Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Wednesday started with horrible realization that I didn’t put my phone on silent. The text alert was on repeat and I barely resisted the urge to throw the sleek silver phone against the wall, just to shut it up. I unlocked the screen and blinked, trying to make sense of the unknown number across the screen.

You’ll pay for what you did yesterday. I am no unicorn.

And just like that, I decided that it was going to be a great day! Quickly, I added his number under the name Satan.

Me: Don’t play with fire unless you want to get burned.

Kirby answered.

Satan: I’m the fire… and you’re already smoldering and haven’t a clue. And you’ll smolder for a while since I’m not putting out that fire.

Ignoring him, I got up instead of replying. Seriously. As much as I responded to him… that was nothing more than chemistry.

Chemistry that didn’t mean anything.

I plugged in my teapot and went into the bathroom to take a shower. The rain shower wasn’t as fantastic as I’d expected, but I was thankful for what pressure it did offer. After toweling off, I opened the door.

“Here’s your key back.”

Screaming, I dropped the towel I’d wrapped around myself and slammed the bathroom door. Heart pounding I glared at the door.

“I hate you!”

“I hate you more!” He called in his deep Scottish brogue.

Damn that brogue.

“Why?” I asked, leaning against the door. It was too early for me to be in fighting mode.

“Because I can.”

I sighed.

Then had a brilliant idea.

“Fine!” I shouted and opened the door.

Completely naked.

“Holy shit.” Kirby swore and covered his eyes with the teapot he held.

My teapot.

With a smirk, I walked to my suitcase and pulled out my clothing. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw him lower the teapot and watch.

“Ah... no peeking,” I scolded and started to get dressed.

Slowly.

“Kirby!” I scolded and finished zipping up my skinny jeans.

His eyes were trained on me, his Adam’s apple bobbing once as he watched with unabashed fascination in this gaze.

“I want my key back.” I Walked up to him and held out my hand.

“No,” He replied, his tone thick.

“Yes,” I enunciated. “You just offered it like two minutes ago!”

“Changed my mind.” He took a step toward me. “And dinna you think you can seduce me… you might be a bit more mature than junior high… but you dinna tempt me then, and you dinna tempt me now.” His smoldering blue gaze denied his words.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“I still want my key,” I whispered, his face only a few inches from mine. I could feel his breathing, smell the masculine scent clinging to his skin.

“No.” He leaned forward slowly.

I closed my eyes expectantly.

And heard the door click shut.

Score? Kirby 2. Meredith 1.

His scent lingered in the air.

Thank heavens I had the millionaire date tonight.

I needed the distraction from the devil.

****

That afternoon I decided to explore the Palace of Holyroodhouse. It was the Buckingham Palace of Scotland and filled with history. The huge iron gates I passed through on the tour bus made the statement of royalty and I watched with rapt fascination as we approached. Made of stone, the castle was famous for Mary Queen of Scots and the constant uneasy association with England. It was also the royal residence for the Queen of England and where she would stay during her visit in the summer.

The stone staircase was huge, and I could imagine women in gowns slowly taking each step as it opened to a massive dining room. Leaded windows spilled in light over the fully decorated table. Each place setting had more silverware than I could think of ways to use. We passed through an open courtyard and into several rooms — one of which totally reminded me of Frozen, with Ana talking to the pictures on the wall. It was almost as if they had taken that very room and made it part of the movie.

Which was entirely likely.

I started to hum, “Do you want to build a snow man?” under my breath.

Don’t judge.

We passed through Mary Queen of Scot’s historical rooms, learned about the scandal surrounding her life and death, even saw the place where one of her advisors was murdered.

Before I knew it, I was boarding the bus back, my brain trying to digest all the beautiful images and history I had just feasted upon. The bus dropped me off a few blocks from my hotel.

Rain started drizzling as I walked, and by the time I arrived, I could feel my hair beginning to frizz. Checking my phone, I groaned because I only had an hour to get ready and be at the Balmoral for dinner with Hot Millionaire.

That was my new name for him.

Not necessarily original, but accurate.

Groaning I took the elevator to my floor and then groaned again once I made it to the bathroom and glanced in the mirror.

I had work to do.

Quickly I ducked into the shower, poured on the conditioner and rinsed. With my hair wrapped in a towel, I tweaked my makeup and went the extra mile and actually wore lipstick.

I darted from the bathroom and almost tripped on my discarded shoes but safely made it to my suitcase and pulled out a pair of faux leather leggings and a off the shoulder gray sweater. I knew the Balmoral was fancy, so I added heels to the ensemble and walked carefully back to the bathroom.

Checking my phone I took a deep calming breath.

Ten minutes till I had to leave.

I could do this!

Bending over I twisted off the towel and snapped my hair back as I stood. Large snarls created loops in my hair. Not good.

I ran my pick through, trying to untangle the mess.

As I hit a snarl, my pick went flying to the other end of the bathroom.

Hair: 1

Me: 0

Maybe I couldn’t do this.

Narrowing my eyes as I studied my reflection, I tried to think outside the box.

It was raining outside anyway, so if my hair was wet it wouldn’t be out of place, right?

I was out of time, so after I found some bobby pins I twisted my hair into a tight top bun and hoped I looked more chic than obsessed with gel.

Grabbing my purse on the way out, I rode down in the elevator, then rushed through the lobby and headed for the restaurant. After three blocks I was cursing myself for not calling a cab. But I had my reasons; those being bacon, ham, and sausage. With the amount of breakfast I was eating each morning, I justified myself by deciding to walk everywhere within reason.

Of course, I didn’t think through the whole wearing heels part.

I was going to pay later.

A Scotsman in full kilt opened the door for me as I finally approached the famous hotel and walked in. The lobby was stately and bathed in a yellow glow as I took in the lush seating area, the wingback chairs in rich wood, and gold crown molding accented the ceiling. The gentle sound of tinkling silverware led me to the restaurant.

“Hello,” the hostess greeted. She was about my age with her black hair pulled into a sophisticated twist.

She’d managed to achieve the chic look.

I tried not to be jealous.

“Hi, I’m meeting someone here. Rowland Bryne.” I smiled as I said his name.

She gave me a quick once over. “Yes. If you’ll follow me.” With a tight smile she turned and left without making sure I followed.

Lovely. Yet, as we approached the table and Rowland stood upon seeing my arrival, I couldn’t blame the girl for being jealous.

Hell I was jealous of me.

His green eyes danced merrily as he held out my chair. “Delightful to see you Meredith. You are absolutely stunning.”

“You’re quite dashing yourself.”

“Thank you. I ordered a delicate wine for us to begin with.” He gestured to the table.

“Perfect. What do you recommend here?” I asked as I glanced at the menu.

“Actually at Number 1, they have a Chef’s Tasting Menu. It’s several courses, but you’ll have the pleasure of perfectly paired wine with each course. I’ve had it many times before and it never disappoints.” His crisp British tone made each word sound more important, more significant and I found myself nodding.

“Sounds fantastic.”

“So have you taken the opportunity to sightsee while you’re here?” He asked, taking a sip of the wine he had previous ordered.

“Yes, actually. Today I went to Holyroodhouse. So beautiful, so much history. Everything here is so… old.” I lifted my own glass and took a sip as well. The fruity notes from the wine danced on my tongue, light and refreshing.

“Old, you say? I guess I never truly considered it. But you’d be correct of course. There’s Old Edinburgh and New, and the new is only considered new because its buildings were erected in the eighteenth century.” He shook his head. “Why, that’s when your country started its fight for independence.”

“Exactly. It’s crazy to think about something being that old. At least for me, I mean, where I come from, if a house is a century old it’s practically on the historical register.” I took another sip of wine.

He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. I bit my lip and glanced down. I meant it when I said that he looked dashing. With a suit and tie, he looked like an ad for Brooks Brothers. Everything about him was classy, understated yet modern. Add in a sense of humor, intelligent conversation and knowledgeable about wine?

I could fall in love.

“Where else would you recommend that I visit?”

“Hmm.” He furrowed his brow slightly, drawing my attention to his perfectly arched eyebrows. “I’d consider touring the Royal Mile for sure and seeing the Georgian Era houses. And you certainly must see Edinburgh Castle.”

“I think I’m going to do that this weekend. I wanted a full day for it.”

“Good idea.” He smiled admiringly.

The waiter appeared at that point, dressed in a coat and tie. Rowland ordered for us, and the waiter nodded approvingly of his selections.

The rest of dinner passed in a blur of delicious wine and food. Smoked salmon came first, along with a light, tangy wine that made the salmon’s flavor burst with different spices I’d never noticed before.

They then served a platter of cheeses and fruit, followed by several other wines for each flavor on the silver plate. We sampled Orkney Beef and Wild Turbot and a Tahitian Vanilla soufflé for dessert with a delightful Domane Wachau 2013 wine.

The conversation flowed like the wine, and I found myself more and more attracted to him. He was witty, self-deprecating, yet confident at the same time. And as the evening meal ended, he asked to escort me home.

Like a real gentleman.

A girl could get used to such manners. It sounded old, it sounded cliché, but I was totally loving the whole gentleman/lady idea. It made me feel cherished, protected. Nothing about it made me feel lesser or as if I was unable to do it on my own so I needed a man type thing. Rather it was elevating, as if he did all these things out of honor or respect.

Cue happy sigh.

As we left the Balmoral he reached down and grasped my hand. His fingers warm and inviting, he wrapped my hand through his arm and held me close as we walked and talked for several blocks.

A few yards before the hotel, he paused. “Ah, perfect.”

A raindrop hit my nose and another splashed on my cheek. “And here I thought I was home free. No more rain.” I hitched a shoulder and smiled.

“Actually…” He let go of my hand, reached around my waist, and pulled me close till the spicy scent of cologne teased my senses. “I’ve always thought it was more romantic to kiss in the rain.” He leaned forward, his nose brushing my cheek as his other hand caressed my jawline with a whisper-soft touch.

“I always did like the rain,” I whispered breathlessly.

“Mmm.” He brushed my mouth with a soft kiss. Then as if testing the waters, kissed me again with a little more pressure.

I responded, leaning into the kiss, which was all the invitation he needed. His arms wound around me tightly as his warm mouth caressed mine, his tongue darting out to taste me.

His warmth called to me and I pressed in tighter, kissing him back yet he gentled the kiss and leaned away, ending it. “Perhaps…” He reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “We could continue in a more private venue?” His green eyes searched mine.

Yes.

No.

Yes!

No!

In less than a second, I changed my mind a thousand times. And whenever I faced that type of indecision, I always did the same thing.

When in doubt.

Don’t.

“While that is an excellent idea…” I offered him my most reassuring smile.

“I understand.” He grinned, totally unaffected by my answer. Kissing my nose, he paused then kissed my lips. “Good things come to those who wait and all.”

“So I’m discovering.”

“Are you busy Friday? I’d love to take you to this amazing place for lunch. Fantastic fish and chips.” He reached out and held my hand, wrapping it in his warmth.

“I can’t wait.”

“I’ll text you the address. Unless you’d rather me pick you up?”

“I can walk. I like seeing the city.”

“Delightful. Until Friday.” He squeezed my hand once and left.

After entering the lobby of my hotel and sighing appreciatively at its warmth, I took the elevator up to my room.

I slid in my key card and opened the door.

My body was warm with the wine from dinner, and I could still remember the flavor of Rowland’s kiss. I flicked on the light and tossed my purse onto the bed…

…hitting Kirby directly in the groin.

“What the hell!”

“AHHH!” I screamed and stumbled back against the door, slamming it shut. “Holy shit, Kirby, I’m going to kill you. WHY!” I stomped my foot. “Are you homeless? Is THAT why you won’t give my keycard back?”

“Nope. Not homeless. I’m actually kinda slumming it being here.” He stood, albeit a bit gingerly. My purse wasn’t exactly small.

“Then leave!” Suddenly I was very thankful that I hadn’t welcomed Rowland upstairs.

Talk about awkward, and I was pretty sure Kirby wouldn’t have missed a beat to humiliate me with some payback from the unicorn episode.

“Where’s yer millionaire?” He nodded to the door.

“At home. Not that it’s your business.” I crossed my arms.

“Damn. And here I thought things were going so well. Just can’t seal the deal, can you Merry?” He smirked.

“How would you know anything about Rowland — wait… please tell me Roxi didn’t say anything.” I buried my face in my hands.

“She just told me to keep my distance in case things heated up.”

“I’m going to kill her.”

“Which was basically like giving me a golden invitation for payback.” He shook his head. “Unicorn. Of all the things… you chose a unicorn. And you called…” He took a deep breath and pinched his nose with this thumb and forefinger. “And no man has ever called his claymore… glitter.”

“Claymore? Honestly?” I barked laughter.

“Ach, lass, I wasn’t kidding when I told ye earlier than I didn’t need ta—”

“And we’re done.” I made a slicing motion with my hand. “So very, very done.”

“We are anything but done. And it will be hell to pay.” He took a step toward me, his height and the broad stretch of his shoulders emphasized by the narrow hall I was standing in.

“I’m not afraid of you,” I whispered, holding his gaze.

“You should be.” He narrowed his eyes.

I waited, holding my ground.

“You say you want me to leave…” He inched closer until I could smell the peppermint scent of his breath. “Yet you stand in front of the door, Merry.” He placed a hand on either side of my head and leaned over me, proving his point about the door.

I retreated a step and backed into the solid metal frame. I knew what he was suggesting. And like hell was I going to let him think he won.

“You just want to kiss me again…” I arched a brow, pretending to be amused when all I could do was feel my heart pounding as I tried to think past the way his blue eyes burned.

“You wish.”

“In your dreams,” I whispered, watching in both fascination and surprise as he leaned down.

I was trapped — but I didn’t want to move. It was erotic as hell, pressed up against the door, his arms caging me in, yet at the same time, I knew that if I wanted him to stop he would.

“I dinna like you, Merry,” he spoke seductively, his lips brushing mine.

“I don’t like you either,” I answered after his lips left mine. But differently than before, he didn’t retreat, rather it was as if a dam broke, and his kiss surged through me. He leaned into me, his lips ravaging mine as his beard tickled the flesh around my lips. His hands firmly against the door, he made love to my mouth, his flavor assaulting me with wicked pleasure that was astonishing and captivating. He tasted of peppermint and spice, his scent surrounding me, growing stronger as his lips left mine and trailed to my neck, nipping it playfully.

I gasped, my heart pounding with pleasure as I lost myself in his kiss. I ran my fingers through his hair, a part of me noticing the soft texture in the middle of the haze of passion he had woven around us. He growled against my mouth. His teeth tugged at my lower lip, pulling it into his mouth as his tongue caressed it before releasing it and invading my mouth once more.

My hands left his hair and traced his neck to his shoulders, gripping them tightly. He was solid muscle, his shoulders all hills and valleys and my fingers mapped every inch I touched.

He was raw… and powerful — and no longer kissing me.

Lips wet, I blinked up at him. His gaze was foggy with desire as his eyes darted from my lips to my eyes.

“In the future, I’d not drink so much wine on a date. Clearly, it makes you delusional.” He reached for the handle behind me, and I shifted slightly, completely puzzled. With a quick slap to my ass, he was gone.

I slid down the closed door until I sat on the floor. My knees were weak from the kiss but also from confusion.

I lifted my fingers to my lips, my skin around them tender with a bittersweet ache.

Why had I let him kiss me?

Why had I kissed him back?

And how in hell had he just walked away from a kiss like that in a straight line?

My phone went off, and I slowly stood and strode to the bed. Taking it out I flipped through and read Roxi’s message.

Roxi: How was millionaire? Are things really heating up?

Rowland.

So for some girls it might be normal to kiss two guys in one night… but not me.

Apparently, Scotland brought out the hussy in me.

I tossed the phone on the bed, not wanting to reply.

I needed a moment.

My text went off again.

I glanced down at the lit up screen:

Satan: Unicorns don’t maul like tigers.

I sighed. No… no they don’t.

As I walked toward the bathroom my phone went off yet again.

Wow, wasn’t I the popular one?

Rowland: Friday isn’t soon enough. Breakfast tomorrow?

Right now, I wanted anything that would purge Kirby from my brain.

Me: Perfect! Where?

Rowland: I’ll pick you up around eight.

Me: See you in the morning.

Rowland: I’ll count the hours.

See? That was a gentleman. That was the kind of guy I needed; polite, kind, and considerate.

Not the kind that stole into other people’s hotel rooms and kissed them till they forgot their own name.

That was it. No more Kirby. Tomorrow I’d ask for a different room, and block his calls and texts. It was too confusing, and I was done with it.

With a decisive nod, I got ready for bed.

But damn it all, if it wasn’t Kirby’s face that haunted my dreams.