Scotland for Christmas. Cathryn Parry
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he said in a low voice. “You need to go to Vermont. You’re expected there.”
She held herself tighter around her midsection. He was right, but for some reason his words made her angry. The rough corduroy barn coat she’d worn for her adventure to New England was suddenly too much—she felt hot and suffocated. She couldn’t fake a good mood or be reasonable right now.
“Take me to my room,” she said, her voice rising.
“Isabel...” Jacob’s voice turned gentler, the gruffness softened. It didn’t match those rough hands.
She wiped a tear that had escaped. “Drive, I said!”
He obeyed. No words or excuses, he just checked the side window and then carefully pulled into the street.
Of course, a traffic light changed to red and they had to wait. A long, painful, silent wait. She stared at her hands clutched in her lap. Her mind was racing, and she couldn’t stop it.
What if she did go to the wedding and she couldn’t control her emotions? What if she cried or raged in front of everybody? Her uncle? Malcolm? Her cousins? What if they blamed her for him leaving? What if she’d made a mistake in coming forward to ask her uncle to be named CEO after him, instead of her cousin Malcolm, who, until now, had always been thought of as the heir apparent?
Scenarios flashed of her uncle shaking his head at her, while everyone else was happy and paired up, celebrating committed love, except her. Her mind was running ahead, wanting to think through everything all at once, needing to process the best way to salvage this situation. She just didn’t see one.
Stay in New York for the weekend and compose herself, or go to Vermont and risk exposing herself? They were both potentially bad decisions for her, each with their downsides and risks. And if Jacob showed pity for her over this predicament she found herself in—that she’d made for herself—then she didn’t know what she would do.
She might have to jump out of the SUV and walk back to her room on her own.
* * *
JACOB COULD NOT let Isabel go back to her room. No matter how bad he felt about making her attend that wedding, he needed to remain hard and professional. He needed Isabel to stay in the SUV so that he could drive her to Vermont and meet John Sage.
He glanced at her, pale and trembling in the seat beside him. This was killing him. She was upset, and she’d proven herself to be a woman who didn’t normally get upset. She was mortified about losing her composure in front of him. He didn’t like it, either. But in two minutes, they would be in front of her residence hall, and if he didn’t do something fast, she would be out the door and gone before he had the chance to help himself.
He looked at her, one hand on the door. She was getting ready to bolt. He needed to convince her to stay. But he wasn’t used to talking with those he protected. He was trained for the opposite, in fact.
He’d gently put her in the front seat with him rather than the rear seat, and that was bad enough.
His hand tightened on the wheel. He felt for her, he really did. He’d been in her shoes once. But he wasn’t going to breathe a word of that.
At the next light, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Now what? What could make her want to go to that wedding? If he could just get her to trust him to take her there. To trust that the best thing for her would be to stand tall. Screw the boyfriend.
“You’re better off,” he said abruptly.
She looked startled. “What?”
Damn. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. “Nothing.”
“You listened to us back there?”
Damn again. Jacob scrubbed his hand over his head. “I had to be sure you were safe.”
She looked even more upset with that explanation, so he changed course, even taking off his sunglasses in hopes of making the situation better. “I’ll never say a word to anyone about what you say or do in my presence. Not even to the people who hired me.”
He glanced at her. She was listening. She was open to him.
“Do you promise?” she asked in a low voice.
“Yes. Absolutely.” He nodded. Here was a key to Isabel Sage—she didn’t want anybody to know her private business. He got that.
He ran a hand across his mouth. What was it that Alex had said to her? You’ll run your uncle’s company someday. No doubt you’ll be the one chosen. If Jacob had to bet, Isabel was in competition with her cousin. Malcolm, the groom. Her goal to be chosen as leader obviously meant a great deal to her.
“Here’s what my instructions are,” Jacob said. “The only thing I have to report to my dispatcher is if our plans change. In that case, I’ll need to call in the updated itinerary.” He stared steadily at her. “So if you decide not to go north, then I’ll have to call and tell them you’re not coming. From there, that information will immediately be reported to the employer—your uncle.”
“Can you please not do that?” she whispered.
The plea seemed to pierce him directly in the breastbone.
“I’d just...rather make the phone calls myself,” she said. Tears were leaking again.
This was horrible. He hated to see her cry.
“He’s not worth it,” Jacob snapped.
She blinked. His words had come out harsher than he’d intended. She turned in her seat, her expression telling him she was obviously going to stick up for the bastard ex-boyfriend.
“You don’t understand!” she said with more passion than he’d given her credit for.
“I think I do understand. Your boyfriend showed up unannounced as if he were doing you a favor. He got you all happy to see him, and then he dumped you, right before you’re scheduled to go and do something that’s clearly important to your future, so now he’s affected your ability to perform the way you need to. But he trots off anyway, feeling not only satisfied with himself, but as if he’s a hero, when in reality he’s the exact damn opposite.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What planet do you come from? How can you assume all that?”
“I can assume it because it’s true. Isn’t it?”
“It’s not all his fault.”
“You feel guilty?” he demanded. “You?” Jacob’s voice shook with anger he hadn’t expected.
He was going to make this worse if he didn’t calm down.
* * *
ISABEL DIDN’T KNOW what she was feeling. All she knew was that Jacob seemed furious on her behalf. It was...shocking.
And a wee bit flattering.
She bit her lip and stared at the red light—yet another one, Jacob seemed to be attracting each and every stop along their route—and tried not to look at him.
“How long were you two a couple?” His voice was so low she had to strain to hear him. “Were you engaged?”
Should she answer? He seemed as if he was on her side. He seemed...to intrinsically believe in her.
“Sort of,” she whispered. “I mean...” She glanced at him. His eyes were warm and understanding. She really felt as though she could trust him.
But this was madness. She’d only just met him and she was a Sage—she couldn’t trust outsiders. This fact had been hammered into her head growing up.
“Please take me home, Jacob.”
His jaw tightened. He stared harder at her.
“Take. Me. Home,” she repeated.
He