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Her eyes sought out the half-finished painting of Fiona, but she couldn’t see it, which confused her further. It was always here. She’d come to think of it as Duncan’s anchor to the past.
When hands landed on her shoulders, she jumped, and her eyes flew to his.
He saw her startle and removed his touch. “Damn it. I’m screwing up again.”
“You aren’t making any sense.”
It almost seemed like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Eventually, he settled on thrusting them into the pockets of his jeans. His gaze was intense.
“I’ve been reading up on the ‘me too’ movement,” he said at last.
“Okaaay.” Donna was still lost, but now there was a flicker of hope that him freaking out wasn’t about his love for Fiona or any deep regret over touching her.
“There’s a power difference.” He brought out a hand and gestured from her to him. “Between us. I’m your boss, and I own your home. And you’re Donna.” He ran his hand through his hair.
At last, the daze began to clear. “I swear, if you don’t get to the point soon, I’m going to stab you in the ear with a paintbrush.”
His eyes widened. “That’s very graphic.” A smile tugged at his lips. “I kind of like it.” He shook his head and became serious again. “I’m your boss.”
He said it like it was a revelation. “You have been for the past two years.”
“And you’re Donna.”
“I have been for the past twenty-eight years. Honestly, Duncan, did you fall and hit your head? Do I need to call a doctor?”
“What? No! I’m just better at painting than I am at talking about personal stuff. The thing is. You aren’t good at saying no to people.” He raised an eyebrow in challenge, as though she was going to deny what the whole of Scotland already knew. He nodded when she didn’t reply. “Well then, what are the chances you would have said no to me kissing you if you didn’t want to?”
“Oh.”
“Exactly,” he said when she didn’t say anything more. “I called you in here to ask you out to dinner, but you wouldn’t say no to that either, would you?”
His words shocked her so much that she almost fell off the stool. “You were going to ask me out to dinner, and you wanted me to say no?”
He looked at her like she was the slow one, when he was practically talking another language. “No, I don’t want you to say no. I want you to say yes. But I want you to do it because you want to, not because I’m your boss and you feel you have to. I didn’t think this through properly. I don’t want you feeling obligated. Or threatened.” He eyed her carefully. “Do you feel threatened?”
“Mainly I feel confused.”
“Good.” He patted her cheek and then pulle
d his hand back as though the touch had burned him. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure this out. I need to call my lawyer.”
He turned and strode to the door. When he threw it open, he found her sisters standing on the other side of it. They jumped back, and it was clear they’d been listening in. The finks.
“Don’t go near the ballroom,” Agnes said. “The guy who’s varnishing the floor is here. In fact, it would be best if you avoided that side of the house altogether. I hear the fumes are deadly.”
Mairi looked behind him and grinned wickedly at Donna before giving Duncan an innocent smile that meant she was up to no good. “Did you kiss my sister? Is that a new part of her job description? Making out with the boss?”
“See?” Duncan shouted at Donna while he pointed at Mairi. “That’s what I’m talking about. I need to sort this out.” And he stormed past the women. “I’ll be in my office,” he called over his shoulder.
Donna was left staring after him, and then she caught sight of her sisters. Mairi was grinning wickedly, and Agnes had a look of disapproval on her face.
“Don’t ask me what just happened.” Donna held up her hands. “I have no idea.”
“Oh, by the looks of it, and from the stuff we heard through the door,” Mairi said as she came into the room, “kissing happened.”
“What were you thinking, kissing your boss?” Agnes demanded.
There was no reply Donna could give that justified her actions. When he’d asked if he could kiss her, she’d wanted nothing more than to feel his lips against hers. She’d wanted, if only for one minute, to feel a little of the devotion he’d felt for Fiona—so she’d stolen a crumb of it, with a kiss. That’s how pathetic she was, she’d stolen a kiss meant for a dead woman.
