?” Quinn asked in a new mother, tired voice that told Ian the newborn bairn had kept her up most of the night. The fight normally in Quinn’s attitude and voice had softened some since the birth, but not much.
“She’s hung over,” he said, turning back to look out the window over the kitchen sink. The bright sun in the afternoon sky glinted off the strategically placed gnomes in the backyard garden.
“Any nightmares?”
“Nae, she’s in the shower. I think she’s scared to come out after I reminded her that she agreed to marry me.”
“You better not have taken advantage of my inebriated sister, McDougall. Not unless you’re ready for a real war between our clans.”
“I dinnae touch her.”
“He undressed me,” Becca hollered.
“Ian,” Quinn growled.
“She’s to be my wife, Quinn. I couldnae in good conscious let her sleep uncomfortable, so I changed her. Hell, I havenae even kissed her yet. I dinnae molest her.”
“How would I know?” Becca said from behind him.
Ian turned around to look at her. Her wet hair was up in a ponytail. Her face was clean of makeup. Her eyes were bloodshot red, and her face was paler than normal. “You’ll know when I touch you, Becca. I promise that.” He let out a lengthy sigh. “I’ll call you back when I leave. I need to tend to her.”
“I don’t need tending.”
“Yes, she does,” Quinn and Ian said at the same time.
“I’ll call you back.” Ian hung up and handed Becca the bright green drink.
“What is it?” she asked while sniffing the conconction.
“A cure for a hangover. Drink it fast.”
She took the glass, and pinching her nose, she began to drink while he grabbed her a bottle of water from the fridge and picked up the two aspirin he’d already pulled out for her. It wouldn’t get rid of her headache entirely, but the aspirin would help with some of what she was feeling.
Becca made a gagging reflex as she finished the last drop. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and took the water and the pills.
“That will set you straight.” Ian pulled out the chair in front of the plate of plain toast. “Sit.”
“I’m not a dog, Ian.”
“I ken, and you’re no’ a child,” he said, taking the seat opposite of her. His gaze locked on hers. “Last night you said that the killer comes at night. What did you mean?”
Becca loweredher gaze to the table and clenched her eyes closed. She apparently had told him her big secret. She was officially cutting herself off from any more alcohol. She obviously made bad decisions when under the influence. Maybe that was why Aunty Betty didn’t drink.
“I cannae help you unless you tell me.”
Becca lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. Concern was etched in the planes of his face. The Highlander that liked to joke was gone, and the one sitting across the table from her meant business. “I didn’t ask for your help, Ian, and I’m not marrying you.”
“Yet,” he said, rising from his seat.You will.
“No, I won’t.” She answered his unspoken thought.
“Tell me what I want to know,” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest, “and I’ll leave.”
