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Chapter Fifteen
Ian fought a losing battle. He had tried pretending Bella was nothing more than an old friend, perhaps a favored cousin. Nothing worked. All he could think about was getting her naked and into his bed.
Serving as tour guide at the castle had tested his patience. She was so damned passionate and adorable when she got excited about history. The more questions she asked, the more he tried to entertain her. And in between, he fought the urge to snatch her up and kiss her senseless.
There had even been a split second in the chapel when he flashed on an image of him sliding a ring on Bella’s finger. Holy hell. Where had that come from?
His torture had started with her skimpy running clothes at breakfast, escalated at the sight of her amazing body in the simple black dress, and reached full tilt while escorting her around the romantic castle.
He needed a break. He needed to clear his head. He needed to get away from her. ASAP.
“Shall I call a cab?” he asked, his voice hoarse and raspy.
Bella beamed. “Oh, no. Let’s walk again. I love this city.”
The torture continued.
As they made their way down the Royal Mile, Bella was drawn to one after another of the charming shops along the way. She bought gifts for Finley and McKenzie and a couple of smaller remembrances for girlfriends back in North Carolina. But soon, she stopped abruptly in front of a bay window with an elaborate collection of jewelry on display.
The placard, lettered in calligraphy, “Pieces Inspired by the Outlander Series.”
“We can go inside, if you want to,” he said, resigning himself to another half hour of cooling his heels.
Bella shook her head wistfully. “No. I hardly ever go anywhere I’d wear something that fancy.”
“What’s with all the amber?” he asked.
She looked at him as if his IQ was in question. “The second book is called Dragonfly in Amber. I thought everybody in Scotland knew that.”
He held up his hands. “Sorry. A bit outside my scope. I’m more of a Grisham fan. Or Stephen King.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
He grinned inwardly. She was miffed and insulted. The truth was, he was trying to get a rise out of her. He had read the first three Outlander books a year ago on the recommendation of a friend and found them fascinating. Not entirely his cup of tea, but impressive nevertheless. As a Scotsman, he’d been drawn in by the story and curious to see where the author would go next.
He tapped her arm. “If you’re not going inside, can we please go back to the hotel? I’d like to take a shower, and I need to check in with a couple of my colleagues.”
“Fine. Let’s go. The jewelry is probably too expensive anyway.”
* * *
Fortunately for his plans later in the evening, Bella loved the restaurant he had chosen. It was small and intimate with white linen tablecloths and tiny crystal vases filled with purple heather. They both chose the beef bourguignon, on the recommendation of the waiter, and were not disappointed.
The place was packed even on a weeknight, a sure testament to good food. Ian loved his homeland, but he had no illusions about Scottish cuisine. The way to a woman’s heart was a classic Parisian meal topped off with fresh strawberry tarts covered in Chantilly cream.
After her second glass of wine, Bella switched to coffee. “I’m stuffed from dinner, and my head is spinning already.”
He grinned lazily. “Maybe I could make your head spin.”
“Stop that,” Bella said. She looked sleepy and sated. Warm and happy, too.
“Stop what?”
“You know,” she said. “Flirting. I told you. We’re just friends.”
“Ah. So you say.”
“Bite me.”
