Her Highland Boss: The Earl's Convenient Wife / In the Boss's Castle / Her Hot Highland Doc

‘I can’t see you killing otters.’

‘Is that why you took me to look at the puffins first?’ she asked. ‘To see how I reacted?’

‘I was hardly expecting a gun.’

‘I’d guess you weren’t expecting a gun from Alan, either.’ She sighed and took a deep breath—and it wasn’t only because she needed a few deep breaths before tackling the rise in front of her. ‘Okay, I understand. Alasdair, we don’t need to go there any more. I’ll stop judging you for not spending more time with your grandmother if you stop judging me for being married to Alan. I know I’m still...tainted...but we can work around that. Deal?’

He looked at her for a long moment, seeming to take in every inch of her. And then, slowly, his face creased into a smile.

It was an awesome smile, Jeanie thought. It was dark turning to light. It lit his whole face, made his dark eyes glint with laughter, made him seem softer, more vulnerable...

A warrior exposed?

That shouldn’t be how she saw him, but suddenly it was. He was the Earl of Duncairn, and he wore armour, just as surely as his ancestors wore chain mail. His armour might be invisible but it was still there.

Telling her about the otters, telling her about Alan, had made a chink in that armour, she thought, and even though he was smiling she could see the hint of uncertainty. As if telling her had left him vulnerable and he didn’t like it.

She had a sudden vision of him as a child, here in this castle. It was wild now; it would have been wilder then. Eileen had told her she’d brought both boys here during their school holidays. Jeanie had envisaged two boys with a whole estate to explore and love.

But later Eileen had said she’d often had to leave the boys with the housekeeper when she’d had to go back to Edinburgh, and Jeanie saw that clearly now, too. A twelve-year-old boy would have been subjected to the whims and cruelty of his older cousin. It wouldn’t just have been the otters, she thought grimly. She knew Alan. There would have been countless cruelties during the years.

‘This next bit’s rough,’ Alasdair was saying and he held his hand out. ‘Let me help you.’

She looked down at his hand.

He was a McBride. He was yet another man who’d caught her at a weak moment and married her.

But the day was magic, the hill in front was tough and Alasdair was right beside her, smiling, holding out his hand.

‘If I had one more brain cell, it’d be lonely,’ she muttered out loud, to no one in particular, but Alasdair just raised his brows and kept on smiling and the sun was warm on her face and the otters were waiting, and a woman was only human after all.

She put her hand in his and she started forward again.

With Alasdair.

* * *

What followed was another magic day. Duncairn’s weather was unpredictable to say the least, but today the gods had decided to be kind—more, they’d decided to put on Scotland at her most splendid. There was just enough wind to keep the midges at bay. The sky was dotted by clouds that might or might not turn to rain, but for now the sun shone, and the water in the burn was crystal clear.

Without hesitation Alasdair led them to a ledge near the cottage, a rocky outcrop covered with a thick layer of moss. It stretched out over the burn, but a mere ten feet above, so they could lie on their stomachs and peer over the edge to see what was happening in the water below.

And for a while nothing happened. Maybe it wouldn’t, Alasdair conceded. Otters were notoriously shy. They could well have sensed their movement and darted back under cover, but for now they were content to wait.

Alasdair was more than content.

It was a strange feeling, lying on the moss-covered rock with Jeanie stretched out by his side.

His life was city-based now, mostly spent in Edinburgh but sometimes London, New York, Copenhagen, wherever the demands of his company took him. Under the terms of Eileen’s will he’d need to delegate much of that travel for the next year. He’d thought he’d miss it, but lying next to Jeanie, waiting for otters to grace them with their presence, he thought suddenly, Maybe I won’t.

What other woman had he ever met who’d lie on her stomach on a rock and not move, not say a word, and somehow exude a quality of complete restfulness? After half an hour the otters still hadn’t shown themselves. He knew from past experience that half an hour wasn’t long for these shy creatures to stay hidden, but did Jeanie know that? If she did, she didn’t mind. She lay with her chin resting on her hands, watching the water below, but her eyes were half-closed, almost contemplative.

Her hair was tumbling down around her face. A curl was blocking his view. He wanted to lift it away.

She’d been Alan’s wife.

Surely it didn’t matter. He wanted to touch...

But if he moved he’d scare the otters, and he knew...he just knew that this woman would be furious with him—not just for touching her but for spoiling what she was waiting for.

She was waiting for otters, not for him.

Right. Watch on. He managed to turn his attention back to the water rippling beneath them.

‘There...’ It was hardly a whisper. Jeanie was looking left to where a lower overhang shaded the water, and there it was, a sleek, beautiful otter slipping from the shadows, with a younger one behind.

‘Oh,’ Jeanie breathed. ‘Oh...’

She was completely unaware of him. All her attention was on the otters.

They were worth watching. They were right out from under the shadows now, slipping over the burn’s rocky bed, nosing through the sea grasses and kelp, hunting for the tiny sea creatures that lived there.

‘They eat the kelp, too,’ Jeanie whispered but Alasdair thought she was talking to herself, not to him.

‘They’re stunning,’ he whispered back. ‘Did you know their coat’s so thick not a single drop of water touches their skin?’

‘That’s why they’re hunted,’ she whispered back. ‘You will...keep protecting them? After I’ve left?’

And there it was again—reality, rearing its ugly head. At the end of this year, this castle would go to Jeanie’s creditors. He’d buy it and keep it—of course he would. He’d keep it safe. But he glanced at Jeanie and saw her expression and he thought, She’s not sure.

He’d promised—but this woman must have been given empty promises in the past.

She was resting her chin on her hands and he could see the gold band he’d placed on her finger two days ago. For a year they were required to be officially married, and officially married people wore rings.

But now... What worth was a promise? Jeanie didn’t trust him and why should she?

He glanced down at the otters, hunting now in earnest, despite the humans close by. They must sense their shadows, but they’d waited for almost an hour before resuming hunting. They’d be hungry. They’d be forced to trust.

As Jeanie had been forced to trust. She’d been put into an impossible situation. How to tell her...?

The ring...

* * *

One moment she was lying watching otters, worrying about their future, thinking would Alasdair really keep this estate? Would he keep caring for these wild creatures she’d come to love?

The next moment he’d rolled back a little and was tugging at his hand. Not his left hand, though, where she’d placed the wedding ring that meant so little. Instead he was tugging at his right hand.

At the Duncairn ring.