The Great Scot Read online

  “I appreciate the care and concern, I do, but rest assured that I’m quite content dealing with my concerns here.” He gently ushered her towards the stairs. “Thank you for stopping by,” he went on, following her down the stairs. “Please give my best to Doris and the rest.”

  Not one to be steamrolled, Letty halted their progress in the grand foyer. “Perhaps you should come into town. As a businessman now, not to mention our chief, it wouldnae hurt you any to be seen more about the village.”

  It was a gentle rebuke, but one he took to heart. Because she was right. He should be a more visible leader, even if the position of clan chief was largely figurative at this point. From a business standpoint alone, it behooved him to be on friendly terms with the villagers. His guests would be spending time in the village shops, and he’d be wise to encourage the shop owners to talk up the bed and breakfast to other passers-through as well. “I’ll do my best.”

  Her smile softened and she patted his arm again. “We all want ye tae succeed, Dylan. We know how hard all four of ye work, maintaining Glenshire and all that the Chisholms have worked so hard for. Glenbuie prospers because of your efforts. And it’s with that in mind that I want you to listen to what I have to say about this offer ye’ve so hastily turned down.”

  Just when he’d thought this particular skirmish was over. He reined in his impatience, and forced a smile onto his face. “Have yer say then.”

  “Only that we’d all benefit from your agreeing to it. In fact, I’ve never seen the town quite so excited about any prospect. It was rather unifying.”

  When hadn’t the villagers been a unified lot, Dylan wanted to know, but wisely didn’t give voice to the question. Letty was on a roll now, and obviously on a mission as well. Best to let her say her piece, if he had any hope of getting more work done this day.

  “Letting Miss Erin move her television show into Glenshire would be a great boon to us all. Think of the economic boost we’d all receive from such publicity.”

  Apparently the villagers were no more immune to the Yank’s charm than he’d been. Fortunately he was the one making the decision here. “Ye canno’ honestly wish to have them descend upon us like a pack of jackals, turning our lives inside out, and all to broadcast us on some crass American—”

  “Och, now ye sound like the city snob we all feared ye’d become from too many years spent falutin’ about with all your posh friends. I know better, Dylan. You just want to hide out here and lick yer wounds.” She lifted a hand. “I’m no’ meaning any insensitivity, I’ve only your well-being in mind when I say this, but perhaps it’s time to think on a grander scale, and put the needs of the town, your villagers, your clansmen, before your own.” She squeezed his arm. “More important, though, I think throwing your doors open to Erin’s crew might do you a world of good, yourself.” She finally released him and stepped through the front door he was presently holding open for her. Just outside, she paused and looked back, a soft smile on her face, and a steely glint in her eyes. “She’ll be in town until morning. Do the right thing. For us. And for yourself.”

  Chapter 3

  “No, I haven’t given up, Tommy. Yes, I know minutes are money. Yes, this place is worth the extra twelve hours, I promise. I’ll have it sewn up by tomorrow.” Please don’t make a liar out of me, Dylan Chisholm.

  Erin disconnected the call with her boss and tossed her phone on the bed, then went to stand in front of the window of her hotel room. From the top floor, she had a lovely view across the village square. The sun had finally set an hour ago but between calls to her assistant and the one from her boss, Erin had missed it. She raked her fingers through her hair and massaged her temples as she watched the people below. So many of them, out enjoying the early summer evening as the moon climbed higher in the starry night sky, strolling hand in hand, pausing now and again to chat with others out enjoying the evening as well. She wondered what it would be like, living in such a place. No pressure, no traffic, no harried phone calls and pre-production lists of demands. It was a Tuesday night and no one appeared to have anything better to do than amble about and make small talk.

  “Must be nice,” she muttered, then turned away and dug a fresh shirt out of her luggage. She unrolled it, shook it out, debated on the relative merits of tracking down an iron, but that would mean actually using one, so she tugged it on as is, smoothed it as best as she could, then grabbed her satchel and headed for the door. Her plan for the evening was to head over to Hagg’s, but it wasn’t a social call. She was on a mission to chat up the locals some more. The pub seemed to be the social center of the small village and given how open and encouraging everyone had been earlier today in the lunch crowd, her hope was they’d be even more amenable this evening, their work day over.

  Of course, there was the little matter of Brodie and his failure to call his brother about her business proposition. She didn’t think he’d just been humoring her, nor did she think that of the locals, either. He’d probably just gotten busy and hadn’t gotten to it before she’d arrived. She’d stopped by the local sandwich shop to grab a bite on her way back into town and the few people she’d come across had all asked her how her meeting with Dylan had gone. And here she thought L.A. had a good gossip loop. They’d each seemed sincerely disappointed when she couldn’t report that an agreement had been reached.

  She hoped that buzz had spread. Maybe if she was really lucky, by the time she reached Hagg’s, they’d have already formed some kind of plan, or committee or something. She took the elevator down and found herself slowing down her usual pace a little, sauntering a bit as she crossed the square to the pub. She took a few precious seconds to enjoy the warm breeze and the relaxed vibe of the town. If she ever took a vacation, this place would be perfect, she found herself thinking, then smiled at the thought. She loved her job. It took her all over the world. She didn’t need a vacation.

  She reached Hagg’s and pushed open the heavy oak door to the pub and quickly apologized when the door bumped into someone on the other side. The older gentleman shifted quickly out of the way and sketched a light bow as he held the door open for her. “Come on in.”

  “Wow,” she said, squeezing herself into the place. It was jam packed. On a Tuesday. “Busy place.”

  “We’ve a bit of entertainment tonight.”

  “Ah.” She realized everyone was facing the rear of the bar, so she raised up on her tiptoes trying to see over their heads. “Music?” she asked, thinking it would be nice to see one of the local ceilidhs she’d heard about. Once she landed Glenshire, she’d have to scout additional locations for Greg’s dates. On her list was possibly incorporating the traditional Scottish folk music and dance into one of those dates.

  “Not tonight,” the older man said. “Not yet anyway.” He faced her and stuck out his hand. “I’m Alastair, by the way,” he said. “I run the repair shop across the way with my daughter. Brodie, here, is my son-in-law.”

  There was no mistaking the pride in his lovely blue eyes and Erin found herself smiling and shaking his hand with sincere pleasure. “I’ve heard nice things about them both, all well deserved, I’m sure. I’m Erin—”

  “MacGregor, aye,” he finished for her.

  Erin lifted a brow, but his smile only brightened.

  “Small villages have big ears. The whole place is buzzing with news of your visit to Hagg’s and Glenshire.”

  Erin smiled. She couldn’t have hoped for better. And it looked like she might have Alastair on her side. Someone with an actual direct tie to the family, who was also a business owner, and didn’t appear at all put out by her presence in town. If anyone could get to Dylan, make him understand what a great opportunity he was passing up, it was quite possibly this man. She cranked up her smile, and hopefully her charm, and said, “Is it good buzz, or bad buzz?”

  “Quite good.” His eyes twinkled. “But then, it’s no’ often we get a fetching lass from across the pond visiting our modest little village.”

 
So, she thought, he was seduced by the whole Hollywood thing, too. Because fetching she was not. Whatever worked. “So you know why I’m here, then. Could I buy you an ale, perhaps? Bend your ear? I have some questions I was hoping to get answered and I think you’re just the man to help me.”

  Alastair’s laugh was rich and infectious. “The man with the answers? I dinnae know so much as all that, but I’ll never turn down an offer of an ale.” He began to expertly weave his way through the standing-room-only crowd. “Follow me, stay close.”

  “What’s the hubbub all about?” she asked as she steered behind him, raising her voice to be heard over the sudden cheer that went up, starting somewhere in the back of the pub.

  “Dart contest.”

  “Ah. I’m guessing you take that pretty seriously then.”

  “Of course. My daughter is the reigning champion, you know.” He shuffled them around the side of the bar and miraculously wrangled her a stool. But then, most everyone was standing and craning their necks to watch the dart contest. He gestured her to take the seat.

  “I didn’t know that. That’s great. Oh, thanks, but I can stand.”

  He waved her to sit. “You’re buying, I’ll stand.”

  She laughed with him and began to relax a little. Maybe it was all the bubbling energy inside the small pub, or being bodily swallowed up in the easy camaraderie of the crowd, but her anxiety about getting the job done was easing a bit. She waved at Marta who was working behind the bar and signaled for two ales. Earlier today Marta had been working back in the kitchen, preparing some of the best beef stew Erin had ever tasted. But she didn’t see Brodie anywhere tonight, so perhaps Marta was pulling double duty.

  Another cheer went up, and she shifted around on her stool to see what was going on now. The cheer was followed by hoots and catcalls. She turned back to Alastair, his smile rueful now.

  “Och, but the lad should have known better than to tangle with my Kat. She doesn’t play to lose.” He shook his head. “Even when it might be in all of our best interests if she did.”

  Marta slid two ales onto the bar in front of them and Erin picked hers up and took a sip. “Who? Brodie?” She thought it was rather sweet that Brodie’s wife came to the pub after work and played darts with him. Even more charming that the entire village enjoyed the apparently heated battle between the newlyweds.

  Alastair shook his head. “Dylan.”

  Erin almost sprayed her sip of ale. She surreptitiously wiped her chin with her sleeve and tried to adopt a casual mien. “Really? I thought I heard earlier today that he wasn’t much of a joiner when it came to village activities. In fact, the locals made it seem as if he never came down off the mountain.”

  Alastair enjoyed a long sip of his ale, then nodded. “Aye, ’tis true. Why do you think this place is packed on a Tuesday night?”

  She didn’t know what to make of that. Coincidence? “So, he suddenly decided to come down and play darts?”

  Alastair shrugged. “Apparently. But he might never again if Kat doesn’t play nice.” He sighed again, but Erin wasn’t paying attention.

  What were the chances Dylan had suddenly come to town the same day she’d shown up on his doorstep, talking about leasing his place? Had Brodie talked to him after all? She’d hoped to bend Brodie’s ear this evening, but with the crowd, she doubted she’d have the chance. Of course, with the Great Scot himself on the premises, she could just go directly to the source. First, she needed a plan. She pictured those enigmatic eyes of his, the set angle of his jaw as he’d turned her down flat and took another sip of ale. A little fortification couldn’t hurt, either.

  Another whoop went up and Alastair excused himself. “I suppose I should go make sure she doesn’t single-handedly destroy the goodwill we’ve spent the past year or two establishing with the poor lad. Bad enough Letty and her gaggle spend all their estimable free time planning his future, complete with new wife and, if they have their way, probably a half dozen wee Chisholms to boot. Let his brothers take on the task of creating heirs, I told them, be happy he’s back home. Do they listen to me?” He motioned Marta to top off his ale, then hefted the glass and squeezed past Erin. “Knowing Kat, we’ll be lucky if he’s no’ packed up and heading back to Edinburgh by morning.” He patted her shoulder. “Back in a blink.”

  Erin was still trying to absorb that latest tidbit of information. New wife? Meaning there had been an old one. She’d sort of suspected as much, given the meaningful looks shared between the locals when referring to Dylan, as if he’d come home under less than fortunate circumstances. She was still trying to figure out how to use that to her advantage when Brodie suddenly burst through the wall of people and bodily lifted her off the stool with a big hand on her arm.

  “There ye are!” he boomed, his jovial smile in place as always. “Come, lass, we need help settlin’ a sporting question and you’re the only one who’s qualified to judge.”

  Erin wasted a precious second or two juggling her glass of ale, trying not to dump it on herself or anyone else, and lost her window of opportunity to stop him. By the time she got her wits about her, she’d been tugged into the small, cleared area in the back of the pub where the dartboard was located. Think fast, think fast. She wasn’t prepared to see Dylan quite yet.

  And then there he was, large as life. Larger, really. Great Scot indeed. In a room filled with people, he dominated the space easily. Big and broad at the shoulder, with all that hair and hard jawline. But it was more than his physical presence that commanded attention, it was that ever present enigmatic demeanor of his, still every bit as tightly held, she noted, even though he was supposedly surrounded by family and friends.

  Or maybe he’d been smiling and relaxed until she’d been dragged into the picture. Hard to tell. But he didn’t seem thrilled to see her, that much was clear.

  Then Brodie was tugging her forward again and their locked gaze was abruptly disconnected as he turned her to face the dartboard. “Okay, here’s the thing. My wife’s dart.” He motioned to a gorgeous, antique, hand-carved wooden dart flocked with what appeared to be real feathers. “My brother’s dart.” He motioned to the other dart, also handsomely made, if not as spectacularly as the first, wedged into the very same hole. “What say you?”

  “I’m not sure I’m the one who should—”

  “Nay, you’re the only one in the room who can be impartial.”

  Erin noticed the room had fallen completely silent as everyone waited for her to make her pronouncement. She dared to scan the sea of faces crowding the dartboard area, but couldn’t read the lay of the land. She only had Alastair’s comment on the village wanting to court the goodwill of their apparently recalcitrant chief…and the knowledge that the other contestant was the wife of the man who owned the establishment. Lovely. The trick was going to be how not to piss off anyone and still have a chance in hell of getting what she wanted. What she had to have. And from the looks of things, she had about five seconds to figure it out.

  She chanced a quick glance at Alastair, hoping maybe he could signal her somehow, but he had his head bent toward a fresh-faced, younger woman dressed in dungarees and a pub T-shirt—Kat Chisholm, she could only presume—and didn’t see Erin’s silent plea for a rescue. She’d have to suck it up and go for it.

  Turning away from the crowd and very purposefully not looking at Dylan, she turned the brightest smile she could conjure at Brodie. “I don’t know the rules, but it looks like a tie to me. Can’t you have a do-over?”

  The crowd erupted in raucous cheering and debate and Erin wasn’t sure, but it appeared that by trying to be as fair and impartial as possible, she’d pissed everyone off. How had she so thoroughly lost control of her only mission? Then Brodie was stalking to the dartboard and plucking out the darts, proclaiming, “You heard the lass, we’ll have a ‘do-over’.”

  Then Kat was stepping forward and motioning to Erin. “Come here, then.”

  Erin had been thinking she’d slink back into the c
rowd and make a mad dash for the exit, but Kat was motioning her to come over to where she and Dylan stood, and before she could decide for herself, the crowd nudged her forward. “Yes?” she said, spying Dylan in her peripheral vision and deciding now was really not a good time for her nipples to go painfully hard, but there they were, right at attention. What was it about that man anyway?

  What wasn’t it about him? her little voice offered. He stood there scowling in his T-shirt and jeans, but he might as well have been wearing the plaid with a claymore strapped to his hip for all he exuded the whole rogue highlander thing. She really had to get a grip. She turned her head and focused exclusively on Kat, who, she belatedly noticed, hadn’t missed a thing in Erin’s momentary little distraction. Even scarier, she smiled. Broadly.

  “Okay, do-over it is,” she announced, quite jovially. She turned her laser beam smile on Erin. “But you’ll stay.” She nudged her a step or two closer to Dylan. “Right there.” She smiled very prettily up at Dylan, but only a fool would take that as a sign of friendship and goodwill. “You don’t mind, do ye now?”

  It was as if the entire room took a breath and held it. Only when Dylan nodded, once, did the tension ebb, if only for a moment. “Ladies first,” he announced.

  And just the sound of that voice sent a little tingle of awareness through Erin that only served to keep her body on point. Two of them, to be exact. She folded her arms across her chest, then realized she was still holding her ale. She impulsively chugged the rest of it and set the empty glass down on one of the tall tables lining the wall behind them. She tried to shrink back slightly, out of the center-of-attention spot, but Kat was having none of it.

  “It was all quite amusing when you thought to distract me with my charming husband here. Well, two can play at that. Erin, be a darling and stay directly in Dylan’s line of vision for me.”

  From the instant reaction of the crowd, it was easy to understand what kind of distraction they wanted her to provide. Completely nonplussed, Erin automatically pointed at herself. “Me?” Had they not actually looked at her? She was hardly eye candy material. Her gaze tracked to Dylan, completely without her authority, but he looked neither nonplussed nor repulsed. In fact, it was hard to tell what he was thinking. So what else was new?