more day.”
“And then?”
“We’ll be in London two days, then I’ll send my charges back to the States. I’ve planned to stay on for an additional day before leaving myself.”
“So little time. A pity,” he murmured as she turned to open the van’s door. An unwelcome heat settled down low within his body.
He chose to ignore it. Clearly Jennifer Murphy was on this side of the Atlantic for only a brief time. Her home and future lay in the U.S. His place was in Great Britain and would remain so for many reasons he chose not to dwell on now.
“Well then,” he began, but had to clear a strange roughness from his throat before continuing, “goodbye, Jennifer of Baltimore.” He offered his hand, then helped her up into the driver’s seat before turning quickly in the direction of his stables. He needed a good hard ride. It wasn’t the physical activity of his choice, just now, but it would bloody well have to do.
Jennifer glanced up at the rearview mirror as she drove away from the wrong castle. For the few seconds it took the van to reach the first curve in the drive, she watched Christopher Smythe stride around the corner of the gray stone wall of his beloved Donan. Her palms felt moist on the steering wheel. Prickles teased the back of her neck. She could still feel the pressure of his lips against her fingertips. Damn the man.
Yes, he was arrogant. Yes, he was too good-looking and rich for his own good or the sanity of any woman who crossed his path. But thanks to him, no one in her party seemed to realize she’d gotten lost on her way from London to Edinburgh, and intruded on a real earl and his home. For that she was indebted to him.
How could it have happened? She never got lost! By the time she led a tour, she had done her homework—charted her routes in detail and double checked them, memorized her lectures on the art, architecture and history for each stop.
She was vexed with herself, so much so that she didn’t blame him for tricking her. Admittedly he had taken advantage of her mistake and flirted with her outrageously, but he had also provided a way for her to save face. She really ought to do something nice for him in return. Maybe send a thank-you note…or rip up at least one copy of that horrid tabloid that had written embarrassing things about him.
Throughout the afternoon in Edinburgh, Jennifer thought about Christopher, even though she tried her very best not to. His dizzying blue eyes flashed repeatedly in her mind; his expressive mouth and sexy British accent whispered to her as they toured the ruins of Hollyrood Abbey and the adjoining park. She remembered how his dark hair had fallen in a boyish wave across one corner of his forehead, and how his eyes twinkled, sharing the joke with her when he realized she had found him out.
Then there was that fingertip-kissing business. Had the seductive tingles racing up her arm been unintended? Probably. Christopher was a man accustomed to—and obviously very good at—arousing such feelings in women. But he no doubt had gone through the motions automatically. She could picture him bussing the plump hand of an octogenarian duchess, then turning unconcernedly away as she swooned. All in a day’s work for a handsome earl, what?
Although Jennifer’s head told her the feelings he’d left her to sort out meant nothing, her heart wouldn’t cooperate. Now is the worst time to complicate your life, she told herself.
She had to protect her own and her mother’s financial security. That was her first priority, and it meant working long hours to pay off the last of the debts her father had dumped on them before her mother finally divorced the rogue. It would be nice to have a man in her life, yes. But none she’d ever met could guarantee her the security she needed. And she’d be damned if she let one come between her and the financial well-being she needed!
Jennifer thought about her father, then about Christopher. The only type of male worse than a womanizer with a penchant for gambling was a playboy who threw money away on extravagant clothes, cars and parties for his friends. And he lived on another continent! Imagine the weeks of separation, wondering if he was spending his last pound or sleeping with another woman while they were apart. Even if he was faithful to her, imagine the money wasted on long-distance calls and airfare.
Getting hung up on someone as sexy and charming as the earl of Winchester—who lived in an honest-to-goodness castle, raced the length of polo fields astride wild-eyed ponies and made women weak-kneed at the touch of his lips…that would be the worst mistake of her life.
Stop it! Jennifer ordered herself as she shakily gripped the iron rail outside the bleak stone walls of Hollyrood. Why on earth was she thinking like this? She had spent exactly ninety minutes in the company of Christopher Smythe. She knew next to nothing about the man, and here she was daydreaming an already-doomed relationship with him! She must be losing her mind.
At the end of the day, Jennifer made sure that everyone in her charge was well fed and settled into their respective rooms at the stately Caledonia on Princes Street. Bringing her maps and brochures with her, she took the lift down to the hotel pub and found a seat in a quiet corner. There would be no more mistakes made on this trip! With a determined little cough, she unfolded the city street map of Edinburgh.
“Good idea,” a deep voice stated from nearby.
Jennifer looked up, startled. “What are you doing here?” She grinned at Christopher, her insides quivering with pleasure at seeing him again, even as an inner voice whispered, Don’t you dare get all wobbly inside!
“Business,” he said quickly. “Need a second opinion on those maps?”
She laughed. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt, although we’ll be walking most of the time tomorrow. I don’t know what happened today. I never get lost, honest. If my mother ever found out she’d have a fit.”
“Then we won’t tell.” He winked at her and pulled out the chair beside hers. Leaning over the table, he scrutinized another of her maps, the one showing Scotland’s highways, one of which she’d highlighted in bright orange.
“Is Donan the real name of your castle?” she asked. She had noticed earlier that he pronounced it as a Scot would: Dun-in. “I couldn’t find it on the Historic Registry.”
“It’s taken from the Gaelic, the name of an ancient clan. I haven’t yet been able to qualify for the registry, because of its condition.” He pointed with one long finger at a symbol on the map. “Here was today’s problem. You should have waited for the next exit off the A7, just after the loch. Then you would have been fine.”
“I know, I figured that out when we stopped for lunch. I really do feel foolish. By the way, I owe you for covering for me. Although most of the folks in my little crew are very nice, I have one problem couple.” The rest of the group was easy.
She had four couples, three of which were married and seniors. The other couple was in their thirties and evidently had been dating for several years. The remaining two clients were a single man in his forties, who was tracing his genealogy, and a fiftyish woman who seemed to enjoy the security of traveling with a group.
He frowned. “What kind of problem?”
“They’re never satisfied with anything, or at least they pretend to be upset. I have a feeling they’re building up to ask for their money back. We guarantee satisfaction with all our excursions.”
“Surely just one little slip like getting lost for an hour shouldn’t cost the entire holiday.”
Jennifer
