Scotland or Bust Page 4

  She shook her head. “Nope. You’re my boss. I’m assuming you’re planning on working my ass off, which means I’ll be earning everything you’re giving me. If we were hooking up, then I’d be right back where I always am, being taken care of by some man. I’m never going to mix romance and survival again.”

  Before he could respond to that interesting bit of overshare, Austin, the family butler, stumbled into the kitchen, straightening his disheveled suit and breathing as if he’d run a marathon. Nikki started to rise to help him, probably to make sure he wasn’t about to pass out, but he waved her off. His gray hair stuck out oddly in a few places, and his tall, lanky frame was slightly hunched in the shoulders. His face had an odd, almost purple hue that obviously alarmed her.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  He gave her a little bow. “Perfectly, miss. Thank you. My apologies, sir,” he said, turning to Harrison. “I’d meant to be on the steps to greet you. I’m afraid I was…detained.”

  “It’s quite all right, Austin. I assume my grandmother is settled.”

  “Yes, sir. At least I believe so.”

  Harrison nodded with sympathetic understanding. “Austin, this is my new assistant, Miss Nicole Franklin. Can you have her things brought to her room?”

  “Of course, sir,” he said, without even questioning the change in assistants. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir? Miss? More food, perhaps?”

  “No, thank you, Austin. I’ve got it covered in here.”

  “Very good, sir. I’ll see to your belongings.”

  He shuffled back out with a great deal more dignity than he’d entered. His color had improved at least.

  “That was your butler?”

  Harrison nodded and took a bite of chicken. “He’s been with the family since before I was born.”

  “Wow. How old is he?”

  Harrison frowned a little. “I’m not exactly sure. I should find out.”

  “Might be a good idea. He’s looking a little…long in the tooth, I believe the saying is.”

  Harrison chuckled. “Austin has looked like that since I was little.”

  “Surely he’s reached retirement age by now.”

  “I brought it up once. He said he’d rather keep his post than sit around doing nothing all day. So we’ve kept him on. And to be honest, I can’t imagine this place without Austin. Besides, he’s lived here longer than I have. This is his home.”

  “He sounds wonderful.”

  “He is,” he said.

  She gave him the same smile his mom gave him when she thought he was doing something particularly cute or sweet. He tried to erase whatever expression had put that smile on her lips by downing the rest of the wine in his glass.

  She sipped her own wine and then nodded at him. “You know, I wasn’t sure how this day would start out. I’m glad it ended well and that you had a pretty good day yourself.”

  “I did?”

  “Um, yeah. You conquered your fear of flying, for one.”

  He scowled. “I’m not afraid.”

  Her eyebrow cocked. They both knew he was full of it, but he didn’t bother arguing the point.

  “And you picked up a fabulous new assistant to boot,” she said. “I hate to toot my own horn, but I’m kind of awesome.”

  He laughed at that. “That remains to be seen.”

  “Ouch.”

  He lifted a leg of chicken to her in salute. She shook her head, her lips twisted in a wry smile. Then she looked at him more intently, her brow drawn.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I’m trying to figure you out.”

  He frowned. “Meaning?”

  “Are you the stuffy Brit who has been giving me a hard time all day, or the marginally congenial gent who is treating me to cold chicken and an excellent bottle of wine?”

  “I have to feed you. You’re little good to me if you starve to death.”

  “This is true,” she said, picking another bite of chicken up with her fingers and popping it in her mouth. “But you didn’t answer the question.”

  That’s because he didn’t like the question. “Who’s to say I’m not both? Though I take exception to the stuffy Brit part. And the marginally congenial part. Go back to calling me handsome.”

  She laughed at that. “I think you’re drunk.”

  “God, I hope so.”

  He looked down to see that they’d polished off most of the wine and his head had finally taken on that pleasant fuzzy feeling he’d been needing.

  “So you want to tell me why your granny was flashing the neighborhood?”

  He took another bite, shuddering at the thought of having neighbors. It was bad enough with the villagers down the road. If he’d had actual people in spitting distance, he’d probably be spending most of his days settling lawsuits.

  Nikki still stared at him, and he sighed.

  “My grandmother is a bit eccentric.”

  She smiled. “I gathered that.”

  “But she’s harmless. Mostly.”

  “Mostly?”

  He shrugged and took another mouthful of wine, straight from the bottle, reaching across to pour the last bit into her glass.

  “If you’re trying to get me drunk, I think you’re a bit late.”

  He grinned. “I already told you I’m not, but it would be a shame to waste it. And you’ll need it for when you meet the rest of the family.”

  She cocked her head in an excellent impression of a curious puppy. “Do you find it fun to unsettle people like that?”

  That startled him for a second. Did he? “How did I unsettle you?”

  “Telling a newcomer who wants to make a good impression that they might need to be drunk to meet the rest of the group is unsettling.”

  “Noted. My apologies.” He squinted a little at his empty cup. “I don’t have many friends.”

  Her eyebrows rose, and he waved off the confused look. “I just mean to say that I may be a little rusty with the whole being around people thing. Aside from my employees and colleagues, there are really only the guys from my poker club. And they are used to me giving them a hard time.”

  “I’ll make a note in your schedule to work on that.”

  He chuckled. “Okay, I think we should probably turn in. While we can still make it upstairs.”

  She laughed again. “Good call. The world is starting to get a bit on the wobbly side.”

  He quickly cleaned up the mess they’d made and led her to the door of the kitchen. He held it open while she walked through, placing his hand on the small of her back. She looked up at him, eyes slightly wider, but with no objections to his touch. He barely resisted the urge to run his hand up her back. That would be grossly inappropriate, but the temptation was almost more than he could overcome. It had to be the wine. He was not the type to flirt, or do anything else, with his assistants. Then again, she wasn’t a usual assistant.

  He walked her to her room and stood outside while she went in. “Is there anything else that you need for tonight?” he asked, strangely reluctant to leave her.

  “No, thank you. I should be good.” She looked around her, her smile wilting at the edges a little.

  He leaned against the doorframe. “Doesn’t quite live up to the fantasy, eh?”

  She gave him a sheepish grin. “It’s seriously cool, don’t get me wrong. Just a little more…rundown than I’d expected.”

  “Yes, well, it was built in the thirteenth century. You can’t expect it to look totally new.”

  She grinned again. “This is true.” She put her hand on the door, giving him an unmistakable cue that it was time to head to his own room.

  “If you need anything, I’m right next door.”

  She gave him a slow smile that had his heart rate doubling, and he took a step back to keep himself from reaching out to touch her. He didn’t know what his deal was. The woman was aggravating as hell, and he’d only just met her. Not to mention the fact that she was his new employee.
He really needed to get his head on straight when he was around her, though it was difficult when every time he saw her, he thought of their kiss on the plane.

  That scorching hot, fantasy-inducing kiss that had his pants suddenly uncomfortably tight. “Well,” he said, taking another step back, “tomorrow will be a long day. We’ll take a tour around the property and make a note of everything that needs to be fixed before guests start to arrive, so get some rest.”

  “That sounds great. I’d love to get a look at this place.”

  “Good. Well, I will see you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Mr. Troy.”

  “You can call me Harrison.”

  “Good night, Harrison.”

  He backed away and went to his room, turning before he went inside. She still stood at her door. She smiled and waved, and then disappeared into her room.

  He sighed. This was so not how he imagined his homecoming to be. Tomorrow was going to be a long, though perhaps not entirely miserable, day.

  Nikki woke in the middle of the night with that impossible-to-ignore pressure in her bladder. The last thing she wanted to do was go traipsing about an unfamiliar place, let alone a freaking castle with no electricity, in the pitch dark. But her bladder wasn’t going to let her do anything else.

  She threw back the covers, shivering a little at the chilly air. It was June, so she wouldn’t have expected it to be so cold at night. But apparently the drafty nature of castles wasn’t just fiction. She hopped out of bed, hoping to get it over with as quickly as possible so she could get back under the warm covers. She ran down the hallway to the bathroom at the end, trying not to be too disconcerted by the strange shadows her flashlight threw on the walls as she took care of business.

  When she’d finished, she opened the door and stepped into the hallway just as the battery in her flashlight sputtered and died.

  “Damn,” she muttered, giving it a good shake. Nothing.

  She sighed and picked her way carefully down the hall, glancing at the doorways to her left and right. What room was hers again? Her head ached, and her fuzzy vision certainly wasn’t making the almost nonexistent light situation any better. She knew it was toward the other end of the hall. Most of the rooms were totally dark, not a spot of light shining from beneath their arches. Not surprising as it was the middle of the night. But she was pretty sure her fire had still been burning…

  She finally came upon a door that was both slightly ajar and emitted the soft light from the smoldering remains of a fire, and she pushed it open gratefully, closing it behind her. The fire had burned down to embers that gave off only the slightest light though the room was still warm enough. Barely. She would have liked to have stoked the flames a bit, but her pounding head drove her straight for the bed. It would be warm enough under the covers.

  She climbed inside and burrowed beneath the thick blankets with a sigh. That’s what she was talking about. She drifted off almost immediately, sleep pulling at her despite the faint echo of a snore that almost woke her.

  Chapter Six

  Harrison rolled over, his mind still foggy in that mid-sleep way that happens when you’re right on the cusp of falling back to sleep. The warm body snuggled against him stretched and sighed, cuddling closer.

  His arms went around her, stroking down her back, while her arms went around him, her lips brushing across his chin until they found his mouth. He kissed her back, hazily thinking that this was the most vivid dream he’d ever had. And he never wanted to wake from it.

  Then her tongue pushed past his lips, and her leg hooked over his hip, bringing a very awake part of his anatomy in close contact with a warm, inviting, and bare part of hers. She gave a soft moan and pressed closer.

  He jolted wide awake about the same time that she did. They quickly untangled themselves from each other and scrambled to opposite sides of the bed. Though as the bed wasn’t all that large, they were still only a foot or so apart.

  The blankets slipped in the scuffle, and Nicole yelped, snatching them back to her chest.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. She looked around frantically. “Where are my clothes?”

  “I have no idea. And I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  “I was sleeping, that’s what I was doing,” she said, holding the covers up to her chest.

  “As was I, until you decided to wrap yourself around me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a very pleasant way to wake up, but you seem to be making a habit of stealth seduction tactics. Is that an American thing? I’ve lived in the country for several years, but it’s not something I’ve ever encountered.”

  “On behalf of all Americans, I’m offended. I was simply sleeping and then wake to find myself all tangled up with you. Naked. What’s going on? We didn’t…did we?”

  “I think I’d remember that.” He frowned. At least he hoped he’d be able to remember something like that.

  “Well, then what are you doing naked in my bed?”

  “I’d rather hoped you’d be able to answer that question. As you are naked in my bed.”

  “No, I’m not,” she said, breaking off as she looked around the room. “Oh God, yes I am. I have no idea what happened. I must have gotten confused last night when I got up to use the restroom. I’m so sorry…I wasn’t naked though…”

  She glanced around. “Ah, there it is.” She pointed to a large T-shirt on the floor a few feet away. “I must have gotten hot in the middle of the night.”

  “Most people just kick off the blankets.”

  She shrugged. “I like to keep covered. Stripping means I can keep my blankets and not sweat to death.”

  He stared at her, eyes wide, his mind too full of images of what that must look like to come up with a reasonable response.

  “I don’t notice I’m doing it most of the time. It just sort of happens.” She clutched the sheet tighter to her chest. “If you’ll turn your back for a second, I’ll jump up and grab it.”

  But before she could make a run for it, the door to his room flew open.

  “You’re home!”

  The voice boomed through the room, and Harrison groaned into his hands, then grabbed a pillow to cover the remains of his pre-waking snog-fest. If he thought it would do any good, he’d have chucked the thing at her. But his mother had never been one to let a little thing like a flying bag of goose feathers stop her.

  “Good morning, Mother.”

  He sat up straighter, making sure the blankets were tucked tightly around his body. He liked to sleep nude. On purpose, unlike Nicole’s accidental stripping. A fact which was making a bad situation so much worse.

  He blinked at the sudden brightness flooding the room. The sun from the window his mother had just uncovered with a flourish worthy of old Hollywood was going to fry his retinas before he had a chance to fully use them again.

  “Oh,” she said, stopping short when she saw Nicole huddled under the blankets. “It looks as though I’ve interrupted something.”

  “No, you haven’t. This is…” He didn’t know what the hell it was. “Just a misunderstanding.”

  “Um hmm. Well, introduce us at least, Harry. Don’t be rude.”

  Harrison almost cringed, knowing how bad it looked. And knowing they wouldn’t believe him even if he explained it.

  “You said no one ever called you Harry,” Nicole whispered at him.

  “I said my friends didn’t call me Harry. She’s not my friend.” He turned back to his mother. “Mother, this is Nicole Franklin. Nicole, this is my mother, Francine Troy.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Troy,” Nicole said, remaining impressively calm about the situation. “You can call me Nikki.”

  “Oh, excellent. I love a good nickname. You can call me Francie. Everyone does.”

  She turned back to him. “Really dear, if you are going to bring women home it might be nice for a heads up. At least put a tie or something on the doorknob. Or is it a sock you kids use these days?”

  “M
other,” he said, hoping to stop her train of thought before she really got started.

  “Is she your girlfriend?” she asked.

  “No. Nicole is—”

  “A prostitute?”

  “Mother! Of course not.”

  His mother shrugged and turned back to Nicole. “No offense, dear. I’m not saying you look like a prostitute or anything, and I certainly wouldn’t judge you if you were. Though a prostitute would be so much more interesting than a mere girlfriend. Or the usual gold diggers that he seems to bring home. Are you a gold digger, dear?”

  Nicole’s lips twitched. “No, ma’am. I’m not a gold digger. Or a prostitute. In case you were still wondering on that point.”

  “Splendid. Well, then. Who are you?”

  “I’m his assistant.”

  His mother looked back and forth between the two of them. “And what exactly do you assist him with, dear?”

  “Mother!”

  “Oh, do loosen up, son. She is naked in your bed, after all. It’s a perfectly reasonable assumption. You’re so wound up these days it would probably do you good to hire someone to help ease your stress, if you get my meaning. Have you ever seen Pretty Woman? It’s very nice to meet you, Nikki.”

  “Likewise,” Nikki said. “And I’ve always loved Pretty Woman. Though again, not a prostitute. Just want to make sure everyone is clear on that point.”

  “Oh my God, Mother,” Harrison said, suddenly feeling like an awkward fifteen-year-old boy who wanted nothing more than to disappear into a hole in the floor.

  “Who’s a prostitute?” his sister, Amy, said as she wandered in, her nose buried in her phone. Harrison inwardly groaned when his sister turned her gaze on him. “Hallo, Harry. Who is that with you? Is that your prostitute?”

  “Nikki,” Nicole said, waving at her from her cocoon of pillows. “Assistant. Not a prostitute. You are?”

  “Amy, Harry’s sister.”

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Not most people’s sentiment, but glad to hear it.” Amy turned back to him. “Bringing your work home with you now, Harry?”