Must Love Highlanders by Patience Griffin Grace Burrowes Page A

licked her wrist, then took a seat at her feet as if photobombing was all part of the service, ma’am.
    “The local Scottish Tourism Board representative wants his picture taken,” Liam said as the camera clicked. “I expect the chapel cat sent him. You might smile now, Louise. Scottish deerhounds can be particular about the company they keep.”
    Louise smiled, because
she
was particular about the company she kept. No more Roberts—he had been a weak moment brought on by a career transition and a sexual drought—and no more pecan pie topped with mixed messages.
    For the next two weeks her company would be Scotland and Dougie.
    Also Liam Cromarty.
    “I think I’ll get a dog,” she said. “A nice big, friendly dog.” Blackstone would have to adjust, or join Jane and Dunstan’s practice.
    “I like dogs,” Liam replied, as the camera clicked again. The breeze whipped his dark hair every which way, but his concentration as he tapped the screen was unwavering.
    Down the hill, somebody whistled, and the deerhound trotted off.
    “Your turn,” Louise said, taking the phone from him. “Think Scottish thoughts.”
    “Just for that, I’ll introduce you to tablet,” Liam said, shifting so the wind blew his hair back, not into his eyes. “Or Jeannie’s whisky brownies.”
    “You’re talking to a Southern woman, Cromarty. Don’t make me get out my bourbon cake recipe.”
    Viewing him through the camera lens, Louise had to both look and see. What aspect of this guy belonged in his portrait? What would those painters whose works hung in the gallery do with this subject?
    Louise shifted the angle, so wide blue sky got honorable mention, along with the cairn of red-brown rocks topping the summit. The sea shone behind the hill, a flat, silver mirror saying farewell to the late-day sun.
    And yet the kilted man standing off-center in the frame dominated the image easily.
    “What’s tablet?” Louise asked.
    Just as she hit the shutter button, Liam smiled. Not a Scottish Tourism Board grin, not a pained male, “for God’s sake, get it over with” smile.
    “You would probably call tablet fudge,” he said, with a hint of a challenge. “Sort of a blend of sweetened condensed milk and butter. The perfect treat to tide you over until supper, and I have some in my sporran.”
    Louise took a second shot of that slight, diabolical smile, but the fiend had dangled a lure her blood sugar couldn’t resist. She put her phone away.
    “What do I have to do to get some of this magical treat?” she asked.
    They were alone at the top of Arthur’s Seat, the light would soon fade, and Louise did not want to leave. The views were magnificent, and the climb—and the company—had done her good.
    Liam dug in his sporran and passed her a bite-sized square the color of turbinado sugar.
    “What you must do to earn this treat, Louise Cameron, is enjoy it.”
    The texture was perfect, between fudge and hard frosting, the sweetness underlain with the richness of cream. Hot, strong coffee would hold up to such a delectable morsel.
    “This stuff ought to come with a gym membership,” Louise said. “Chunky Monkey pales by comparison. You aren’t having any?”
    “My treat,” Liam said, brushing a loose strand of hair back from her jaw, “is that right at this moment, you’re happy. Tablet is not as delectable as the smile you’re wearing, Miss Cameron.”
    On that unexpected bit of gallantry, he moved off down the incline.
    Louise finished her tablet, munching slowly, letting the pleasure dissolve on her tongue as the sun sank lower and the sea gleamed on the horizon.
    “I’m happy,” she whispered, letting the realization replace all the anxious, dark, doubting feelings she often carried around inside. More baggage than she realized, heavier than she’d known. She lifted her arms to the sky, not caring if Liam was watching.
    I’m happy.
    When she’d clambered down to the path, she fell in beside Liam, content to walk beside