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Authors: Vicki Thompson
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work.” Luna warmed to hersubject. She happened to think the staff at Whittier House was top-notch. “It doesn’t matter to her if she’s fixing a sandwich or a seven-course dinner; she always makes everything special.”
“I admire that.” He dug his fork into the potato salad again and paused. “Why haven’t you told Hector about your plan?”
“I’m afraid he would hate it. He loves the seclusion of this island. Creating an inn for Weres would change that. And… ” She hesitated to say the rest, but surely Colin would pick up on it eventually, if he hadn’t already. “I don’t think Hector likes me very much.”
“He’s wary of you.”
She blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“He thinks you’re hiding something.”
A shiver of alarm traveled up her spine. “Does he?”
“That’s what he told me this afternoon. Is he right?”
She could deny it, but if they had even the slightest chance of being business partners, telling flat-out lies wasn’t a great idea. “Is there any of the martini mix left in the shaker?”
The corners of his mouth tilted up. “A wee bit.”
She picked up her glass from the sand and held it out. “Fill me up, Scottie.”
Colin groaned. “Do you have any idea how long my countrymen have had to deal with jokes about
Star Trek
Scottie?”
“A long time?”
“It’s been an eternity.”
“Then I promise never to make another
beam me up
joke in your presence, Your… How am I supposed to refer to you, anyway?”
“I told you.” He emptied the martini shaker into her glass. “Colin is fine.”
“Yes, but if we’re going to capitalize on your Scottishheritage and the obvious Scottish ambiance of Whittier House, then I will be billing this place as the exclusive vacation spot owned by His Supreme High Lairdness, or something to that effect.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “That’s not quite correct.”
“Then what is correct?”
“Colin MacDowell, Laird of Glenbarra.”
“That’s it? No more flourishes?” She liked this change of subject, which directed the conversation away from her secrets and put the focus on Colin.
“You could add
The Most Honored
in front of my name, although I shudder every time I hear that. Too stuffy.”
“But it would suggest elegance, which is what I’d be going for.”
“Then be sure to spell
honour
with a
u
, which is how we do it in Scotland.”
“That’s a great idea.” She shouldn’t start counting her chickens about this inn project, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “I should adopt Scottish spellings for anything printed in connection with the inn. It helps set the tone I was mentioning to you earlier.”
“Right.” He tackled his food again. “The tone that keeps guests from breaking up the furniture.”
“They won’t do that, I promise. I’m very protective of the beautiful things in that house. They meant a lot to Geraldine, and I would want to preserve them for her sake. And for yours, of course.”
“I believe you.” He put down his fork. “I also believe in Hector’s instincts. What aren’t you telling me, Luna?”
Anxiety turned her stomach into a rock tumbler. He’d circled back to the topic, after all. “Everyone has secrets.”
“I suppose so. Apart from me, that is. My life is anopen book. I could probably do with a few more secrets. Maybe I should borrow some of yours.”
“I doubt my secrets would work for you.” No one would look at Colin and peg him for a virgin.
“I can’t help thinking your secrets have something to do with your being celibate all these years.”
There was no help for it. She’d have to give him another piece of the puzzle and hope it didn’t cause more problems for her. “It does, in a way. When I said I’d been on my own a long time, that’s because I literally had no home.”
“There were no packs to take you in?”
She drank more of her martini, seeking courage. “My father, Byron Reynaud, was connected to
“I admire that.” He dug his fork into the potato salad again and paused. “Why haven’t you told Hector about your plan?”
“I’m afraid he would hate it. He loves the seclusion of this island. Creating an inn for Weres would change that. And… ” She hesitated to say the rest, but surely Colin would pick up on it eventually, if he hadn’t already. “I don’t think Hector likes me very much.”
“He’s wary of you.”
She blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“He thinks you’re hiding something.”
A shiver of alarm traveled up her spine. “Does he?”
“That’s what he told me this afternoon. Is he right?”
She could deny it, but if they had even the slightest chance of being business partners, telling flat-out lies wasn’t a great idea. “Is there any of the martini mix left in the shaker?”
The corners of his mouth tilted up. “A wee bit.”
She picked up her glass from the sand and held it out. “Fill me up, Scottie.”
Colin groaned. “Do you have any idea how long my countrymen have had to deal with jokes about
Star Trek
Scottie?”
“A long time?”
“It’s been an eternity.”
“Then I promise never to make another
beam me up
joke in your presence, Your… How am I supposed to refer to you, anyway?”
“I told you.” He emptied the martini shaker into her glass. “Colin is fine.”
“Yes, but if we’re going to capitalize on your Scottishheritage and the obvious Scottish ambiance of Whittier House, then I will be billing this place as the exclusive vacation spot owned by His Supreme High Lairdness, or something to that effect.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “That’s not quite correct.”
“Then what is correct?”
“Colin MacDowell, Laird of Glenbarra.”
“That’s it? No more flourishes?” She liked this change of subject, which directed the conversation away from her secrets and put the focus on Colin.
“You could add
The Most Honored
in front of my name, although I shudder every time I hear that. Too stuffy.”
“But it would suggest elegance, which is what I’d be going for.”
“Then be sure to spell
honour
with a
u
, which is how we do it in Scotland.”
“That’s a great idea.” She shouldn’t start counting her chickens about this inn project, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “I should adopt Scottish spellings for anything printed in connection with the inn. It helps set the tone I was mentioning to you earlier.”
“Right.” He tackled his food again. “The tone that keeps guests from breaking up the furniture.”
“They won’t do that, I promise. I’m very protective of the beautiful things in that house. They meant a lot to Geraldine, and I would want to preserve them for her sake. And for yours, of course.”
“I believe you.” He put down his fork. “I also believe in Hector’s instincts. What aren’t you telling me, Luna?”
Anxiety turned her stomach into a rock tumbler. He’d circled back to the topic, after all. “Everyone has secrets.”
“I suppose so. Apart from me, that is. My life is anopen book. I could probably do with a few more secrets. Maybe I should borrow some of yours.”
“I doubt my secrets would work for you.” No one would look at Colin and peg him for a virgin.
“I can’t help thinking your secrets have something to do with your being celibate all these years.”
There was no help for it. She’d have to give him another piece of the puzzle and hope it didn’t cause more problems for her. “It does, in a way. When I said I’d been on my own a long time, that’s because I literally had no home.”
“There were no packs to take you in?”
She drank more of her martini, seeking courage. “My father, Byron Reynaud, was connected to
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