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Chapter 5
I found it difficult to read Finley’s emotions. Particularly when he was the one holding the flashlight. I frowned. “Have you changed your mind already?” He’d been silent for a good thirty seconds.
“Not at all. I was merely pausing to admire the fact that you aren’t having hysterics about this crimp in your vacation.”
I fought the urge to smack him. With my luck, I’d probably miss and throw out my shoulder. “First of all, this isn’t a traditional vacation so much as it is a change of venue for me. I want to feel at home here…as if I belong. When I travel, I enjoy immersing myself in the local culture.”
“I see.”
“Second of all…” I took a deep breath, perilously close to doing exactly what he said. A nice, big hissy fit would feel good right about now. Nevertheless, I held onto my composure. “Your lame compliment is demeaning to me and to women in general. Most of us are quite capable of dealing with unforeseen circumstances. Women are neither weak nor helpless. I’m grateful for your help, yes. Still, in a pinch, I could have managed fine on my own.”
Oh, wow, McKenzie. Why not tell another big whopper and get struck down by lightning?
“Duly noted, Duchess.” Fortunately, he didn’t call me on my B.S., though the dry note in his voice told me he saw through my bravado.
Without further ado, he scooted me out the door and locked it. Then he handed me the key. It was warm from his hand. I wrapped my fingers around it, clutching the bit of metal until the edges dug into my palm.
Earlier, when we arrived at the cottage, Finley had hooked his helmet around one handlebar of the bike. Now he picked it up and handed it to me. “Put this on.”
“It will give me hat hair,” I protested.
“Better than smashed skull hair.”
I sensed that he wouldn’t be moved on this issue. Reluctantly, I eased the helmet over my head. It felt claustrophobic. I tucked the strands of my platinum blond, shoulder-length bob inside. In a few years, I would probably need help from a bottle. For now, the color was all mine.
“Satisfied?” I asked.
“That remains to be seen, Duchess.”
Whoa. Even in the dark, I couldn’t miss the innuendo. I had a feeling the man didn’t even like me. Suddenly, sexual tension swirled in the misty air around us. “I have a name,” I said. “McKenzie Taylor.”
He shrugged. “I like Duchess better. It suits you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
He held out his hand. “Give me your purse,” he said. “It’s too far back to town for you to hold it.”
Before I could protest, he lifted the tote over my head, secured the zipper, and wadded it up to fit beneath the bungee cords he had used to tether my carry-on. Though I winced at his careless handling of my big turquoise bag, he was right. It was miles back to town, and I would have been very uncomfortable.
“What about you?” I protested. “You don’t have a helmet. I don’t want to be responsible for you if we crash.”
His quick grin was a flash of white in the gloom. “I’m hardheaded as they come,” he said. “Ask anyone.” He mounted the bike and held out a hand to steady me as I performed the same maneuver.
Instinctively, I slid my arms around his taut waist and nestled as close as I could. The provocative position gave me all sorts of ideas. I’d never been on a “hog” before.
When the engine roared to life, I jumped and nearly fell off. Finley tried to turn his laugh into a cough. I wasn’t fooled. My cheeks flaming, I settled into my assigned spot, glad he couldn’t actually see me.
What was he thinking as we made our way back down the drive? A man with his looks probably spent many a day or night riding the roads with an available woman at his back. Maybe he barely even noticed me clinging to him like a limpet.
Once we turned out onto the main road where the pavement was reliable, I relaxed a bit. Finley was not a novice. Unlike me, he was extremely comfortable on his bike. He wasn’t going to dump us in a ditch.
It was impossible to talk as we sped along. That was fine by me. I had a lot to think about. I’d fantasized about this Scotland trip so many times that Willow was probably right. I’d set myself up for disappointment.
On the other hand, I had already been rescued by a handsome Scotsman, so maybe my fantasy life and my love life were finally going to align, along with the stars. Now if only I could find someone a bit less grumpy and a bit more polished. Frankly, I’d never been drawn to the bad-boy type, though I could try to make an exception in Finley’s case.
To be fair, I shouldn’t peg the man without giving him a chance. He might be an architect or a banker. I snickered, my cheek mashed against the warm leather on his back. Not likely. He exuded a raw sex appeal more suited to rock ’n’ roll or dark poetry or maybe even larceny.
Two hundred years ago these islands had sheltered many a smuggler, some benign…others more vicious. Even now in the twenty-first century, bad men still walked among us. Still, my gut told me Finley Craig was a stand-up kind of guy. I had to believe that, or why else was I blithely letting him take me back to his lair?
