Gift-Wrapped in a Kilt (Hot Scots #4)

Chapter Eleven

"There's a young man at the door for you, Jamie," Mrs. Darroch said. She stood in the doorway of Jamie's room on the ground floor of the castle, eying Jamie with a tight-lipped expression. "It's that Trevor person. Should I tell the wank to leave off?"

Jamie laughed. "Wank? Never heard you use that word before."

"Donnae care for this one. He's… ungentlemanly." Mrs. Darroch sniffed and lifted her nose, making her gray curls bounce. "Causing a scene at the party last night, that's no way to behave. And poor Gavin…"

The housekeeper, who doubled as a mother hen, had adored Gavin from their first meeting. She thought he was "charming" and "clever" and "sweet enough to eat." Mrs. Darroch often pinched and patted Gavin's cheeks, which always made him blush. Despite the fact he'd dumped Jamie, Mrs. Darroch still believed they belonged together.

"Will ye see the w — the young man?" Mrs. Darroch asked.

Jamie slid off the bed and slipped her feet into a pair of slippers. "Yes, I'll see him."

"Donnae sound excited by the prospect."

Was it her imagination, or did Mrs. Darroch look pleased that Jamie was less than thrilled about seeing Trevor?

"He's no Gavin," the woman said, "is he?"

The housekeeper's preference was clear. Every woman Jamie knew encouraged her to take Gavin back — not that he'd asked her to or expressed any interest in reconciliation. Her sisters, Catriona and Fiona, fawned over Gavin. Her sisters-in-law, the three American wives, all thought Gavin was wonderful. Only her brothers expressed no particular opinion about her relationship with Gavin, though Aidan had developed a polite attitude toward his wife's brother.

Gavin believed her brothers hated him. She couldn't subscribe to that theory. Lachlan, Rory, and Aidan didn't hate anyone. They were the best men she'd ever known, except for Gavin. But lately, he'd turned into a bit of a nutter.

"Ye coming?" Mrs. Darroch asked.

Jamie nodded and followed her down the hallway, through the dining room and into the main hallway. At the entrance to the vestibule, Jamie stopped.

Mrs. Darroch headed up the spiral staircase.

The door to the outside was closed. Mrs. Darroch must've left Trevor standing there, instead of inviting him inside. A silent expression of her feelings for the Englishman.

Jamie glanced down at her clothes — a loose-fitting T-shirt, yoga pants, and fuzzy slippers. Well, what did a man expect when he turned up at her door at nine in the morning? Not that she cared what Trevor thought, anyway. Sighing, Jamie crossed the vestibule and swung the door open.

Trevor Langley beamed at her, though the expression seemed a bit forced. "Jamie, you look lovely this morning."

He looked like an advert for men's clothing. The blue of his polo shirt set off the matching highlights in his gray eyes, and his charcoal slacks featured a modern fit that accentuated his muscular thighs. The sun painted his sandy hair in golden hues until they almost glowed like a halo.

"What do you want, Trevor?"

"No pleasantries, then." He leaned against the doorjamb. "Have you eaten yet? I was hoping to buy you breakfast in the village. I saw a cafe that looked perfect."

Her throat tightened. Loch Fairbairn had one cafe, the place where Gavin had offered her a credit card instead of an engagement ring.

"Thank you, no," she said.

Trevor craned his neck to peer around the jamb into the vestibule behind her. "Are you going to invite me in?"

"Not a good time." With one hand on the door, she eased it halfway shut. "Have a safe trip home."

He chuckled. "I'm not going home, love. Not unless you come with me. Didn't I make my intentions clear last night?"

Unfortunately, he had. Right in front of Gavin.

Jamie might've been upset with Gavin for the fiasco at the cafe, but that didn't mean she wanted to take up with Trevor. Once, she'd found him beautiful and alluring, and his accent had tickled her senses. Now, she felt only phantom sandpaper scraping along her nerves.

"You left me," she said, "because I didn't fit into the posh lifestyle you wanted so badly. Looks like you've found it, congratulations."

His brows lowered, and his lips angled down, but the expression vanished in a heartbeat. "You ended our engagement, Jamie, not me."

"Maybe I was the one who said the words, but you made it clear you wanted out." Her hand still on the door, she clamped her fingers over the edge. "I haven't changed. I still want to stay here in the Highlands."

"That's the best part." He straightened and took possession of her free hand. "As I said last night, I'm buying an old distillery here. We could turn it into a tourist attraction, or anything you like. Say the word and it's yours." He raised her hand to his mouth and skated his lips across her knuckles. "I'm yours."

She stifled a derisive laugh. "Come off it, Trevor. You didnae buy a distillery for me. You bought it to add to your bank balance, as if you need more money. I value family and loyalty, not money and status. I have no interest in your project or you."

"Loyalty?" His lip curled. "How does the American pisser give you that? I heard he broke your heart. Can you honestly say you want him?"

Jamie opened her mouth to remind him he'd broken her heart, but she stopped. Had he hurt her that much? She'd been upset, of course, when he walked away from her. But broken-hearted? No, she couldn't claim that. She hadn't loved him enough to feel half the pain Gavin's non-proposal had caused her.

Maybe Gavin thought she wasn't good enough for him. Why else would he string her along for eighteen months?

She tore her hand free of Trevor's. "My relationship with Gavin is none of your business. I do not want you. We will never be a couple again. Nod if you understand."

He sighed and tilted his head sideways. "I knew it would a hard slog to win you back. I'm in this for the duration, Jamie, and I won't give up."

"There's nothing to win or give up. I am not interested, and that's my final word."

With a condescending little laugh, he chucked her under the chin. "I've always admired your spirit."

He ambled toward the driveway.

Jamie slammed the door. The bang reverberated in the vestibule.

Emery appeared in the doorway as if she'd been hanging around in the hall. "Everything okay? Mrs. D mentioned your ex was here. Then I heard the door slam."

"Trevor wants me," Jamie said. She rubbed her forehead where an ache had begun to throb. Between Trevor and Gavin, she had too much manly nonsense in her life. "I told him I don't want him, but he says he won't give up."

"Yeah, he told Rory he made a huge mistake letting you go." Emery waved for Jamie to follow her into the hallway. "Come on, we'll talk in the sitting room."

Jamie let her sister-in-law shepherd her through the dining room and down the guest-wing hallway to the sitting room. Emery sat down on the sofa, patting it in a tacit invitation. Jamie flopped onto the cushion beside her, huddled in the corner.

"Why the bloody hell did Rory invite Trevor to the party?" Jamie asked.

"Not sure. He conveniently fell asleep before you and I finished our chat, and he conveniently has a long conference call this morning." Emery propped her feet on the coffee table. "Don't worry, I'll grill him later. Rory will explain and make it right."

"Make it right? How?" Jamie snatched up a throw pillow and hugged it to her belly. "Trevor's here, and he won't go away. Short of thumping him on the head with a big rock, I don't see a way to change his mind about winning me over. I told him flat out I am not interested."

Emery made a noncommittal noise. "Men can be stubborn, especially when their masculine pride gets the better of them."

"What do I do?"

"Um…" Emery squinted her whole face as if straining her mind in search of an answer. With a brilliant smile, she said, "Well, if you decide on the rock-thumping idea, I'm sure your brothers would volunteer to drag Trevor's limp body over the border to dump him in England."

Jamie dropped her chin toward her chest, moaning piteously. "Not helping, Em."

"Sorry. I'm just not sure advising you is the best course this time."

"Are you joking?" Jamie peeked up at Emery through her lashes. "Meddling is your favorite pastime."

"No, not my number-one favorite." Emery's gaze turned dreamy, aimed at nothing in particular. "My favorite pastime is getting it on with Rory."

"Ech! Donnae talk to me about doing that with my brother."

"You do realize Erica gets it on with Lachlan all the time, and Calli and Aidan do it —"

Jamie hurled the pillow at Emery.

Emery dodged the pillow, and it bounced off the end table behind her to land on the floor. "You brought up the issue of my favorite pastime. I was being honest. Besides, Rory and I have never done it twenty feet away from a family gathering."

Jamie threw her hands up to cover her face and peeked out between her fingers. "Did you hear us?"

"No-no, nothing like that," Emery said. "I deduced the fact based on your flushed and flustered state after you and Gavin snuck off together."

A horrid thought occurred to Jamie, and she sat bolt upright. "Did Rory deduce the same fact?"

Emery waved a dismissive hand. "Oh no, he would never consider the idea. He probably thinks you're still a virgin."

"I doubt that." Jamie relaxed into the sofa. "I told Aidan I'm not a virgin when he caught me buying condoms once. If he knows, Lachlan and Rory know too."

"But they don't want to think about their baby sister having erotic adventures."

No, they wouldn't. Her brothers wanted to know about her sex life as much as she wanted to know about theirs.

Emery hopped to her feet and clapped her hands. "I have the solution."

"To what?"

"Your glut of men." Emery spread her hands. "Rory and I are going to Skye for three weeks. That gives you plenty of time to sort out your love life."

"What?" Jamie sprang to her feet. "How is that helping me? You're leaving me for three weeks."

"Be back in time for Thanksgiving."

"Which is an American holiday. We don't have it in Scotland."

"True," Emery said, "but this family has Yanks in it now. And we insist on celebrating our American holiday of gluttony and giving thanks."

Jamie's shoulders sagged when she thought about this plan. For the bulk of November, she would be alone in this castle while fending off Trevor's advances and who-knew-what from Gavin. "I can't do this alone."

Emery grasped Jamie's shoulders. "You need to work this out on your own. With the house to yourself, you'll have no excuses. You and Gavin can get it on in every room if you want. And you'll be forced to talk to him."

"No talking. I told him I wanted sex only."

Her sister-in-law rolled her eyes. "Oh Jamie, we both know you don't want casual."

"I know, but —" Jamie threw her head back to scowl at the ceiling. "Don't know what I'm doing."

"Which is exactly why you need three weeks without siblings or sisters-in-law interfering."

Jamie shot Emery a dubious look. "How am I supposed to stop my brothers and sisters from poking their noses in?"

"Calli and Erica will keep Lachlan and Aidan in line. And I'll talk to Cat and Fiona."

Rory's wife seemed to have it all worked out. Would three weeks give Jamie time to untangle the mess her life had become? To find out, she'd have to give Emery's plan a go.

"All right," Jamie said. "Go to Skye, and I'll… do something here."

Emery gave her a quick hug. "I believe in you, Jamie. You can handle the situation all on your own."

Jamie considered the idea of having the castle to herself for a moment, then remembered an important fact. "Mrs. Darroch will be here."

"Nope," Emery said. "She's leaving this afternoon to visit her daughter in Caithness."

"Oh." Completely alone? For nearly a month? Gavin and Trevor might drive her insane. "If you come home to find two corpses in the vestibule, have Rory haul them into the woods."

Emery laughed. "That won't be necessary. If you murder your suitors, call Aidan. He'll bring his backhoe to dig the graves for you."

With that, Emery strolled out of the room.

And Jamie was left to ponder two thoughts. One, everyone she knew had a morbid sense of humor. And two, the next three weeks would test her patience, her willpower, and her inner strength.

Two men. Three weeks. What could go wrong?

*****

On the afternoon following the worst Halloween party ever, Gavin got desperate. Iain had told him Aidan said Lachlan heard from Rory that Emery had seen Trevor at Dùndubhan that morning. The MacTaggart grapevine reported the Brit begged Jamie to take him back but she said no. Had she meant it? Or was she thinking about taking up with the English Ass? Jamie had told Gavin she wanted sex, nothing else — from him. Though he couldn't picture her doing him on the side while having a regular romance with Sir Smiles-A-Lot, he could imagine her kicking him to the curb to take up with Trevor.

Any woman would love a smooth-talking rich boy.

With no other ideas, Gavin headed to Dùndubhan to see Jamie. What he would say, he had no clue. Mrs. Darroch answered the door, pinched his cheek, and escorted him into the kitchen.

Jamie was slumped on a stool at the granite island. She poked at a lump of half-melted ice cream in her bowl, her gaze downcast, her expression melancholy.

Gavin wanted to rush over there and drag her into his arms to kiss away her misery. But it was his fault. She might not want comforting from him.

"There ye are, mo luran ," Mrs. Darroch said as she nudged him across the threshold toward Jamie.

Mrs. Darroch bustled off to do housework or whatever it was she did around here. Gavin had never asked exactly what her duties were since it wasn't his business. Sometimes she seemed like the house mother at a fraternity.

Jamie glanced at him, her spoon going still between her fingers.

"Hey," he said. Way to charm the socks off her .

She pursed her lips. "Mrs. Darroch is trying to play matchmaker. Do you know what she called you? Mo luran . It means 'my pretty boy' in Gaelic."

"That an insult or a compliment?"

"It's an endearment, Gavin. Means she likes you." Jamie stabbed her spoon into the soft mound of chocolate ice cream. "She never called Trevor mo luran ."

Maybe Mrs. Darroch liked him, but he wouldn't count her on his team yet. Everyone sided with Jamie. He wasn't at all sure they were wrong. Still, it made him uneasy being surrounded by an army of hostile Scots bent on destroying him.

If Calli were here, and he'd spoken that sentence out loud, she would've slugged him in the arm and told him to stop being so damn paranoid. She would've been right.

But she wasn't here to rein him in, so he blundered ahead on his own.

"Wanted to talk about last night," he said. "Why didn't you ever tell me you had a serious boyfriend before me? You never mentioned Trevor at all."

Her eyes, always bright with life, turned dull. Her focus retreated into a distance he couldn't see. "He was more than my boyfriend. We were engaged."

Gavin stumbled backward a step. "What? You never told me —"

"I'm sorry. It's not a time in my life I like to dwell on. Things ended badly." She stared down at her ice cream, her shoulders folding in. "I had no idea Trevor would be at the party."

"Yeah, I know." Gavin couldn't prevent his lip from curling when he muttered, "Rory invited him. Interfering bastard."

Jamie leaped off her stool. The spoon tumbled from her grasp to clatter in the bowl. "Rory is not a bastard."

Gavin winced. He seemed to do that a lot lately, probably because he kept screwing up. "Sorry. I meant bastard as, like, sort of a general term for an annoying guy."

"Annoying?" She lodged her hands on her hips. "Rory is my brother. Do I tell you Calli is annoying?"

"Calli isn't irritating. She's sweet and kind."

Jamie rolled her eyes and sighed in melodramatic style. "Calli's a perfect angel, of course. You won't hear a bad word about your sister, but I'm meant to sit here and take it when you insult my brothers."

Where had this conversation gone wrong? The second he'd opened his mouth, that's when.

Gavin shoved both hands in his hair and scrubbed his scalp. It didn't loosen up any common sense that might've been stuck in the back of his brain. "It's not the same. You get along with Calli."

"Have you ever tried to get along with my brothers?" She whapped a hand down on the island. "The answer is no, you haven't."

"I tried, but they hate me."

She threw her hands up and unleashed a frustrated noise. "They donnae hate you. The problem is yours, not theirs."

Gavin couldn't help it. Anger seared his chest and tensed his whole body. "Right, your brothers are the most amazing guys ever to walk the earth. They've got no faults, no prejudices, just layers and layers of awesomeness."

She buckled her arms around herself, head drooping.

He should've shut the hell up, but an anger he couldn't understand drove him to keep going. "Wake up, Jamie. Rory brought in your ex-boyfriend to try to get between us."

Her head snapped up, and though she glared at him, her beautiful eyes shimmered with gathering tears. "Are you implying my brothers are the source of our problems?"

"No, I'm flat-out saying it. They want me gone."

"Ahmno listening to this."

She stormed out the door, her shapely figure dwindling out of sight as she raced deeper into the castle.

Gavin stood immobile at the island. His gaze flicked from the doorway to the ice-cream bowl, back and forth, his focus split by warring needs. Find Jamie and apologize. Hide in here. Chase after her. Run out the front door.

He stood there, stiff and cold. For a long, long time.