Miss Fairmont and The Gentleman Investigator Read online

  From her pursuers.

  And from Bobby. Because he wasn’t sure how long he could be her companion without touching her blond waves, without losing himself inside her. Completely.

  She broke their staring match and fully pushed open the door, nearly hitting Bobby. Good, maybe he’d angered her enough that she’d stop looking at him with compassion in her eyes and stop speaking to him in that gentle, sweet voice.

  She pulled her door shut before he could do the gentlemanly thing and shut it for her.

  This is best, mate. For everyone.

  He got behind the wheel and steered the car toward her mother’s hometown. She leaned her head back against the seat rest, closed her eyes and turned her face away from him, her blond waves covering her beautiful pale skin.

  He gripped the steering wheel and focused on the road, on getting them to Pitlochry.

  Bugger, this was all wrong. Insanity. He should have put her on a plane to America.

  Why hadn’t he?

  Because he knew she wouldn’t go. Or was it something else? The longing he read in her eyes whenever she spoke of her mother?

  Is that really it, Finn? Or is it your personal desire to spend time with her, bask in the warmth of her gentle energy? He thought about her mood before their shopping trip had gone terribly wrong. She’d been over the moon with everything she had purchased. He’d never known anyone generally happy with life, so open with her thoughts and feelings.

  Bobby protected his feelings beneath an armor of smart-aleck comments and forced laughter. His feelings were ugly and sordid, not to be shared with anyone, ever.

  Except for the one time he’d been arrested by Max. Bobby had fought by completely shutting down, and Max had poked and prodded until Bobby finally had exploded into a mass of pain, all the disappointments of his life tumbling out of his mouth; tears floating down his cheeks.

  That was the second time in his life he’d cried. The first had been after Mum had left him with Uncle Thomas. Bobby had never felt more alone in his life.

  It had been his own fault. He was a bad seed, a worthless big brother.

  But he wasn’t going to be a failure as a detective. Which meant he’d have to keep Grace safe.

  He looked over at her. She’d opened her eyes and was leafing through her mum’s diary.

  “What’s next?” he said.

  She turned to him and her eyes seemed bloodshot. Bastard, had he made her cry?

  He snapped his gaze back to the road.

  “Next?” she questioned.

  “We get to Pitlochry and then what?” he said.

  “We find my family, or rather, Mom’s family. I wouldn’t mind stopping along the way first. Mom wrote about a place in her journal I’d like to see.”

  “Sightseeing,” he muttered.

  “I don’t like this,” she blurted out.

  “Me, either.”

  “I’m referring to you acting like such a jerk.”

  “It’s—”

  “Don’t say it. I don’t believe it’s who you are, Bobby. I think you act like a jerk to keep people away. I’m not going to hurt you. I have no reason to hurt you.”

  But you kissed me. And it wasn’t a simple kiss, a one-nighter kiss. It got to me, shot panic through my nerves. You got through.

  “Bobby?”

  He didn’t respond. What could he say?

  They continued their drive in silence, until she pointed out a spot written about in her mother’s diary. He pulled over and she got out.

  “Are you coming?” she said.

  “I’m fine right here.” He stared out the front windshield.

  She sighed, grabbed the diary and left. He watched her sit down and gaze across Loch Leven at a ruined castle on an island. With hands braced to the ground, she leaned back and soaked up the sunshine.

  He wanted this assignment over, so he could get back to his real work: finding criminals.

  There’s no one I’d rather have watching Miss Fairmont.

  Max might change his mind if he knew how Bobby was struggling to keep this a professional relationship.

  Relationship? Is that what you called it?

  After twenty minutes or so, Grace stood and walked back to the car. Good, they could move on. She got in and shut the door, clearing her throat.

  “It’s just as she’d described it,” she whispered. “She came here with her grandmother once. Mary, Queen of Scots, was imprisoned in the castle. She escaped with help from her jailer’s son who had fallen in love with her.”

  “Shall I drive on?”

  “In a second. I want to savor the moment of being where Mom was. To breathe in the same air.” She glanced at Bobby. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  No? How many times had he wished for the chance to head out to sea, feel the sea air slapping his face as it did his father’s nearly every day of his life?

  “We can go,” she said, readjusting herself to face forward.

  He put the car in gear, a part of him wanting to tell her he did know how she felt, that he knew the ache of wanting to make a connection with someone so badly that you could barely breathe.

  More silence. He couldn’t stand it. He didn’t want to be at odds with Grace. He just didn’t want her getting too close.

  “I think I do understand,” he said.

  “Yeah, then explain to me why I’m so scared.”

  “No one will hurt you, Grace. Not while I’m around.”

  “That’s not what scares me,” she said. “I’m scared to meet them.”

  “Your family?”

  “What if they don’t accept me?”

  “Why wouldn’t they?”

  “I’m American, for one.”

  “That’s not your fault,” he joked. He pulled into town and looked for East Moulin Road.

  “What if they don’t know about me?”

  “Highly unlikely.”

  “Or they don’t…” she hesitated, “…like me.”

  “How could they not? You’re a smart, witty, beautiful girl.” He pulled up a long drive to a rather large bed-and-breakfast owned by her family.

  “Yeah, you’re paid to say things like that.”

  “I’d say them anyway,” he let slip.

  He found a parking spot outside the house.

  “I don’t know, Bobby.” She eyed the house through the front window, nibbling at the side of her lip.

  Bloody hell, he wanted to touch her, chase away whatever fears were making her nervous.

  He got out of the car and opened her door. “It will be fine, Grace. I’m sure they’ll love you.” He smiled and extended his hand.

  She took it and he pulled her out of the car. It was strange how she held on to it as he shut her door and stranger that when he let go she still stayed close.

  He sensed her fear and he understood it. What would his father say to him if he saw him again after all these years? Bobby didn’t want to think about that. He’d failed his family and didn’t need his father’s condemnations to pound that into his soul.

  “I should have called,” she whispered.

  “No, but don’t be alarmed if they’re distant. You don’t know if they know about you, how they felt about your mother’s—” he hesitated and looked into her eyes “—possible involvement with the PIRA.”

  “I know that’s not true. I know it in my heart.”

  “Good. Hold fast to that knowledge. In the meantime,” he said, glancing back at the house, “it’s time to meet your family.”

  “Stay close,” she said.

  “If you wish.”

  “I order. My dad’s paying your salary, remember?” She shot him a nervous smile.

  She started toward the house and he walked alongside her. She slowed as she reached the front door.

  “Steady now,” he whispered. “You’re a brave girl. I know you can do this.”

  She reached out to knock and the door swung wide-open. A young couple breezed past, holding hands and nuzzling one a
nother. Bobby encouraged her to forge ahead.

  They went into the house, and Grace paused in the entryway. Looking around, taking it all in. Bobby assumed she was sensing her mother’s presence here.

  “Hello,” a woman said, walking up to them.

  “Hi, I’m Grace Fairmont. My mother was Mary Logan.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes at Grace and took a step closer. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn around and fly back to America.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Grace’s heart plummeted. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” the older woman hissed.

  “Hold on there,” Bobby said.

  “Lydia!” a woman called, walking into the hallway. “Welcome,” she said, turning her attention to Grace and Bobby. “Did you have a reservation?” She stepped in front of the older woman and gestured for her to leave.

  The woman harrumphed and disappeared into the kitchen, but not without one last sneer. Great. This was a horrible mistake.

  Bobby touched Grace’s shoulder as if he’d read her trepidation, then turned to address the second woman, a redhead who looked to be in her mid-thirties.

  “Miss Fairmont has come from the United States to track down family. Her mother’s last name was Logan?”

  A look of surprise lit the woman’s face. “Your mother? Your mother was Mary Logan? Mary Logan was my aunt. That’s fantastic!” She gave Grace a hug, then stepped back. “I don’t believe it! I never knew my aunt had a daughter. I’m Anne, your cousin. I’m so stunned.”

  Anne had reddish hair, like Mom had had, but other than that, Grace didn’t notice much of a resemblance.

  “Out of nowhere you show up?” Anne said. “How wonderful.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” Grace glanced toward the kitchen.

  “Oh, don’t mind Lydia. She’s a little touched in the head, but she makes delicious cakes. Who’s this, your boyfriend?”

  Grace started to correct her, but thought better of it. How would she explain Bobby’s presence without alarming the family?

  “This is Bobby Finn.”

  “Good to meet you,” he said.

  “Ah, that’s an interesting accent,” Anne commented.

  “Originally from Ireland,” he explained. “Moved to London as a boy.”

  “We met in London, actually,” Grace said. “On business.” Great, she’d just met her new family member and was already lying.

  Bobby smiled at her. “Grace has been talking about visiting her mother’s home town for months now.”

  “And I’m glad you came.” She smiled. “I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around it. You’ll have to forgive me.”

  “I should have warned you,” Grace said.

  “Well, let’s get you two settled so you can rest up from your trip.”

  “May I ask,” Grace started, following Anne to a small office off the main hallway, “are there other family members here? My grandparents?”

  Anne’s dark-green eyes met Grace’s. “I’m sorry, they’re gone. But your Aunt Rosie and Uncle Gerry live here, that’s my mother and father. They run a shop in town and will be back for dinner. She’s going to be so excited to see you.”

  “Thanks.” Grace glanced at the artwork on the walls. “My mom lived here?”

  “She did, yes. When she wasn’t in Ireland.”

  Grace sensed something in the woman’s voice.

  Anne pulled a key from the top drawer of her desk. “We can catch up on all that later. I’ve got a cousin from America,” Anne said, awe in her voice. “Let’s get you settled. Have you got luggage?”

  “I’ll get it,” Bobby offered.

  “Meet us upstairs,” Anne directed, then motioned for Grace to join her.

  Grace started up the stairs and heard the door to the kitchen creak open. She spotted Lydia peeking through the doorway. The woman did not like her. Not one bit.

  But she didn’t even know Grace. Maybe it was resentment about Mom. She must have been a handful growing up.

  “Your mother lived here until her twenty-second birthday, then she went to America to find the man of her dreams,” Anne said.

  “My father.”

  “We received a postcard periodically. Then nothing. Then we were notified of her death in London. It didn’t make sense, why she was back in the country and we hadn’t heard from her. Grandmother never quite got over that.”

  I haven’t gotten over the fact I lost my mother, seemingly before she was killed.

  “You have no idea why she came back?” Grace pushed.

  “I’m not much for gossip.”

  “Gossip?”

  “Here’s your room.” Anne paused at a door and stuck the key in the lock. She shot Grace a sympathetic smile. “There were rumours about your mum’s involvement with a radical group. But your mother’s gone. We should all move on.”

  If only Grace could.

  Anne opened the door and Grace stepped inside a room decorated in Victorian style, with lace pillow covers and flowered curtains.

  And one bed.

  Luckily it had a private bath, so she wouldn’t be stuck in a bathroom down the hall with the lights out again. No, she’d be stuck sharing a room with Bobby Finn.

  “I’ll leave you to rest up,” Anne said. “I’d love to stay and chat but I have rooms to ready for today’s new guests. I keep this one reserved for special friends.” She smiled and gave Grace another hug. “I’ll check back when I can. Supper isn’t until seven, so why not take a walk down to the village, or drive out to the Pass of Killiecrankie? We’ll catch up later. The family will be so excited to meet you.”

  “Thanks,” Grace said, suddenly hating her mid-western accent.

  Anne left and minutes later there was a knock.

  “Room service,” Bobby called through the door.

  Graced opened the door and he stepped into the room carrying the luggage. “Nice room,” he said.

  “I guess you expect a tip?” she joked.

  “No, just loan me a pillow from your bed, and maybe a blanket if you can spare one.”

  She went to the window and hugged herself. Glancing across the rolling countryside, she wondered which room Mom had slept in. Had she walked the green hills that seemed to stretch for miles? Grace loved being outside basking in sunshine. Was she like her mother in that respect?

  “You can keep your pillows,” Bobby said, walking up to her. “I’m sure they have extras.”

  She glanced at him. “No, it’s fine. You can have whatever you need.”

  What Grace needed was to have Bobby’s arms around her right now to absorb some of his strength.

  She could use a friend.

  Bobby would quickly become more than that, she sensed. He’d already lit something inside her that had made her kiss him a few hours ago. If he got too close she was going to do it again.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” he said. His soft brown eyes grew dark, more intense.

  “Like what?” she said.

  “You know like what.”

  “I’m sorry.” She ripped her gaze from his and hugged herself tighter. “I guess it’s all these emotions flooding to the surface. Being in Mom’s home.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. She leaned into him, as she’d wanted to before, welcoming his strength to hold her up. Because, right now, she was dangerously close to dissolving into a puddle on the floor.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Everything.”

  “Your cousin seems nice.”

  “It still doesn’t feel right.”

  “Maybe it never will,” he said. “Maybe it’s not meant to feel ‘right.’”

  “That’s a depressing thought.”

  He stepped back and turned her to face him. “Things are rarely what you anticipate them being. They just are what they are, and you’ve got to make the best of it.”

  “A philosopher cop? Nice.”

  He smiled. “Since the res
t of the family won’t get back until later, we have all afternoon to go exploring. That will cheer you up.”

  “Mom wrote about the Pass of Killiecrankie in her journal.”

  “I’ll take you there. We could both use the fresh air, then we’ll head back for a nap. You’ll need a rest before meeting the entire family. Boyfriends know best.” He winked.

  “About that, sorry I didn’t correct her.”

  “Quick thinking on your part. You’re catching on.”

  “That’s what worries me. I’m turning into a liar and a flirt.”

  “No, just a lost girl looking for answers.”

  A girl who wants you for more than protection.

  Damn, she really was an emotional mess. She didn’t like having to lean on Bobby Finn. He’d made it clear he had no feelings for her, that their kiss was a result of her “throwing herself at him.”

  The strange thing was, she’d never felt like that when kissing Steven or anyone else, for that matter.

  “I’m going to wash up,” he said. “You’ll be okay?”

  Sheesh, he was afraid she’d fall apart in the few minutes it took him to wash his hands?

  “I’m fine.” She turned and glanced out the window. He went to the bathroom and shut the door.

  She was an emotional mess, sure, but worse, she was depending too heavily on a man again, and this time it was a man who’d be out of her life the moment they landed in the States.

  She’d been a good girl her entire life, listened to Dad and followed his suggestions. Her relationship with Steven had fallen into the same pattern. Sure, she cared about him, but it was becoming apparent that she needed him as her touchstone, her stability.

  From the window Grace watched Lydia toss garbage out back. The older woman glanced up at Grace, but Grace didn’t step away or avoid her gaze. She would not be shamed by this woman. Whatever sins her mother had committed as a teenager didn’t belong to Grace.

  Lydia pursed her lips; her brows knit together in a sad, almost regretful expression. Then she started walking toward a barn on the far side of the property. About halfway, she turned and motioned with her hand for Grace to join her.

  Did she dare?

  She’d talk to anyone to get answers. Maybe then she could put the pieces together, figure out why Mom had left and what she was really like as a woman.