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4
CAIN DAVOT’S GOURMET RESTAURANT HAD A relaxed ambience and although it was a Monday evening, nearly half of the tables were occupied when Zoë arrived. She was glad she’d put on a classy dress, because it was an up-market kind of a place.
The Tide Inn. She turned the name around her mind while she enjoyed her meal. As well as the tides of the sea, and a reference to belonging to a place, it made her think of sex and bondage. Perhaps that was the intention. Or maybe there was something about Carbrey, she mused. She hadn’t been able to get sex off her mind since she got here.
The food and wine were good, and she felt much more together after eating. Being around people helped, although she kept wondering what sexual position they favored, and made guesses at it to keep herself entertained. Later on, a tall man in a suit and open-necked shirt moved amongst the diners, pausing to chat, shaking hands with the men, kissing the women. Cain Davot, had to be.
Hooded blue eyes and the kind of looks that hinted at a rogue gypsy heritage made him an attractive, self-assured individual. She could see how he’d got his own TV show. He oozed charisma, the sort of man who knew he could have any woman he wanted. Pausing to run his hand through his thick dark hair, pushing it back over his head, he glanced her way, and gave her a nod and a smile.
She returned the smile and sipped her wine, watching him some more. He looked as if he liked having sex every which way, she thought, picturing him naked, a woman riding his pole-like cock while he reclined on a sofa.
As he mingled, he seemed to be aware of everyone in the room. Zoë knew he would get to her eventually. She was looking forward to it. It would be something to tell Gina. Gina watched all the cooking shows on TV and would enjoy hearing about him.
When he finally came over it was at the point when the staff were lowering the lights and the other occupants were leaving. She’d also been about to pay and leave, having finished up a delectable dessert of toasted pineapple slivers served with rum-laced ice cream. She had her purse out on the table and was busy looking for her credit card.
“Welcome to Carbrey.” He held two brandy glasses in one hand. The other carried an antique-looking bottle with a wax seal running the length of its neck.
She abandoned her purse and smiled. “Thank you. You are the owner, I presume?”
“I am indeed. Cain Davot.” He set the glasses and the bottle on the table, and then took her hand, brushing his lips over the back of it, making the surface of her skin prickle. With one finger, he tickled her palm from beneath.
Automatically, she smiled.
He slid into the seat opposite her as he continued to speak. “And you are the current resident at Her Haven.”
“News travels fast. Yes, I am. Zoë Daniels.”
“It’s a small village, and Elspeth is a friend of mine.”
She nodded. Immediately, the image she’d had of the woman riding him became that of the postmistress, and she was going at it like the jockey who was about to pass the post and win the Derby. Zoë blinked, and then laced her fingers together, trying to push thoughts of sex out of her head. Not only were they constant, they were becoming increasingly naughty.
He sloshed a generous serving of brandy into each of the glasses and placed one closer to her.
“Thank you.” The aroma of the brandy reached her, heady and delicious. The writing on the label looked French. “Elspeth mentioned that the house has been in her family for generations,” she added, making conversation.
Cain picked up his glass, his eyelids lowering as he inhaled the scent of the brandy. “Some three hundred years, and it’s said to harbor the ghosts of previous occupants, if you believe in such things.” His focus sharpened as he waited for her reaction.
It seemed necessary to respond. “What previous occupants?”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re a believer?”
“No. Just interested in history.” She lifted the brandy glass, taking a sip. It was potent stuff, an
d she savored the heat of it in her mouth before swallowing.
“Ah. Well, it has plenty of that, as does the whole region.” His attention was on her throat; as if he was observing the way she drank the brandy. “It’s a magical part of Scotland,” he continued. “Tell me, do you believe in magic?”
“No,” she responded, with a soft laugh. Questions instantly arose in her mind, questions about everything she had experienced since she got here, but she pushed them away. She’d been tired, that was all. Her imagination had run away with her, had to be.
He seemed pleased with that, his smile growing. “A blank slate, my favorite kind.”
Zoë put down her glass. His remark was rather condescending, but there was something else about it, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was smug. She gave him a chastising glance.
Cain responded with a soft laugh and opened his hands. “I meant in respect of Carbrey and all it has to offer. Forgive me. I enjoy introducing newcomers to the area, that’s all.”
“I see.” Something about him made her wary, even if she was picturing him having sex with her, right at that moment. “Are you local?”
“Yes and no. My family line is from this area, but I moved away. I studied with restaurateurs all over the world and I lost contact with the place for a long while.” He became thoughtful. “Then one day I had a yen to come home.” He shrugged.
