To Scotland With Love (19 page)

That was the wrong thing to say. “I'm not doing it for
you. I'm doing it for Graham.” Bonnie spun on her four-inch heels and sashayed her tight-ass jeans into the pub's kitchen.

Cait ran up the stairs and made sure everything was in order. She packed the few things she needed and left, heading back to Deydie's to get Mattie. Deydie didn't ask where Cait had been and she sure as hell didn't tell her.

Over the next few days, all of Gandiegow did their best to keep Mattie busy. Amy had him help out at the store, dusting off shelves. Moira had Mattie and Dingus over for a playdate with her puppy, Snoozer. Ross, Duncan's best friend, came by to play checkers with Mattie while Cait worked on dinner. And every afternoon, Duncan called Cait's cell phone and asked for the boy. The first day, Duncan sounded like himself, but as the week wore on, Cait thought he sounded frailer. “The treatments are rough” was his only explanation. Duncan never mentioned Graham, and Graham didn't call to see how any of them were doing.

As company every night, Mattie would drag Dingus into bed with him. And every morning afterward, Cait would find Dingus, not in Mattie's room, but sound asleep in the center of Graham's bed.

Cait hadn't returned to her snooping, still processing what she'd found. She didn't know why she wasn't eager to go back to her search, but she told herself she had plenty of time to nose through the rest of Graham's things while he was gone. She was wrong. The guys arrived on New Year's Eve afternoon, two days earlier than expected.

When they came through the door, Cait didn't recognize Duncan at first. He'd aged twenty-five years and
looked ten pounds lighter. His skin was sallow, and he ran to the bathroom as soon as he made it through the door.

Thank God Mattie was upstairs with Dingus.

While Duncan was in the bathroom, Cait decided to hit Graham up for information.

“Tell me what—” she tried.

Graham put his hand up to stop her. “I'm not in the mood, Caitie.”

The wall he'd built between them was so palpable she could've reached out and touched it—solid stone, impenetrable. It shouldn't have hurt like a son of a bitch, but it did.
Stupid, stupid, stupid,
she called herself over and over. Why did she expect anything different from him? He was a man, wasn't he? If only she was immune to the charms of the gorgeous Graham Buchanan.

“I'll just go check on Mattie, then,” she managed, before running out of the room.

She ran into Duncan instead.

“Where's Mattie?” he asked.

“Upstairs,” Cait answered. “I'll get him. Tell me what happened first.”

Duncan sighed, a man defeated. “Turns out, I'm not a good candidate for the study. My system is rejecting the experimental drugs.” He looked like he might run to the bathroom again.

“What do we do now?” Cait was mad and sad at the same time.

“There's not much to do. This was my only real option.”

Poor Mattie.
Cait touched Duncan's arm and felt bone.

Mattie came bounding down the stairs with Dingus hot on his heels. The boy stopped short on the bottom step, staring at Duncan.

“Mattie, come to your da,” Duncan said.

Mattie shook his head, running to hide behind Cait.

Duncan looked down. “I'm a fright, aren't I? I'm still your same da though, Mattie.”

Mattie peered around Cait.

Duncan pasted on a smile. “Why don't you and Caitie make me some hot cocoa?”

Mattie took her hand and led her into the kitchen.

Graham walked in moments later and put a sham of a smile on his face. “Can I have a mug, too?” He scooped Mattie up and gave him a bear hug.

Cait caught Graham's sad desperation as he squeezed his eyes shut, holding his grandson tight. Finally, he loosened his grip and Mattie went to help Cait.

Duncan walked in and lowered himself into a chair at the table right before Mattie carefully brought him a mug, sloshing only a tad over the side. He grabbed the marshmallows and gave Duncan extra. For a moment, the boy stood next to his da, then laid a tiny hand on his shoulder.

Duncan tilted his head toward him. “I love you, monkey.”

Mattie pulled a chair closer to his da, and Cait brought him his cocoa.

“What do you say, Mattie?” Graham started. “How about you and your da stay up here at the big house tonight? We'll have a big party for our Hogmanay.”

Cait couldn't help but feel invisible. This wasn't her family. But part of her wanted to belong, just the same.

Before Mattie had time to shake his head yes or no, Duncan answered for the both of them. “No, Da. Mattie and I will head back to the cottage.”

Graham flushed. “Mattie, go upstairs and find
Dingus.” He waited until the boy was out of earshot. “I built this damn mansion for you—my family.”

“I'm worn-out, and we're not doing this,” Duncan said, both exhausted and angry.

“Fine,” Graham said.

Cait put the dirty mugs in the sink as Mattie and Duncan got their coats. She went to the room off the kitchen and grabbed her own. She heard muffled goodbyes, the door shut, and it was quiet.

She should head out too, but she had to confront Graham before he figured out his surveillance equipment had been tampered with. She found him in the parlor, sitting in front of the fire, staring at it blankly.

“Graham?”

He looked up, surprised to see her still there.

She took one step into the room. “I have some bad news.”

“Great,” he said. “Just what I need.”

Because he hadn't exactly bitten her head off, she took another step closer.

“You were bugged,” she announced.

“Bugged?” He looked as if he didn't understand the word.

“As in someone was spying on you.” She'd go to hell for the lie she was about to tell.

“Someone spying?” he asked.

“Are you going to repeat my every word? I'm trying to tell you something important.”

“Go ahead.”

She stepped all the way in but didn't look him in the eye. “You don't have to worry about it, though.”

“Caitie?” His voice had a warning in it. “What did you do?”

“I took care of it,” she said.

“How, pray tell, did you do that?”

“I found all the cameras and deleted all the recordings,” she answered.

“You what?”

“And the backups,” she added, as innocent as the morning dew.

“Why would you do such a thing?”

She shook her head emphatically. “The nerve of some people. Videotaping you in your own home.”

He rubbed his chin. “Did you look at any of this video?”

“No. I wouldn't dream of invading your privacy.”

She saw his sly smile.

“No, I guess you wouldn't,” he said.

“I'll see you later.” She hightailed it out of the room, feeling vindicated and dejected all at the same time.

When she got back to the cottage, Deydie wanted to know what she'd done with Mattie.

“Duncan and Graham are back,” Cait told her.

Deydie said nothing but looked worried. Cait guessed it had to do with Duncan.

But when Deydie did speak, it had nothing to do with the Buchanans. “I'm off to Kenneth's to sit with him tonight so Moira can go out and do a wee bit of New Year's celebrating. You should go with her to the pub. Knock back a few. You deserve it.”

Great. Just when Cait had decided
to hell with it all
, her crotchety gran had opted to be nice.

“I think I will,” Cait said. Drowning her sorrows in a pint or two might be just the thing.

For the next hour, Cait and Moira sat companionably at a table inside The Fisherman while all of Gandiegow
celebrated around them. Amy popped over every little bit to say a few words and then went back to serving the rowdy crowd. For the hundredth time, Cait's thoughts strayed back to Graham, wondering and worrying over how he was doing. She took another sip of her ale.

As if she'd finally conjured him up, Graham wandered in, his mood made clear by his bowed shoulders. Cait held her seat but had a strong urge to rush to him and lift his burden—if only she could.

Moira elbowed her. “Do you see who just came in?”

Before Cait could answer, Amy, from across the room, gestured to her and inclined her head to indicate that
Himself
had just arrived.

“Yes, I see,” Cait said.

Moira smiled at her warmly as Graham made his way to the bar. Bonnie, the annoying gnat, flew over to him with a bottle of Scotch and a shot glass. Cait's hackles went up. Then Bonnie leaned across the bar, practically pushing her boobs in his face, as if she expected him to reach out and fondle them.

Moira stood and pulled Cait up, too. “You'd better go tend to Graham. Don't worry about me none tonight. I'll go help Amy and Coll with the serving, and they can walk me home later.”

“Why does everyone think Graham is my responsibility?” Cait asked. He didn't want anything to do with her. And she didn't want anything to do with him.

Moira shrugged. “He might not be your responsibility, but I think he's taken a shine to you. He's been alone far too long.”

Amy sidled up to them and joined in their conversation. “Moira and I are on the same page. Graham needs a good woman.”

“You're both a couple of ridiculous romantics,” Cait said.

Amy jabbed her thumb in the direction of Deydie's house. “You know I love your gran, Bethia, and Rhona, but they seem to have given up on Graham finding anyone.” She winked at Cait. “But I think he already has.”

Cait rolled her eyes. “Your overactive imagination is at it again. I'm the last person Graham wants.”

Moira touched Cait's arm. “Graham deserves love. He's a good man.”

This was nuts. Neither one of them was listening to her.

Amy tilted her head in Bonnie's direction. “If you don't step in, our friendly bartender is going to take advantage of Graham. He'll hate himself in the morning if it happens. Something has to be done.” She paused, which was unusual for her; silence was not her forte. “I've never seen him like this. He's as vulnerable as a baby seal.”

Cait glanced over. Bonnie, indeed, had a determined gleam in her eyes, which Cait wanted to scratch out.

Moira squeezed her arm. “You'll get him home safely?”

Cait shook her head but said, “Aye,” anyway.

Both of the romantics hugged Cait before she made her way over to Graham. She could feel Bonnie's glare on her forehead like the crosshairs on a gun. Cait ignored her and leaned against the bar next to Graham so he could see her.

“Hey, sailor, want to buy a girl a drink?”

“No. I'm not sure I'm staying.” He looked so exposed and helpless that it broke her heart. She laid a hand on his shoulder.

Bonnie snorted like a wild boar. “Off with you.” She
pushed a shot in front of him. “Graham, darling, here's your drink.”

Cait moved it away. “He said he's not staying.”

Bonnie puffed up, her face turning ruddy. “Why, you little conniving . . .” she hissed. “He's better off staying here with me than being with the likes of you.”

Graham glanced up but said nothing. He didn't seem to care what he did.

Cait was prepared to make a scene—pull a little of Bonnie's hair if need be—but thank goodness, Doc walked over and intervened.

“Do you need help getting him home?” Doc asked.

Graham rose. “Nay, I'm fine.” He looked anything but.

As Cait walked Graham to the door, she caught sight of Moira and Amy beaming at her. Bonnie stood behind the bar giving poor Doc an earful as Graham and Cait slipped out into the cold.

She walked beside Gandiegow's favorite son through the village, wanting to put her arm around him, to do something to comfort him. “Do you feel like talking?”

He made a harsh, throaty noise, which she took as a
no
. It was okay. There were no words anyway for what he was going through and the pain he felt.

They climbed the bluff in silence. At the mansion door, Cait glanced up at him with a sad smile. “Well, I'd better get back to Deydie's.” She turned to go.

Graham reached out and snagged her arm. “Stay.”

“But—” she tried.

“For a while,” he said.

She couldn't turn him down. She followed him inside to the parlor and slipped off her coat while he laid more logs on the glowing embers.

She didn't know what she was expected to do.
Graham was hurting, and he'd made it clear he didn't want to be comforted.

He took off his coat, too, and threw it over a chair before going to the dry bar.

She spoke to his back. “Is alcohol the answer?”

He lifted the whiskey decanter. “I need something so I don't think about . . .” He let the words trail off.

She didn't hesitate but went to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him to her, letting him know he didn't have to carry the burden all alone. He set the decanter down and slumped.

“God, Caitie, what am I going to do if—”

She twisted him around and pulled him close. His head dropped to her shoulder and she rubbed circles into his back.

“I could lose him,” he choked out.

Pain racked him, and it nearly undid her to see him so sad. She lifted his head and saw his despairing eyes. She needed a way to let him know she was there for him, so she kissed him—for a distraction and to comfort. It was a lifeline that he took. He kissed her back desperately, crushing his lips to hers, holding her tight. She gave in to his need. She understood. There was nothing like the threat of death to make a person feel like they had to prove they were alive.

Unabashedly, she kissed him back, sending her tongue into his mouth, making sure he understood she'd use everything she possessed to help lessen the pain.