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Chapter Ten
Ian stumbled into the house and wiped his face with his hands. His body ached. He had scrapes and scratches. Worst of all, he was embarrassed. He’d left Bella to handle the mess outside. What kind of man did that?
Hilda jumped up from the sofa. Her small son lay with his head resting in his father’s lap. The man stroked the child’s forehead. The doctor talked to the boy in a soft voice. Hilda flung her arms around Ian and hugged him until his ribs threatened to crack. “Thank you, thank you, Mr. Larrimore. My son nearly died. I’m forever in yer debt.”
“How did you know my name?”
The ghost of a grin painted Hilda’s face despite her emotional trauma. “Bella refused to confirm yer presence, but Portree’s a small town. Word gets around. I don’t know how we’ll ever repay you for savin’ our boy.”
“Anybody could have found him,” Ian said, shifting from one foot to the other. “I’m honored I could help.”
She squeezed hard and released him at last, allowing him to breathe. “I know ye must be jiggered after what ye did. Took a lot of brute strength. Go on now and get some rest.”
Ian knew he should wait for Bella, but he was raw and wavering on the edge of an explosion. He’d come to Finley’s house in the back of beyond to hide out. Now, not only was his cover blown, but he’d unwittingly become embroiled in a town drama.
He loped up the stairs to his room and stared blankly at the space that had seemed a refuge. Or maybe it was a prison. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he wanted to get away from here.
It was the same feeling he’d had in London, only worse. Bella must think him the most awkward fool. A grown man who couldn’t answer a simple question on camera without stammering.
Pacing the confines of the small room, he was completely unable to calm himself. His agitation grew worse and worse until at last, he cursed and punched the wall as hard as he could.
The outburst produced a variety of outcomes. Tiny flecks of dust littered the floor, but the plaster got the best end of the deal. Ian’s knuckles split and bled. Pain shot up his arm and lingered to throb along every nerve from his fingers to his shoulder.
His humiliation was complete when he turned and found Bella standing in the open doorway, eyes round, expression aghast. “Ian,” she cried. “What did you do to yourself?”
He put his hand behind his back, feeling slightly ill. “Nothing. Will you go now, please?”
She ignored his belligerence and came to him, taking his injured hand in both of hers and examining it carefully. “Oh, Ian. What a mess you’ve made.” Her concern and gentle care should have made him feel better. Instead, he wanted to howl his frustration.
Bella was right. It was true. Not only had he showed rank cowardice in fleeing London, he had done something even worse. He had let a curvy, opinionated woman with big blue eyes and masses of raven-wing hair worm her way into his heart.
And to what end?
“Leave me alone,” he muttered. “I’m fine.”
“I’m so sorry, Ian.”
Her sympathy felt like alcohol poured on a raw wound. She wasn’t talking about his bloodied hand. Bella had witnessed him revert to a stuttering school boy when pinned down by the dogged little reporter.
He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. He didn’t want her kindness or her understanding. Harsh-toned words blurted from his lips unfiltered. “I’m going home,” he said. “Tonight. I’ll drive to Inverness and catch the early train in the morning.”
Bella froze. Her face paled, and her eyes sheened with tears. “Why, Ian? What’s the point? They got what they came for. They’ll leave you alone now. Don’t go…please.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and set her aside, trying not to notice how small and fragile she felt. “I have work to do.”
“What about us?”
Her question stopped him dead in his tracks. His jaw worked. “There isn’t really any us,” he said flatly. “We flirted with the concept, but we never made it to the prototype. I’ve interfered with your time in Scotland. Let’s reset the clock. It’s the wisest thing to do.”
Bella practically went up in smoke. She glared at him. “Heaven forbid that the mighty Ian Larrimore should ever do anything unwise. You’re a horse’s ass. You stuttered a bit. So what? I was the only one who realized. Everyone else thought you were feeling torn up about what happened.”
“You don’t understand.” He pulled his suitcase out from under the bed and began tossing things in haphazardly.
Bella thumped his back with her fist. “I understand more than you think. You’ve spent your whole life believing you’re a superior intellect. Turns out, you’re just as clueless as the next guy. It’s okay not to be perfect. I like you the way you are.”
He whirled to face her, tormented. “I don’t give a damn if you like me,” he shouted.
She gaped at him, her beautiful, soft pink lips forming a perfect O. A single tear rolled down her cheek, driving the final nail in his coffin. “Okay, then,” she whispered, her gaze tragic. “I’d rather have the whole house to myself anyway,” she said. “Good-bye, Ian.”
