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

Chapter Twenty-Three

Gavin lay on his back on the bed, breathing hard, recovering from the incredible sex he'd just had with the incredible woman lying beside him. After their argument a couple weeks ago on the shores of Loch Fairbairn, they'd avoided mentioning their families. He didn't bring up Calli, and she didn't bring up her brothers. They hadn't resolved anything, but they'd taken time to enjoy being together. He followed her through the shops in the village, amazed and enchanted by the way she got so excited over trinkets and T-shirts with goofy sayings on them. When she'd spotted a Christmas tree ornament in the form of a bicycling Santa Claus, Jamie had jumped up and down giggling. Literally. She jumped up and down.

He'd bought her the ornament. How could he not? She'd been so adorably thrilled with it.

"Bicycles and Christmas," she'd told him. "My two favorite things. After you, of course."

That she still called him her favorite thing gave him hope. That she still wanted to have sex with him seemed like a miracle.

For once, he'd convinced Jamie to come over to Iain's place, since the odd Scot had gone out for the day to spend time with "a lass" he wouldn't name. The guy seemed to hook up with a lot of women, so maybe he didn't remember this one's name.

No, Gavin didn't believe that. Iain talked a good game, but the story he'd told about his long-lost love left Gavin with the impression Iain had lost interest in playing the field. It seemed more likely Iain had one lover he saw occasionally, or maybe he fibbed about his amorous pursuits and hadn't been with anyone lately.

Since Gavin and Jamie had the run of the house tonight, and Iain's permission to "have at it with no restrictions," they'd enjoyed themselves in every room except Iain's bedroom. Their last stop had been the guest room where Gavin had slept for the past few weeks.

Eyes closed, he crawled his hand across the bed until he found Jamie's hand. Twining their fingers, he sighed from the contentment of basking in the afterglow of making love to the woman he loved.

"Mmm," Jamie moaned. "See, I was right? Sex without talking is better."

And just like that, she doused his contentment with a bucket of ice water. They hadn't discussed their problems since the day of their second dust-up. He'd come to think of it as The Rammy, a named event like the Battle of the Bulge. He also thought of it in Scottish terms as part of his goal to blend in more with the country where he'd taken up residence. Two weeks had flown by with the two of them talking about lighter topics and steering clear of the weightier issues. He still hadn't approached Lachlan or Rory to make peace with them. He'd let himself luxuriate in the sweet pleasures of spending time with Jamie, though in the back of his mind he always knew the hammer would fall sooner rather than later.

Trevor still hung around her like a mangy, disease-ridden wolf determined to spread his contagions. Gavin had considered renaming the English Ass to something more appropriate, like Patient Zero. Contaminating the world with his ass-ishness.

Jamie must've loved the jerk more than she'd claimed. Why else would his rejection have left her so wounded she couldn't trust Gavin not to abandon her too?

Thinking of the English Ass reminded him of a question he'd been too chicken shit to ask so far. Time to man up.

He rolled onto his side, toward Jamie, and couldn't resist taking a moment to sweep his gaze up and down her luscious body. Those gorgeous tits mounded on her chest, their stiff peaks jutting. He longed to swoop in and suckle them, but he'd had a reason for turning over to face her.

She inhaled a deep breath, lifting her breasts.

What was the reason? He'd had a question or something…

"Already up for another round?" she asked, her cheeks dimpling with a sweetly naughty smile. She flipped onto her side, one hand tucked under her cheek on the fluffy feather pillow.

Iain had great pillows. And super-soft sheets. Gavin wondered if they were silk, which made him wonder if the guy had more dough lying around than he'd let on. Gavin's musing lasted half a second before he suddenly remembered why he'd rolled over to look at the beautiful, sensual woman lying beside him.

"Are you sure you're not still in love with Trevor?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"You called him your Prince Charming," Gavin said. "Being with him was your fairy-tale fantasy come to life. You've never said things like that about me."

"Maybe I don't say things like that when you're in the room."

Not exactly an affirmation she ever did spout girlie silliness about him. He shouldn't care, but somehow, her lack of confirmation stung worse than if she'd denied it.

"I'm noticing," he said, " you haven't denied you're in love with Trevor."

She pushed up on one elbow, her breasts dangling in his face. "I am not in love with Trevor Langley. Satisfied?"

"Guess so."

She squinted at him. "Are you still in love with your ex-wife?"

Gavin sprang up, half sitting, held up by one arm. "What? No, of course not."

A breath rushed out of her, sagging her shoulders. "Then why won't you tell me anything about your marriage?"

"Nothing much to tell." No excuse, he knew that. He sat up all the way, facing the foot of the bed, and bent one knee to rest his arm on it. "I met Leanne three months before my unit was deployed to Afghanistan. I asked her to marry me a week before I shipped out, and we flew to Vegas to get hitched the next day. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"You loved her."

"Thought so. I mean, she was sweet and fun to be with, but she always had this restlessness about her. Like she was never satisfied with what she had." He ducked his head, plowing a hand through his hair. "I was gone for six months. Leanne emailed me every day, sent care packages, and we Skyped a lot. Everything seemed fine. When I came home, I got out of the Marines and started looking for a job. Leanne was working, so she told me to take my time and find the right job for me. Thought I'd get something fast, but eight months later, I still hadn't found anything. That's when my parents died."

Jamie leaned against his back, her skin on his, her cheek on his shoulder.

He sank back a little, loving the feel of her body against his. Even the comfort of Jamie couldn't overwhelm the discomfort of reliving the worst time in his life for the second time in less than two weeks.

"I still remember like it was yesterday," he said softly, "when Calli called to tell me about the accident. She was crying and could hardly get the words out. I told you what went on after that. Leanne stuck by me and nursed me through it all. If she hadn't been there…"

He shook his head, shutting his eyes.

Jamie wrapped her arms around his torso, cuddling tighter against him.

"I fell apart," he said, unable to keep the self-loathing out of his voice. "Leanne kept me going, she's the only reason I wasn't holed up in bed with my head under the covers. I always thought I was strong, but I found out I wasn't at all. Leanne took care of me, but Calli had to do everything else. Make funeral arrangements. Talk to a lawyer. Do the probate crap. You know the rest."

He should've moved away from Jamie, not let her comfort him, but he couldn't budge an inch. He'd never explained how he felt about all of this. Didn't want to tell her now. She deserved to know the whole truth, though.

Afterward, if she'd rather be with Trevor, he wouldn't stop her. She deserved a real man who could take care of her when terrible things happened.

Scratch that. He'd do whatever it took to stop her from going back to Trevor — but he'd feel bad about it. He'd rather be a selfish prick than live without her.

"By the time I woke up and manned up," he said, "six months had gone by. Leanne left me not long after. I couldn't blame her, not after all the drama I put her through. She said I was stifling her, and she needed to find herself in New York. Walked away and never looked back. I got a job in Minneapolis to be closer to Calli. We didn't talk about our parents. After she got her master's degree, she moved to Michigan for a job."

Jamie's chin stayed on his shoulder. "And you were alone."

"Yeah."

"Were you lonely?"

He rubbed his neck. "Uh, yeah, I guess. Some tough guy I turned out to be."

She pressed her lips to his neck. "Are you expecting me to be disgusted with you?"

"If I'd been a real man, I wouldn't have let my sister get roped into marriage fraud. That's a real crime, you know."

"Everything worked out." Jamie girded her arms tighter around him. "Calli met Aidan, and they're very happy together."

"I know. I'm happy for her, but —" He clapped his mouth shut. No way would he say those words, the ones he'd thought when he was talking to Calli a few weeks ago.

"You feel like Aidan stole your sister."

"Sort of. I know it's dumb, but… well…" Shit . He had to tell her. Enough keeping his stupid thoughts to himself. Talking was supposed to be cathartic, right? "I'm the last living member of the Douglas family. I'm alone."

Jamie crawled in front of him, twisting around to face him. "You are not the last member of your family. There's Calli and baby Sarah. And your cousin, Tara."

"Calli's a MacTaggart now, and Tara got married too. I'm the last one."

"Gavin —"

"It's true, Jamie." He dropped his chin so low it nearly bumped his chest. "Calli has a new family. She moved to Scotland for Aidan, to become a MacTaggart. Everyone I've ever loved has abandoned me."

Jamie splayed a hand over his cheek. "I haven't."

"Not yet." He laid his hand over hers on his cheek. "But if I can't make your brothers happy, we don't have a future together. You said that."

She opened her mouth, seeming like she was about to speak, but stopped.

Yeah, there was nothing left to say.