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“What do ye ken ye’re doing?!” Marcus growled. “Dinnae I tell ye no’ tae open this door? Get inside, Lass, before someone sees ye!”
Tait backed up, not as much from his tone or demands as her own shock and disbelief.
Marcus entered with a foam-cup of coffee in each hand, kicked the door shut behind him and held out a cup. “Cream and sugar, as ye requested.”
Incredulous, Tait stared at him, unsure if she should be angry, relieved, or grateful. If she were honest, her gut roiled with all three, making her regret the apple. Finally, she reached out and took the proffered cup. It was steaming hot. Obviously, freshly poured.
So where had he been all this time? She sipped the scalding liquid for lack of something else to say or do, wondering if she even had a right to wonder or question him.
“We should hurry, lass. ’Tis gettin’ late.” He set his own cup aside and gathered his longshirt, t-shirt, and tartan before turning to her. “Do ye have everything?”
Really?Hewas chidingherabout time? She looked down at the clothes she was wearing, including the distasteful sweatshirt from yesterday, and raised a brow. “This is it.”
His eyes widened. “Och! I forgot.” Setting her cup beside his, he reached behind him, tugged on something dangling from his back pocket and handed it to her. “They had some of these for sale in the office when I got the coffee. I couldnae carry it and both coffees, so I had tae tuck the end o’ it in my pocket,” he mumbled as she took it from him. “I hope I dinnae wrinkle it overmuch.”
Tait shook out the folded gray fabric, exposing a T-shirt with the wordsONE HORSE MOTELemblazoned in navy across the front and West Yellowstone, Montana, in small letters just beneath. She smiled up at Marcus, both touched and grateful. “Thank you! It’s perfect.”
“I dinnae ken what size ye needed, but yesterday when ye were…uh…in my arms, yefeltlike that size might work?”
If she didn’t know better, she’d think that pink tinge on his neck was embarrassment. The last thing she’d have attributed to Marcus—especially after the way he’d kissed her yesterday— was shyness. Surprisingly, she found the contrast rather charming. And very intriguing. Was that a glimpse of it last night? Or just good old-fashioned gentlemanly behavior? A rarity as well.
Swallowing her regret that she wouldn’t know Marcus long enough to unravel the puzzle, she held up the T-shirt. “I can’t tell you how happy this makes me!” She yanked the sweatshirt over her head as she turned her back to him to remove her camisole, as well. “Best giftever!” she sighed, pulling on the T-shirt before turning back to him. “It was both kind and generous of you.”
“I ken when we get someplace a wee bit safer, we should do something about extra clothes for both o’ us. For now, I’ll take those ye just removed, if ye’ll grab the coffee.” He started to turn and stopped. “Och! The fridge,” he uttered, tucking their clothes under his arm. “I’ll get the coffee if ye’ll collect the food we bought yesterday. There’s a place in the…” His brow furrowed above his frown. “What the devil did the man call it? Oh, aye! TheCamper Van,” he declared with obvious satisfaction.
“Camper Van?” she repeated, remembering the van outside their room, blocking her view.“You rented a Camper Van?”she asked incredulously. “Marcus, if they find out who you are, they can trace that. And us.” She tried to temper her anxiety. He was, after all, from another country. Maybe things didn’t work the same way in Scotland. But…it was a risk they couldn’t afford to take.
“Of course, no’!” he stated.
“Thank goodness,” she sighed. But then why did he have it? She studied him. Surely, he wouldn’t have stolen a van. They were already in enough trouble.
“I bought it,” he said proudly.
She dropped onto the edge of the bed feeling gut-punched. “Youboughta van?”
“Aye. ’Tisnae new, but still verra nice. I ken ’twill meet our needs well enough, for now.”
Her heart sank. “You filled out papers. Gave them your identification. Signed your name. What else did they ask for? Current address? Contact information? Birthdate? Dental records? Tattoos?” She caught herself, instantly regretting her outburst. He didn’t deserve her sarcasm, even if it was completely fear-based. “I’m sorry, Marcus. That was unfair. But I don’t think you understand how deeply some of the…corruption, can go. Or how far-reaching their resources are. They can trace even the smallest details.”
“Dinnae fash, lass,” he replied with more patience than she deserved. “ ’Twasnae like that. He was parked on the street across from the motel with a for-sale sign in the window o’ the van. So, he wasnearthe car show but no’ part o’ it. ’Twas a simple private sale. He wanted tae sell. I wanted tae buy. I gave him cash. He gave me a bill o’ sale and a signed title.”
Tait looked at Marcus in wonder. Would the man never stop surprising her? “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. It’s just that….to say you continually astonish me is an understatement.”
His grin lit up his face, deepening those intriguing dimples. “No strings, and naught that is traceable beyond my description. Though, I cannae ken those two chasing ye would ever have reason tae know of or talk tae the man who sold the van tae me.”
“You’re right,” she said, grinning back at him. “Actually, you’re brilliant!” She jumped up to kiss his cheek.
“Aye,” he winked and laughed. “ ’Tis fine that ye think so. But in truth, ’twas naught but a pure stroke o’ luck. Though I’m no’ above takin’ the credit if ’twill earn me a kiss.”
“Okay.” Laughing, she kissed his other cheek. “I’d say you’ve earned two.”
He raised an eyebrow, letting that slow, almost teasing, far too sexy smile spread across his face.
“Or…three?” She breathed, wondering if he was thinking about yesterday’s kisses, as well.
“Well, buying the van did take a good deal o’ bartering.” His gaze caressed her face. “And three is my lucky number.”
“I suppose we need all the luck we can get,” she whispered as he tossed the bundle of clothes on the bed and stepped closer.
