Some Like it Scottish (29 page)

He took her hand and led her to the bench under which the life raft was stored. He pulled out one of the bundled rafts and showed her the rope to yank if she needed to inflate it.

“Now can we go?” he asked.

She reached into the storage under the seat and pulled out another life vest. “Not until you suit up, sailor.”

*   *   *

For gawd's sake!
Ramsay snatched the life vest from her.
The things men did for love.
This wasn't his first boat ride. He was on the water every day of his blasted life.

He put his arms in the holes and zipped it up. “Satisfied?”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

He leaned in and kissed her soundly. “Okay.”

He walked into the wheelhouse—his pants uncomfortably tight—and started up the boat. She came in and stood beside him.

Without looking at her, he reached over and tugged on her hair. “Over time, ye'll get used to the ocean, lass.”

She leaned into his hand. “I already have. Thanks to you. I'm starting to remember how much I loved being on the water.”

“Are ye trying to say that I'm good for you?”

She gave a noncommittal shrug.

He put his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. “Ye're going to love my favorite spot.” It was a secluded cove, perfect for making love to his woman. Even though he'd bet good money that she'd make him keep on the life jacket, he'd do his best to relax her. Because
once she was well and thoroughly loved, she wouldn't be able to resist his proposal.

As he put his free hand in his pocket and touched the ring box he'd gotten from John, he looked over at his sprite. He had never felt happier, or more grateful, in his whole entire life. The Almighty had a way of turning obstacles into highways. Never in a million years could Ramsay have foreseen Kit as his future. In fact, at first he'd only seen her as a roadblock to his dream. Now
she was
the dream. He kissed her hair. “Aw, Kit.”

She put her arm around his waist, leaning into him. “Hmm?”

“Nothing.” He could wait until they were around the small peninsula and anchored.

Five minutes later, they were there. Away from the prying eyes of Gandiegow. The hideout cove he'd claimed as his own when he was a boy. The place he planned to claim Kit for always.

Kit turned toward the outcropping of bluffs and her eyes softened. “Oh, Ramsay, it's stunning.”

“I told you ye'd love it.” He dropped the anchor and retrieved the picnic basket that Dominic and Claire had fixed up for him at the restaurant—seafood alfredo, roasted broccoli, and fresh bread. Dom had chosen the wine and Claire had wrapped up a couple of cannolis for dessert.

Together, Ramsay and Kit set the table—an overturned crate placed near the side benches, covered with a crisp white cloth. After their plates and food were out, Ramsay stood back and admired the scene, especially his sprite. “Perfect.”

She blushed, looking even lovelier.

She sat and he took his place beside her, wanting everything to go perfectly. He was a gentleman and she was everything he'd ever wanted in a woman. They talked and laughed during their meal—so completely in tune with each other, connected—and Ramsay had never been happier. When they were done, they worked together in perfect harmony, clearing their dishes and stacking them back in the basket.

When the last item was stowed, Kit wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thank you. That was a wonderful date.” She leaned up and kissed him lightly on the lips.

He wanted to deepen the kiss, but it could wait for a more private setting. “The date isn't over yet, kitten. The night is young. Come with me. There's something I need to show you below.”

She gave him a slight smile. “Am I going to like it?”

“Verra much.” He could tell she knew exactly what was going to happen next. In the captain's cabin, he'd left a box of condoms and his iPod, loaded with every love song he could think of. Everything would be perfect.

He took her hand and walked the three steps down and into his quarters. The bed was small, but he didn't need a lot of room to show her how much he cared for her. He shut the door behind him.

But with the door closed, she seemed unsure.

He pushed her hair behind her ear. “What's wrong?” He couldn't help but kiss her neck.

“Will the boat be all right? I mean, we're not up there watching things.”

“You saw me drop the anchor. We'll be fine.” He pulled her to him, but it wasn't close enough because of the damned life vest
.
He tugged at her flotation. “Can we take these off now?”

She shook her head no.

“Okay. For you, I'll work around it.” He kissed her and maneuvered her toward the bed. He nuzzled and caressed every part he could get at. Finally, he laid her back and pulled off her wellies and socks, kissing the tops of her feet. He worked his way up her calves and thighs. Just as he was about to slip his hands under her dress, she tugged him up to her.

“I'll make you a deal. If you promise to put your life jacket back on afterward—I mean immediately—then I guess we can take these off.”

He held up his hand in a solemn oath. “I promise.”

She reached for the zipper of his life vest and pulled it down. As he shrugged out of it, she unzipped hers. He didn't stop there, but pulled off his polo shirt. She didn't stop there, either. She stood, unzipped her dress as well, and stepped out of it, waiting in her lacy white bra and yellow-checked underwear. The sweetest gift he'd ever gotten.

“
Aw, gawd
. Ye may have to give me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation before this is all over.”

She stepped toward him and laid her hands on his chest, caressing the area over his heart. He was so filled with emotion that he wanted to propose
now
. But he would wait so she didn't think it was his hormones doing the asking.

“You're a beautiful man, Ramsay.” She moistened her lips with her tongue, and that was all the invitation he needed.

He dove in and kissed her until he was weak in the knees. Gawd, she had a way of taking it out of him. He pulled her down to the bed, this time so that she was on top. “Have yere way with me, lass. I'm all yours.” He meant it.

She brushed back the hair from his face, gazing into his eyes. There was a softness there that he could get lost in, and perhaps already had. She helped him out of his clothes and shoes, and then leaned down and kissed him tenderly. The kiss deepened with her taking complete control. He was in heaven.

He ran his hands down her back, cupping her bum to him, loving how they fit together. “Gawd, sprite, ye're awfully good at this,” he growled into their kiss.

“Only with you,” she said back.

His heart swelled. If he got any more overcome with emotion, he might start reciting poetry.

She reached for a condom and had him suited up in no time. He had thought she would take it slow, but not
his sprite
. She sighed as she slid down on him. It took all his effort not to come in that instant.

“Hold still,” he commanded as he tried to regain concentration.

Of course, she didn't listen, but laughed as she taunted him with her moving hips.

He growled again, clutching her, rolling her over so he was on top.

He looked down at her flushed face, smiling up at him.

He pulled back a little and watched her expression change to one of complete bliss. He pushed back into her, and this time she closed her eyes and moaned.

“That's it,” he crooned. And did it again.

Soon they were rocking the boat and he was loving her with everything he had. He wanted it to last forever, and when they were married, it would. They fell apart together in the most perfect way—she was saying his
name, again, but this time he could hear that she loved him, too.

When he thought he could speak, he gazed into her eyes. “Gawd, lass, ye're wonderful.”

“So are you.” But she sounded sad. “I think my foot is cramping. Can you get up?”

He kissed her forehead and eased off of her. “Always, my romantic lass.”

She frowned and swung her legs over the side of the bed, pulling the sheet to her chest, covering herself.

He wanted everything to be perfect. And for a few minutes it had been. But something was trying to trouble her now. He'd better act before things got worse.

He took care of the condom and slipped on his boxers and polo. He grinned over at her as he grabbed his life vest. “For you. As promised.” He slipped his arms in and zipped it up.

She gave him a smile.
Better.

As an afterthought, he slipped on his dungarees. He didn't want her to look back on this moment and think of him as uncivilized.

As she pulled her clothes on, he pulled the ring box from his pants pocket.

She was having trouble with the zipper on her dress.

“Here. Turn around.” He pulled the zipper up with the box in this hand, and kissed her beautiful neck while he was there.

When she had barely turned around, he dropped to one knee. There wasn't a lot of room in his quarters, but he would do this right.

He held the opened box out to her and poured his heart out like a tipped-over bucket of water. “I love ye,
Kit. I need you. I want you here with me in Gandiegow forever. Calm the storm inside me and tell me that ye'll be mine for all time.” He'd said it perfectly.

But instead of accepting his proposal, she stared at him as if he were the Loch Ness Monster.

His heart fell, so hard and heavy it was a wonder it didn't bust the hull and hit the bottom of the ocean.

“I
can't,” Kit whispered.

This feeling of utter despair was more suffocating than her fear of the water had ever been. The one thing she wanted more than anything else was this man and his love. Here it was, a ring box away, and she couldn't reach out and take it.

“I can't,” she repeated.

Ramsay snapped the box shut, jerked himself up from the floor, and shoved the box in his pocket. He was so big that he filled the room. She couldn't escape. She couldn't breathe.

“I'll be on deck.” He yanked the door open and stomped up the stairs.

He didn't understand—she had responsibilities. Though it might be her one chance at happiness, it would be selfish of her to take the life that he offered. She had to take care of her mother and sisters. It would be different if she'd made a success of her expansion into Scotland, but right now all she had was the business in Alaska. It was the only thing keeping her family afloat. They all depended on her. She couldn't take the ring and be Ramsay's wife, no matter how tempting the offer. She had to
go back to the U.S. Find more clients. Pay her mother's rent, her sisters' tuition. She was boxed in from all sides, responsibility sitting on top, keeping her trapped. Keeping her from her one true love.

The boat's engine roared to life. She sat on the bed for a long moment, her responsibilities anchoring her to the spot. But she couldn't sit here for the rest of her life. She reached down and retrieved her socks and wellies. After dressing she went back on deck. The sky had turned dark.

For a moment she watched Ramsay at the controls—staunch, stiff, staring out at the sea.

“I owe you an explanation,” she started.

“Don't fash yereself.”

She sighed heavily. “Maybe I want to
fash
myself.”

There was a thump to the boat.

“Holy hell.”
The anger in his voice was gone. It had turned to alarm.

“What was that?”

He didn't answer, but geared down to idle.

He hurried past her and went below. Obscenities flew. “Kit, get down here.”

She froze.

“Kit, dammit, I need you. Now!”

She ran down the stairs, stopped on the last step, and stared in the engine room, horrified at the hairline crack in the hull. Water shot out like a shower set on high.

“Hold this here while I make sure the bilge pump is going full out.”

She couldn't move.

He seemed to have remembered her fear, because he shifted gears with her, as surely as he had done with the boat.

“Lass, we're not far from home. We'll make it back
fine. I just need ye to hold this for me while I get something to plug it.” He looked at her earnestly.

It was that look that had her taking the last step. Her wellies splashed in the water. He gave her a rag to hold against the crack and left through the doorway.

“There's nothing to worry about. Ye know where all the safety equipment is. I showed you, remember?” he shouted from the other room. “We have the satellite phone, the flares, and the first-aid kit under the counter in the wheelhouse. Ye know where the life raft is. We're going to be fine.”

But the boat was listing a little to one side. She couldn't speak. The water was gaining on her wellies.

“Motherducker!” he said.

That helped her find her voice. “What is it? What's wrong?” She didn't leave her post, but she wanted to.

“A bilge pump has failed,” he yelled. He came back into her room. “The other one can't keep up.”

“What are we going to do?”

He kissed her soundly. “We're not going to panic.”

But it was almost as if his words had flipped a switch. The waves began pounding the boat.

“We're going to try to patch her so we can make it home,” he said in a calming voice. He retrieved a bag from a shelf and pulled out a small hammer and pieces of wood that looked like oddly shaped pencils. “You and I are going to insert these into the hole. If we can slow the leak, we'll be fine.”

“And if we can't slow the leak?” she squeaked.

He grinned at her. “We'll make a run for it.”

They worked together—she held the pieces of wood while he hammered the tapered and conical-shaped plugs in place, filling up the crack.

“When we get this patched, we'll call John and tell him that we're on our way.” He hammered what looked to be the last one that would fill the hole. It still leaked, but at least they'd slowed it down.

“Is that going to hold?” she asked.

“We'll keep our fingers crossed.” He winked at her, took her hand, and pulled her toward the door.

A huge wave slammed against the side, and she saw their slow leak gush more water. “It's not working,” she said.

He glanced back. “We'll put a call into John first. Then you and I will fix it again. We make a good team.” He squeezed her hand and pulled her up the stairs.

She held on to the railing as she was in danger of being bounced off the walls. With him holding her other hand, she felt assured that everything was going to be okay.

But as Ramsay's foot hit the deck, a wave hit the side of the boat hard. In horrible slow motion, he lost his footing, pitched forward, and hit his head on the mast. He went down.

“No!” she screamed. Her ears buzzed. Her head pounded.
This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening.
For a moment she waited—hoped—he was teasing her. A bad joke. But he just lay there.

She climbed over him and made sure he was still breathing. He was.

She shook him. “Wake up! Wake up!” He didn't move.

But he's breathing.

The waves were rocking the boat but at least water wasn't coming over the edges.
Yet
. But water was coming in below. She stood and looked around at the ocean for a fishing boat and then to the shore. They were so close. But yet so far.

She looked heavenward. “Please, God, help us!”

The answer came to her. She ran to the storage under the seating and pulled out the life raft. She braced her foot on the raft and tugged the rope that Ramsay had shown her. With a piercing squeal of air, the raft came to life, filling with air, expanding. She kicked it aside so it wouldn't cover his beautiful head.

The list!
“The satellite phone. The flare gun. The first-aid kit.” She repeated it back to him as if he hadn't been knocked unconscious. She hurried into the wheelhouse, holding on to anything sturdy so she didn't get knocked out, either. She gathered everything in her arms and threw them into the lifeboat.

“Aren't you glad now that I'm a nervous wreck about the water?” she yelled.

He had his life vest on, but she knew, from when she fell into the loch, that hypothermia could overtake a person quickly. He couldn't go in the water. He couldn't get wet. Neither of them could . . . and survive.

She knelt beside him. “Ramsay,
please
, wake up.” When he didn't, she got angry. “You promised to keep me safe.”

But suddenly she realized that the only one to keep them safe was her. “I don't care if you do have a hundred pounds on me, mister. I will get you into that damned lifeboat!” She grabbed the shoulders of his life vest and tugged. God must've been with her, because another wave tipped the boat in the same direction that she pulled, and Ramsay moved twelve inches toward the life raft.

That was when the first raindrop hit. And she knew it was urgent to get him in the boat with the canvas tarp over them before it really started to storm. This time when she tugged, she walked backward, and Ramsay came with her.
She. Would. Not. Stop. Until. He. Was. Safe.

The boat tossed her sideways, but she held on to Ramsay. With superhuman strength, she dragged him to the life raft. “You're not drowning on my watch.”

She pulled him over the edge of the raft. She ran around to the other side and tugged his feet, until he was completely inside.

She climbed inside with him. Pulled the canopy over them to keep out the rain, and laid his head in her lap. The next wave hit and washed them over the edge. She didn't even want to think what would've happened if she'd waited another ten seconds.

She grabbed the satellite phone and called John. He picked up on the first ring.

“Oh, God, thank you,” she cried. “Come get us!”

“Kit? What's wrong?”

She looked out of the hole in the canvas top and saw the last wave wash Ramsay's boat under. “It sank, John. We're in the life raft. Ramsay's hurt.”

“Where are you?” John was calm and reassuring.

“We were on our way back from Ramsay's cove. I have the flare gun.”

“Wait five minutes, then use it. We won't be long.” He hung up.

Kit started counting. She kissed Ramsay's head and realized she was crying all over him. She got to three hundred, pointed the flare gun outside the canopy, and fired it upward.

Ramsay groaned and moved.

She watched as his eyes fluttered open and never felt happier in her entire life. “You're awake.”

Ramsay glanced from side to side, wincing. “Where am I?”

“We're in the lifeboat. John and Ross are on their way.”

“What?” Ramsay tried to sit up, but she held him in her lap.

“Don't move.”

“Where's my boat?” he growled.

“It's gone.”

He began cussing worse than when he'd found the leak.

“What did you expect me to do?” She laughed, just so glad they hadn't gone down with the boat. “Did you expect me to pull your boat in the life raft with us?”

“What are you smiling at?” He swore again.

She shook her head. “No man who's about to die could swear with this much proficiency.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “But my boat.”

“I know.” She smoothed his hair back from his face. “You've got a hell of a bump going on there.”

A horn blew. Kit unzipped the canopy and looked out. The Armstrong family boat was approaching.

“How is he?” Ross hollered, clearly upset.

“He's spitting mad.”

Ross smiled. “He'll be fine. Can you catch this rope?”

“Yes.” Kit made sure to grab onto the handhold and stretched her other arm out as far as she could. She missed it the first time, but got it on the second try.

After they were towed to the boat, John and Ross helped her on board. Ross climbed down into the raft and with John got Ramsay aboard, too.

“Get him covered up,” John said.

“Aye.” Ross pulled out a space blanket and wrapped it around Ramsay.

All the while Ramsay complained. “Holy hell. I only just got her.”

“'Tis a shame,” Ross consoled. “But you and I know the sea takes what she wants.”

“But I only just got her,” he repeated.

Before Kit knew it, they were back at the dock. Doc MacGregor was there waiting for them.

“Maggie called and said I was needed.”

Doc checked out Ramsay and turned to John. “I think he should have a CT scan. Just to be safe.”

“I'm fine.” Ramsay shoved Ross as he tried to help him up.

“Stop arguing.” John succeeded in pulling Ramsay to his feet. “Ye're as bad as Dand about his bath. Ye'll go to the hospital in Inverness and that's the end of it.”

Harper came running down the dock. When she got to Kit, she pulled her in her arms. “Are you okay?”

“She's grand.” Ross put his arm around the other side of Ramsay. “It's the Skipper who's the clumsy oaf. He's banged his head.”

“You know as soon as I stop seeing two of you that I'm going to kick yere arse.”

Ross laughed. “I'm counting on it, Skipper. I'm counting on it.”

*   *   *

At the quilting dorm, practically all the women of Gandiegow, along with her clients, were waiting when Kit got out of the shower. They had packed themselves into the hallway.

Harper shooed their audience away as she ushered Kit into the bedroom. “Give her some privacy.”

But Deydie pushed herself into the room anyway. “Is she hurt? I need to see for myself.” She yanked on Kit's arm until the old woman could look her in the eyes.

Kit tugged Harper's robe tighter around her body. “I'm fine. Right as rain. Grand, even. Now if only I can put on some underwear.”

Deydie reached up and brushed her cheek. “Aye. But I can see that yere heart is hurting.” She had the decency to say these words quietly enough that only Kit and Harper heard.

Deydie spun around and walked out of the room. “She's fine all right. Now, everyone back to Quilting Central. Let's leave the matchmaker and her sister alone.”

Kit appreciated it. Because now that the elation of being alive had worn off, she felt wrung out, almost unable to take another step.

“Here.” Harper handed her a nightgown. “I'll pour you some hot tea.” She headed toward the door.

“He proposed,” Kit said quietly.

Harper stopped midstep and spun around. “He
what
?”

Kit hung her head. “Proposed. He had a ring. Was down on one knee. The whole nine yards.”

“I hope to high heaven that you had the sense to say yes. No, I hope you said
hell, yes
.”

Kit shook her head. “How could I? I'm responsible for you guys. Everyone is counting on me. I can't get married and live in
Scotland
. And this is home to Ramsay.” Kit waved her arm around, motioning to the town outside the walls. “He'd never leave here. He told me so.”

Harper's gaze zeroed in on her. “What do you mean you're
responsible
for us?”

Kit stared right back. “Who do you think pays the rent and keeps the lights on? What about your tuition?”

“You really should learn to check your messages,” Harper snapped. “Where's your phone?”