"I was the youngest ever Clan Chief of Clan Durell. I'd been in the old battles, proven myself fierce and clever and when the old Laird died, I thought I was ready. But I was a young and stupid lad, not ready for the responsibility of the role. I just wanted to fight, drink and bed some bonnie lasses.
“A neighboring clan wanted to forge a stronger alliance by betrothin’ their Lairds eldest daughter to me. It had been a weak alliance anyway; their clan chief had been a brutal hard man that ma own father had loathed to his dying breath. His daughter was just as mean spirited, who used to beat her maids if they braided her hair wrong. All I could see is the rest of ma days spent with this wench, and I selfishly said no. After all, I was Laird, I could choose my own wife, aye?
I nodded but had the feeling that the question had been rhetorical.
"My selfishness cost me the lives of all the clansman, and my immortal soul. If I had nae been so obsessed with my own cock, I would have realized that the McCleary wasnae a man to let go of a slight easily. He stabbed me himself, right down there in the kitchens where I was protecting my sisters and servants. When I awoke, I was staring down at my own dead body, and the town was burning down around me.”
He stared into the flames, and I stared right along with him. I’d wanted to know, but now all I could feel was an overwhelming sadness. I wanted to hug him, but my arms would move straight through his body, so I wrapped them around myself.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, but it was a useless platitude. Durell nodded but remained silent, so I sat on the floor by his feet on the bearskin rug. I curled up into the fetal position and felt its soft fur under my cheek. I really, really needed to get rid of this rug before it blackened my conscience forever.
Durell began to hum a Celtic tune, and he had a beautiful tenor voice. The tune was melancholy, and it suited both our dispositions. My eyes felt heavy as I listened and soon, I was fast asleep.
I stirred to the feeling of someone carrying me to bed. My eyes shot open and I saw Durell’s profile, my head resting against his chest. I shifted a little, trying to climb down. I must weigh a ton. “Dinna fash, lass, ye were cold in front of the fire. I’m just putting ye beneath the covers.”
As he said it, he slid me from his arms onto the bed. I realized he was fully flesh, as I couldn't see the murky outline of things behind him. Despite my better judgement, I reached up and stroked the curve of his jaw. So warm. I don’t know why I expected him to be cold.
His eyes burned down at me with blazing intensity, and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me.
Instead he pulled the covers up to my chin.
“Oidhche mhath,” he whispered.
“Good night, Durell,” I whispered back, but he was already gone.
Chapter Three
For the next week, my thoughts kept turning back to Durell. His story played over and over in my mind. I couldn’t even comprehend living 300 years with the death of everyone I had ever known and loved on my conscience, with no respite in sight. That would be a depressing burden to carry.
I worked in my office, sometimes not coming out for hours at a time. Derek kept popping in, bringing me a cup of coffee, or emails from suppliers and interior decorators. He was attentive, but not annoyingly so. Maybe I just liked his company. He was funny, and smart. And boy was he gorgeous. We’d danced around each other for days, our hands lingering longer than necessary, just so I could feel the thrill that would make my fingertips tingle and get that flutter in my stomach.
After one particularly long meeting, he’d bent forward to kiss me, and I’d had to turn away. It was the hardest thing I’d had to do since I got on the plane to come to Scotland. I’d wanted so badly to kiss him, but I was only hanging on to my professional integrity by the skin of my teeth as it was. I didn’t need to taste that temptation. (I feel like you’ve lost something not using this moment to build up what’s between them)
I tried to turn my attention back to the emails on my laptop, but my mind kept drifting back to Durell’s sad story and my overwhelming attraction to the handsome Derek McTavish and his strong, silent and oh so sexy twin.
Someone knocked at my door, and I straightened in my chair and looked busy. I didn’t want to advertise the fact that I was slacking off at work because I was mooning over a ghost, and lusting after co-workers.
“Come in.”
The object of my daytime fantasies walked into my bedroom holding a large shipping box. He put it down on my bed and strolled over to the fire to stoke it a little. The days were rapidly getting colder, and I was all but living in my down jacket if I left my suite of rooms.
“Derek, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Derek came over to my desk and leaned against in, his delicious firm butt resting on the desktop. He was grinning.
“Funny you should mention pleasure, because that is exactly what’s in the box. I took the opportunity to contact some suppliers of erotic products for samples, and Immortal Kiss just delivered this. I thought we might go through it, see what you think will work in those welcome baskets.”
I eyed the box like it might have been filled with rattlesnakes. I was not ashamed to admit that my sexual exploits had been, well, kind of vanilla. Despite my wanton lusts now I was on Scottish soil, I was usually pretty buttoned up when it came to sex. There must be something in the air this high up that was addling my brain and boosting my libido.
Derek pulled out a pocket knife and unsealed the box. What kind of paraphernalia did people with fetishes even like? I had visions of studded leather paddles and fluffy handcuffs. I was glad for Derek’s input, no matter how embarrassing it might be.
I unfolded the flaps and sifted through the foam packing peanuts. This was like the world’s craziest lucky dip.
The first thing that came out was a vibrator. Well, that was a good start. Vibrators were at least something I had experience in. I opened up the box and pressed the buttons, making the hot pink member pirouette like a prima ballerina. I placed it on the bed and watched in writhe around. Derek stood next to me and stared at it too. It wiggled on the bed like a fish out of water.
“Well, uh, that looks like a quality product,” he choked out. I tried to maintain my best professional face, but it was difficult. Maybe it wasn’t so crash hot that Derek was here. It would have been easier if he’d been a woman.
“Let’s put it in the yes pile,” I reached forward and turned it off. “You’re turn to stick your hand in the glory hole.”