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Chapter 14
After our crazy dance, we hit the bar. Finley ordered a beer. I asked for water with lime. I was hot and thirsty, and alcohol would only make it worse. Beverages in hand, we made our way to one of the large windows overlooking the street and the harbor. The breeze was perfect—not hot and muggy, not chilly either.
We stood in silence, content to watch the dancers and sip our drinks. I would give a lot to know what Finley was thinking. He was natural with me…comfortable, kind, and attentive. At times, I felt an almost tangible sexual pull between us. I knew how I reacted to Finley. Had I imagined his attraction to me?
Troubled by my thoughts, I didn’t even notice when the third of Finley’s candidates joined us. Finley’s voice jerked me out of my reverie.
“McKenzie, I’d like you to meet Allen Gordon.”
I turned with a forced smile and felt the breath catch in my throat. The man was taller than Finley, six four at least. He was lean and muscular, and he was wearing an old, clearly well-worn kilt and a white shirt with billowy sleeves. Nine out of ten men in the room wouldn’t be able to pull off that style without seeming pretentious. Allen, on the other hand, looked as if he had stepped straight from a movie set…but in a good way.
“Hello, Allen.” I stuck out my hand, shooting Finley an incredulous look. I thought Finley was interested in me. Why would he trot out this specimen of masculine perfection? Allen’s reddish-brown hair and brown eyes gave him a more than passing resemblance to my Outlander crush, Jamie.
My new friend seemed oblivious to any undercurrents. “Finley told me about ye, lass, though he didn’t say how beautiful you are. Reminds me of a young Grace Kelly…am I right, Finley?”
Finley nodded, his face curiously devoid of expression.
Allen took my arm. “This one’s a slow, lovely dance. Will ye have me as your partner, Miss McKenzie?”
“Of course.” I handed Finley my glass and allowed Allen to steer me out onto the dance floor. When he took both of my hands in his and smiled, I was disappointed. I didn’t feel a thing. How was that possible? The man was a gorgeous, redheaded hunk of Scottish beef. I should be dissolving in a puddle of drool about now.
Because this particular reel was slow and lazy, I had no trouble following the various circuits and steps. Allen tossed compliments at me, applauded my dancing and squeezed both of my hands when we were done. “Ye’re a lovely wee lass,” he said as he escorted me back to where my date stood by the window. “This one’s a keeper, Finley. Ye’d better lock her away somewhere before word gets out. Wouldn’t want anyone poaching on your preserves.”
The two men laughed. I wasn’t sure what was so funny. Was Allen making a veiled threat to pursue me? If so, I was flattered, but nothing beyond that. I was far more interested in Finley.
When Allen made his goodbyes and walked away, I turned to Finley, tugged at his shoulder, and whispered in his ear. “No more. I can’t take it. I’m an introvert by nature. Did you know that? Please don’t force me to make nice with anymore of your friends.”
Finley gazed across the crowded room, his expression pensive. “I thought that was the point of your trip. And of tonight, for that matter. Didn’t you come to Scotland to meet your own Jamie Fraser?”
“I suppose.” Hayley and Willow and I had certainly discussed the idea ad nauseam.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know. I thought it would happen more organically. Not like a set-up. And besides, you deliberately picked men you knew I wouldn’t go for. The overbearing genealogist? The moping widower? Tell me the truth, Finley. You did it on purpose. To make a point.”
He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “I fail to see how you could disapprove of Allen Gordon. I’ve seen photos of the actor who plays your Jamie Fraser fellow. Allen could be his brother.”
He had me there. It was impossible to miss the resemblance. Allen was enough to make any woman’s pulse flutter. “I’ll admit I found him extremely attractive, but there was no spark,” I said. “So give up. Please.”
Finley’s lips twitched, and his eyes danced. “Poor McKenzie. It wouldn’t have mattered if you had felt a spark.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
“Allen is gay.”
My mouth gaped. “Really?”
“Really.”
I gave him the evil eye. “You are a dirty, rotten scoundrel, Finley Craig. Why would you go out of your way to introduce me to three Scotsmen who were all wrong for me?”
I had my back to the wall. Literally. Finley stood with his back to the room, isolating me in the corner. He looked down at me with such intensity in his sapphire eyes that I actually felt faint. “Life isn’t a romance novel, McKenzie.” He growled the words between clenched teeth. “You’re an intelligent, adult woman. Someone needed to knock some sense into you before you get in over your head with a loser who has nothing more to offer than a birth certificate and a Scottish accent.”
I couldn’t decide if I wanted to smack him or kiss him. His furious lecture was patronizing and insulting. The fact that it was flavored with a faint rolling of the Rs only made his righteous indignation more aggravating. The man might not be Scottish by birth, but he sure as heck had made himself at home.
“My life, my romantic fantasy,” I snapped, trying not to notice the pulse at the base of his throat. His heart must be beating as fast as mine. “Tonight was an unnecessary charade. If you don’t want me to know your friends, I get it. Do me the favor of at least being honest.”
He bent his head and whispered, his breath warm on my cheek. “Maybe I wanted to show solidarity with all those American men you’re dismissing so easily in favor of Scottish chaps.” Then he found my lips with his. “Or maybe,” he muttered, “maybe I wanted to keep you for myself.”
