discern. She stared back at him for a moment and then spoke. “Thank you.”
He allowed his lips to relax into a wide smile. “Well, seeing as you’ve decided not to sic Nurse Ratched on me again, why don’t you tell me where you live?”
* * * *
Beth sat quietly in the black Mustang as they veered out of Kirkwall and into the surrounding countryside, unsure of what to say to Machar. She contented herself with running her hands over the leather interior.
She’d hoped to see him again, God help her, and here he was. When he’d left her hospital room, no, when she’d shooed him away, he’d taken all the color with him. She’d been left again in a somber room that did nothing but fill her with dread.
Now that he was with her, she was glimpsing bright hues again. The warm chocolate tones of his worn leather jacket. Formfitting blue jeans. Another concert T-shirt peeking out from under his jacket, this one dark green with an AC/DC logo. And there was a rosy tinge to his flawless cheeks, as if he’d been standing in the cold for a while. Had he?
Stop looking at his perfect skin . So it radiates health and … incredible stamina. So what?
Once again Mack had come to her rescue, this time with his flashy car. She’d never driven in anything quite so decadent. It purred under her as he ripped up the pavement with ease. The rumbling of the engine set off a chain reaction of sensation that culminated in a quivering between her thighs. Uncomfortable, she squeezed her legs together. She wasn’t used to feeling anything lately, other than blinding pain, and wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. It must be the effects of the ibuprofen the nurse had given her for her headache. “You drive a fancy car.”
Mack laughed. “This thing? Not mine.”
“Did you steal it?” she couldn’t help teasing, her face deadpan.
He turned to face her, a look of surprise on his face, as if he hadn’t expected her to make a joke and liked it. “No, madam. It belongs to my father. My ride isn’t suitable for transporting patients.”
“Your ride?”
“I have a Harley. All my brothers do too. I guess you could say we’re bike fanatics, the whole lot of us.” He considered her face, his brows twitching in concentration. “I’ll give you a ride on it when … you’re up to it.”
Beth said nothing to that. It wasn’t true anyway. He would drop her off at home and she’d never see him again. He was just being polite, for some warped reason she hadn’t discovered yet. Misplaced concern, she supposed. She shouldn’t have even let him take her home. Still, the thought of walking into that empty house alone one more time was enough to make her sick. She couldn’t pretend having Mack with her, or anyone, wouldn’t be a relief.
After a quiet ride, they arrived at the house she’d shared with Frank and Luke. It was a small cottage, cozy for three. She’d fallen in love with its old wooden beams and stucco exterior the first time she’d seen it, just as she’d fallen swiftly in love with Frank Pedersen. The TV antiques appraiser from What’s In Your Attic? had bowled her over with his wit and charm and boyish good looks. His show had traveled to Florida for a special American taping, and she’d been there in the audience, hoping to get her mother’s watch appraised. He’d smiled at her and she’d fallen. After a whirlwind courtship, she’d married him and moved to Orkney, his home base. Life with Frank had been good, even if she always felt a little out of place in Scotland. But when Luke had been born, their mutual happiness had overridden any concerns.
As she got out of the car, she took note of the daisies Frank had planted last year. They were dried-up stalks now. She should have pulled them. She should have done a lot of things, like convince him not to go out that day with Lukey.
A fierce jolt of disgust shot through her. Oh, would it ever stop hurting? With automatic swiftness, she forced the hurt back down
He allowed his lips to relax into a wide smile. “Well, seeing as you’ve decided not to sic Nurse Ratched on me again, why don’t you tell me where you live?”
* * * *
Beth sat quietly in the black Mustang as they veered out of Kirkwall and into the surrounding countryside, unsure of what to say to Machar. She contented herself with running her hands over the leather interior.
She’d hoped to see him again, God help her, and here he was. When he’d left her hospital room, no, when she’d shooed him away, he’d taken all the color with him. She’d been left again in a somber room that did nothing but fill her with dread.
Now that he was with her, she was glimpsing bright hues again. The warm chocolate tones of his worn leather jacket. Formfitting blue jeans. Another concert T-shirt peeking out from under his jacket, this one dark green with an AC/DC logo. And there was a rosy tinge to his flawless cheeks, as if he’d been standing in the cold for a while. Had he?
Stop looking at his perfect skin . So it radiates health and … incredible stamina. So what?
Once again Mack had come to her rescue, this time with his flashy car. She’d never driven in anything quite so decadent. It purred under her as he ripped up the pavement with ease. The rumbling of the engine set off a chain reaction of sensation that culminated in a quivering between her thighs. Uncomfortable, she squeezed her legs together. She wasn’t used to feeling anything lately, other than blinding pain, and wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. It must be the effects of the ibuprofen the nurse had given her for her headache. “You drive a fancy car.”
Mack laughed. “This thing? Not mine.”
“Did you steal it?” she couldn’t help teasing, her face deadpan.
He turned to face her, a look of surprise on his face, as if he hadn’t expected her to make a joke and liked it. “No, madam. It belongs to my father. My ride isn’t suitable for transporting patients.”
“Your ride?”
“I have a Harley. All my brothers do too. I guess you could say we’re bike fanatics, the whole lot of us.” He considered her face, his brows twitching in concentration. “I’ll give you a ride on it when … you’re up to it.”
Beth said nothing to that. It wasn’t true anyway. He would drop her off at home and she’d never see him again. He was just being polite, for some warped reason she hadn’t discovered yet. Misplaced concern, she supposed. She shouldn’t have even let him take her home. Still, the thought of walking into that empty house alone one more time was enough to make her sick. She couldn’t pretend having Mack with her, or anyone, wouldn’t be a relief.
After a quiet ride, they arrived at the house she’d shared with Frank and Luke. It was a small cottage, cozy for three. She’d fallen in love with its old wooden beams and stucco exterior the first time she’d seen it, just as she’d fallen swiftly in love with Frank Pedersen. The TV antiques appraiser from What’s In Your Attic? had bowled her over with his wit and charm and boyish good looks. His show had traveled to Florida for a special American taping, and she’d been there in the audience, hoping to get her mother’s watch appraised. He’d smiled at her and she’d fallen. After a whirlwind courtship, she’d married him and moved to Orkney, his home base. Life with Frank had been good, even if she always felt a little out of place in Scotland. But when Luke had been born, their mutual happiness had overridden any concerns.
As she got out of the car, she took note of the daisies Frank had planted last year. They were dried-up stalks now. She should have pulled them. She should have done a lot of things, like convince him not to go out that day with Lukey.
A fierce jolt of disgust shot through her. Oh, would it ever stop hurting? With automatic swiftness, she forced the hurt back down
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