A Private Gentleman (43 page)

a shotgun, he offers Cam a blanket and a place to stay.

Somehow, Cam quickly charms his way through Nichol’s defenses and into

his heart. Even his grandfather takes to the cheeky city boy, whose hard work

and good head for figures help set the farm back on its feet.

As the cold Scottish springtime melts into summer, Nichol finds himself

falling in love. When tragedy strikes, Cam’s resolutely held secret is finally

revealed and Nichol must face the truth. He’s given his heart away, and it’s time

to pay the price.

Warning: Contains explicit M/M sex and the disruption of a quiet Scottish town by
a fistfight and some tight designer jeans.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Scrap Metal:

It was almost dark by the time we set off, the only light left in the sky a

serpent of rose gold across the sea. Our famed Arran sunsets had been wiped out

by rain for so long that I was reluctant to spoil it, but I flicked the quad bike’s

beams to full as we left the track and struck out over the fields.

I took it easy in deference to my passenger. It was a long time since Archie

had deigned to hell around on a bike with me, but I knew it was a rough ride.

The quads were single-seaters technically, one and a half at a stretch—or a crush,

more like it. The pillion either hung on to the back of the saddle, or…

I hit a tussock and bounced the bike hard. Cameron gave a startled yelp then

burst into wild laughter. I pulled up, grinning too. God, what a sound—

unfettered, like a kid’s. “Sorry. You okay?”

“Aye. Nearly went crack over nips into yon bloody bush, but I’m fine.”

“Crack over nips, eh? What a nice Larkhall lad.” I let the engine idle. “I know

we’ve barely met and all, but if you hang on to me, you’ll be safer.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Course not.”

He put his arms around me tentatively. I gave his hand an encouraging

pat—it was only a business arrangement after all, never sparking the slightest

frisson in me when Kenzie was hitching a ride—and he closed his grip.

That was better. We had a lot of ground to cover, and now I could give it

some welly. After the first good bump or two, he got the idea and hung on

properly. I picked up speed and felt him duck his head against my shoulder to

shelter from the wind. “All right back there?”

“Yes. Go faster if you like.”

I chuckled. “Fun, is it?”

“Hell, yeah.”

I closed my fist on the throttle and took off. His grip was powerful. Whatever

the reasons for his loss of weight, they hadn’t yet impinged on the essential inner

force of him. I could take a lot of his skinny warmth at my back, I decided,

gunning the quad up to the last crest before the long slope towards the cliff’s

edge and the sea. From there I’d get an idea of the task ahead, how far the flock

had scattered, if any looked like they had new lambs at foot. Fill up the bale

feeders, see to any casualties, begin the endless round of fence checks…

“God almighty. Stop.”

I braked so hard he nearly went over my shoulder. “What? Did I hit

something?”

“No. I just want to see… It’s so beautiful.”

“Jesus.” I snapped off the engine. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. But look at it.”

I was looking. I looked at this landscape every day, through sea frets, rain, or

just the mists of my exhaustion. I didn’t need him to tell me it was lovely, on

those rare days when it cracked open its casket of jewels.

Or did I? That serpent band of light had found its reflection, its shimmering

twin, in the sea. The air between them was on fire, casting the cliffs in bronze,

throwing a weird burnished radiance right into the zenith. Ailsa Craig island

burned on the horizon, its sugarloaf turned into a pyramid, as if Giza had set sail

from its sands and paused here on some unimaginable journey, to Atlantis

maybe. Yes, I’d been looking. But I hadn’t seen it in months.

Cam dismounted from the bike and came to stand beside me. “Incredible

place,” he said softly. “What’s it called?”

“Just Seacliff, as far as I know—like the family. Seacliff Farm.”

“Seriously? That’s wild. Crazy romantic.”

I stole a glance at him. The transfiguring light had caught him too. If

anything deserved to be on the cover of a book…

“Not really,” I said, gruff in proportion with my desire to tell him so. To

undo my grip on the quad’s handlebars and reach for him. I did let go with one

hand, but only to point at the glittering water then the towering faces of rock that

lined the shore. “It’s pretty basic really. Sea. Cliff.” I turned in the saddle and

gestured back the way we’d come, where Harry’s windows had taken the sunset,

almost as if he’d put on all the lights and kindled a comfortable fire. “Farm.”

“Nichol, did you ever see…?” Cam paused, and I frowned at the unsteady

hitch in his voice. I couldn’t have upset him, could I? “Did you ever see a film

called
Young Frankenstein
?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s one of my favourites.”

“Do you remember when Igor’s driving Professor Frankenstein home to the

castle, and they hear something howling, and the girl says, ‘Werewolf!’? And

Frankenstein says, ‘Werewolf?’, and…”

“And Igor starts pointing and says, ‘There, wolf. There, castle.’ Okay, okay, I

get it.” I shook my head, helplessly mirroring his smile. “Fair enough. I don’t

know how I got so blind to it all. Or so grumpy about it, for that matter.”

“Are you kidding me? You must have been through hell.”

His voice had changed completely. Now its huskiness was something else—a

sympathy that passed like a blade through my hard-won defences. God, and I

wasn’t going to have to reach for him—he had put out a hand to me, careful but

unafraid. I held very still while he brushed his fingertips across my fringe.

“Were you very lonely?”

Desolate.
I hadn’t known till now. I didn’t bloody want to know. If I let that come to surface, he would see it. He was a stranger, a runaway. A criminal, to

take the view that Archie Drummond would, an unknown who had broken into

my life and would like as not be gone in the morning.

“Sometimes,” I managed. I couldn’t say more. If I opened my mouth again,

he would see how badly I wanted him to kiss it.

Oh, God. He saw anyway. A sweet concentration gathered in his eyes. He

leaned a little towards me. I heard the wind in the gorse, the whisper of the sea

far below us then nothing but the pulse of my own blood.

Document Outline

• A Private Gentleman
  
• Heidi Cullinan
  
• Acknowledgments
  
• Dedication
  
• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Chapter Fourteen
  
• Chapter Fifteen
  
• Chapter Sixteen
  
• Chapter Seventeen
  
• Chapter Eighteen
  
• About the Author
  
• He followed all the rules…until one man showed him a dozen ways to break them.
  
• An Improper Holiday
  
• © 2009 K.A. Mitchell
  
• Trusting a psychic flash might solve a mystery…and lead to love.
  
• The Psychic and the Sleuth
  
• © 2011 Bonnie Dee and Summer Devon
  
• Is there room for love in a heart full of secrets?
  
• Scrap Metal
  
• © 2012 Harper Fox
  

Table of Contents

A Private Gentleman

Acknowledgments

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

About the Author

He followed all the rules…until one man showed him a dozen ways to break them.

Trusting a psychic flash might solve a mystery…and lead to love.

Is there room for love in a heart full of secrets?