Lucy's choked on her soup.
Fran patted Lucy's back."We thought it was you, but I have to admit to being a tad worried.You hadn't a thing with you except those dreadful clothes, and—" her eyes widened in horror at the unintended insult.
"Oh, no really, it's okay.Trust me."She wouldn't have minded if she ever saw those clothes again.The woman gave an uncertain smile."If you don't mind, though, my things are still in the rental car.It's parked a few miles from here on the road..."
The woman's face brightened, and she straightened."I'll have my husband, Hamish, go up with a can of petrol and you'll have your things in no time.Just call me Fran.I'm the housekeeper and the cook.You'll be meeting Hamish and Ian soon.And don't you worry about a thing, Mrs.Brooks.We're going to do whatever we can to see to your comfort here at Balmorie."Fran did a short curtsy and then fled the room.
"But… I'm not Mrs.Brooks," Lucy admitted to the empty room, feeling guilty as hell.
As soon as Fran came back, she'd break the news.
After she finished her first Scottish meal, she got out of bed and inspected the small bedroom.The tall, arched window was her favorite thing in the room.It showed just how thick the stone walls were and provided a nice seat to gaze out into the night.
Curious to see more of the house and stretch her legs, Lucy stepped barefoot into the hallway.A little look-see wouldn't hurt, and she was the only guest here since the place wasn't officially open yet.
A faded Persian rug ran down the center of the hallway and polished dark wood peeked out from either side.The ceilings were incredibly high, a nice change from the low ceilings in her cramped apartment.Portraits lined the walls.One portrait in particular caught her eye.A man in Highland dress, his shoulder-length black hair pulled back.She found herself smiling up at the handsome Scot because it was the exact image she'd always had in her mind of a Highland warrior—tall, dark, with a strong face and a dangerous glint to the eyes.
It struck her how amazing it was that she was actually here.In Scotland.In an honest to goodness castle, staring up at an old portrait of a Highlander.How crazy was that?
Smiling, she went to the end of the hallway where large double doors opened to an enormous library.A fire in the hearth lit wall-to-wall bookcases.Leather couches and wide chairs made comfortable reading areas, and near the window was a large desk.Behind it, facing her, sat a man.
Lucy froze, surprise caught in her throat.
She hadn't expected to find anyone room and then that actual someone being so ...attractive.Well, she'd found her Scottish hunk, hadn't she?And he was watching her with a steady, intense gaze.
Oh, boy.
The fire spit and crackled, echoing in the quiet room.
As heat crept to her cheeks, she crossed her arms over her chest, feeling exposed and silly in the childish nightgown.It wasn't exactly the image she'd hoped to make with the people of Balmorie.
"Feel free to borrow whatever you like," he said in a deep tone that held a faint Scottish brogue.
His steady scrutiny was disconcerting.Then something in his voice jarred her memory.Her eyes narrowed."And you are?"
As he stood, she half expected him to keep growing.He was tall.And built.And she was a sucker for dark hair, blue eyes, and a nice five o'clock shadow.That stubble and those wicked looking eyes gave him a bad boy—averybad boy—appearance.Lucy swallowed.
He stepped around the desk."Ian MacLaren."His hand caught hers in a warm embrace.
Good Lord, he had to be at least six inches taller than she was, making him around six-foot-four.
Could he be anymore condom worthy?
The errant thought instantly set her face on fire.She suppressed the urge to look down and determine if he might be Mammoth Man material.Lucy squeezed her eyes closed.Gram and Kate were going to suffer for putting these thoughts in her head!
Feeling like a complete deviant, she withdrew her hand and found the nerve to introduce herself with the hope that the sooner she did, the sooner she could make a run for it."Riley Brooks," the lie came out of her mouth so easily it took her a moment to realize what she'd done.Oh God.Crap.She wasn't supposed to say she was Riley, just her replacement.First Fran and now MacLaren.She was two for two."But my friends call me Lucy," she added, feeling miserable.
Just put her in front of a fine, rugged male specimen and she'd lose every bit of common sense she had.
In her defense though, he was really, really fine.
His head dipped in a slight nod."And what should I call you, lass?"
Dear Lord.He did not just call me lass.
But he had and her inner fantasy girl screamed in delight.
She wondered if he even realized how yummy he sounded.And the fact that he called her lass?Downright X-rated.No wonder she was acting like an idiot.A Scottish hunk, using Scottish words, in a Scottish castle.So not her fault.
