Cathryn Parry - Scotland for Christmas

They threaded through some pretty parkways that would connect to another major route, Route 91 in Connecticut, and then all the way north to Vermont. For too long, Isabel had been cooped up in the city, bound to her work. She had barely left her campus or residence hall, unless as part of her studies.

Two years ago, during student orientation, she’d been part of a group that had toured the stock market and watched the famous ringing of the bell, and another week, had walked through Central Park. She’d even toured the museums one rare Sunday.

But since classes had started, she’d never veered from the work it took to earn her degree. This was a fresh way to start over with a renewed attitude.

“How is it that you know your way around the countryside so easily?” she asked Jacob.

“This is Connecticut.” He shrugged. “I have family here.”

“You grew up here?”

He gave a tight nod. “I did.”

Such a different world. A different life. They shared a common language, but the States seemed so much more complicated and larger than what she was used to.

Louder, faster, more crowded. Their course through Jacob’s home territory changed to a gently rolling two-lane motorway with no lorries, only cars, and then again to a larger motorway. Jacob stayed in the left lane most of the drive north. He used a GPS, as she liked, though he kept the radio off. He drove carefully, not recklessly, but he didn’t fear speed traps.

They saw several pulled-over motorists with police officers in cars, issuing tickets.

“Yeah, that’s Connecticut,” Jacob mentioned with a smile.

“We tend to follow the rules in Scotland. Nobody likes to get fined.”

“That’s not a problem I have very often, being in law enforcement,” he replied.

She’d almost forgotten his profession. With each passing mile, rather than feeling anxious over going someplace new, someplace she was unsure how to act in, she felt calmer in his presence.

“There’s a rest stop up ahead,” he said. “I’m going to pull in. There are facilities and vending machines, but if you’d rather sit down to eat, there’s a better place about an hour up the road.”

“You know this route to Vermont well. Do you drive it often?”

He smiled slightly, as if to himself. “I haven’t been in Vermont since college, on a ski weekend.”

“We have skiing in Scotland, too,” she remarked.

He glanced at her. Those two frown lines were between his eyes again. “Do you live in Edinburgh?”

Was he asking if she was a city girl? She did live in the city, but during this drive through Connecticut, seeing all the trees again and the rolling hills, she was getting a bit homesick for the country.

“I have a flat in Edinburgh. I work in the corporate headquarters for my family’s company. But I grew up in the Highlands.”

Near Inverness. She felt a stab of nostalgia for the deep blue lochs, the glens, the relative ease with which one could drive past castles from east to west, North Sea to Irish Sea.

Jacob was staring at her.

“How much longer until Vermont?” she asked politely.

He laughed. “We’re not even in Massachusetts yet. We have two more state lines to cross.”

She took it to mean they had a lot more time to spend together in their cocooned, rolling world. That made her smile. And she didn’t have to fake it.

* * *

JACOB HAD PLANNED out the route already, days ago. He knew where each stop was that they would make. Nothing would be left to chance. This was how he worked, how he was trained.

And yet, he’d never had a protectee like Isabel.

She’d thrown him off balance yet again.

For one thing, she sat up front with him. For the past hour, she’d been toying with the satellite radio. She was putting on music that messed with his head. ʼ70s on 7, the station was called.

All kinds of old pop music that had played in their apartment back when he was a kid—just him and his mom, together in New York City. Sometimes even years later, alone in the new house in Connecticut with Daniel—Jacob’s stepdad—she would cry silently over those old songs when Daniel wasn’t around. She never told Jacob why, but he didn’t need to ask.

There were some things he wasn’t ever supposed to ask. They only caused sadness and silence. Daniel was a calm, levelheaded guy. He hated conflict in the home, and Jacob’s mom shared that aversion.

Jacob ran his hand through his hair. He was thinking all these things just because they were driving through the state where he’d lived in his teens. He’d learned every inch of this place like the back of his hand, but especially the tristate area: southern Connecticut, New York City metro and northern New Jersey.

They were traveling away from what he knew and toward the unknown—Isabel’s family wedding.

There was still so much he didn’t know about the Sage family. Normally, he would take the opportunity to quiz Isabel about her uncle, her cousins, the kidnapping—everything he needed to know for his job. Somehow, though, she had a tendency to answer him in such a way that he ended up being the one in emotional danger.

Just when he thought he had her figured out, she shocked him into realizing he was in completely new territory.

He glanced over at her. The woman was...well, she was obviously beautiful, but it was her vulnerability that he found most interesting—the real Isabel, not the one who was so poised on the surface. He didn’t know much about how most women thought—he’d only lived with Rachel for those few weeks—but watching Isabel in action, he’d been reminded of that bathroom drawer of makeup that he’d emptied once Rachel had decided to take up with her investment banker.

Isabel had fixed her smeared mascara back at their first rest stop. Brought in that huge bag of hers and had reemerged, poised again as if nothing had happened.

There was a lot she kept hidden behind the polite smile she showed the world. The crazy part was that he really did want to protect her. He wanted to keep her safe from ever crying again, especially over that idiot who’d flown in from Scotland just to dump her.

But at the same time, it would be reckless to forget she was the enemy of sorts.

She was part of the family he meant to discover more about, and without their knowing he was doing it or why. That would bring complications. He had to be careful. The only reason Isabel hadn’t ditched him so far was that he’d been on his best behavior.

He scowled to himself. He wasn’t usually so friendly and open to people, not by a long shot. He did his job with a minimum of words. Silent protection. And he did it well; nobody got hurt or killed on his watch. He didn’t accomplish that by being buddies with the VIPs.

But Isabel wanted Jacob to be pleasant, right along with her.

“Will we be seeing some of that famous New England foliage?” she asked him as they passed north into Massachusetts.

“No. I think we’re too late for that.”

“A pity. I regret that I never made time to see it. It’s supposed to be brilliant.”

“Ah...” Jacob rarely made time, either. “The leaves turn red and yellow in the city, as well, but you’re right, there’s nothing like the vividness of the mountains in Vermont and New Hampshire.”

“Then I’ll have to make plans for another year, maybe.” She smiled sleepily at him. “I’ll have to come back and do it right the next time I’m here.”

He doubted she’d ever be back.

He let out a breath. She had a scent that filled his SUV. Shampoo, or soap, or some kind of shower gel that just...smelled good.

Made him want to move closer to her, though he would never actually do it.

She had long limbs, too, long legs that filled the bucket seat, crossed at the ankle of her tall leather boots. She had slender fingers, the nails clipped short, unpainted. He liked that.