Among the Heather (The Highlands, #2)

I followed Sarah into the utility room and slid the bucket onto a counter. “Have you got this?”

“Of course, Ms. Howard. Thank you for your help.” Her eyes held mine for once and I was surprised to realize they were a beautiful green. Not mossy green like mine but a striking jade green, clear and startlingly pretty.

“You’re welcome.” I gave her a kind smile, and her gaze lowered with shyness again. It was a shame she hid like that, but I knew a little something about wanting to hide.

Thoughts of Sarah disappeared as I hurried toward the secure room where we kept spare key cards. It was time to boot North Hunter out of the Bruce Suite. At least for a few hours so we could clean the place. I worried about what I’d find in there.

“Ms. Howard?” Walker Ironside stood slowly from the table of monitors. Another security guard accompanied him. “What can we do for you?”

Walker had joined Ardnoch a year ago when Brodan Adair, Lachlan’s brother, retired from Hollywood. Walker had been his bodyguard. In that time, he’d fallen in love with Sloane, and only a few months ago he took a bullet to the gut trying to protect her from a man hired to kill her for the inheritance left by her father. It was a scandal still being discussed in the media. At six foot five, Walker was a rugged, intimidating specimen who worshipped Sloane and adored her daughter Callie. For that reason alone, he was kind of my favorite among the staff. But I’d never let that show. He was also stubborn and insisted on returning to work as soon as possible. I’d demanded he return to reduced duties only until he was fully healed. Sloane thanked me for that.

“I need the spare key card for the Bruce Suite.”

Understanding crossed Walker’s face. “Would you like me to accompany you? Perhaps I can talk to North?” So everyone knew the actor was holed up in there, huh? I guessed Walker felt he owed North for helping him stop Byron Hoffman from hurting Sloane all those months ago. However, I worried that the feeling of gratitude would make Walker too soft on the guy. North Hunter needed a firm hand in this.

“I can handle it,” I promised him.

“Of that, I have no doubt.” Walker’s mouth curled at the corners. Before Sloane, I’d never seen the brooding Scot smile. Since her, he’d melted a little. The first time I saw him grin at Sloane, I nearly fainted with surprise … and a small amount of envy. It must be spectacular to have someone love you so much that you change them for the better. Make their world a world worth smiling for.

Dismissing a pang of longing, I thanked Walker once he handed me the key and then I strode in the direction of the staff elevator. Determination rode that elevator with me.

The Bruce Suite was on the second floor and was one of our best rooms. Its windows faced the North Sea, and it comprised a large bedroom, a small sitting room with a writing desk beneath the window, and a luxurious en suite.

I dreaded to think what state it was in.

Attempting diplomacy, I knocked hard on the door. When no answer was forthcoming, I rang the doorbell. Not even a whisper of a footstep. I rang the doorbell again.

“Go away!” a belligerent male voice yelled from inside.

Charming.

“Mr. Hunter, it’s Aria Howard. Please open the door.”

No answer.

“Mr. Hunter!”

His muffled “Piss aff!” heated my skin with indignation.

I swiped the key card and strode inside, letting the door slowly shut behind me. Blinking against the dim light spilling in through the half-closed curtains, I allowed my eyes to adjust.

“Whit part eh piss aff dae ye no understand?”

My eyes moved over the unmade bed, the half-eaten sandwich molding on the bedside table, the clothes strewn everywhere … to North. He was slumped in an armchair in the sitting room, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers. He was also only wearing pajama trousers. They hung low on his hips as his legs sprawled out, and I noted the carved definition of his obliques. North didn’t have massive broad shoulders and bulging biceps. But I was momentarily stunned to notice the hardest six-pack I’d ever seen in my life. The man looked sculpted from stone, not an inch of fat on him. Surprising, considering the amount of alcohol he’d consumed this week.

“Did ye jist come here tae leer at me?” He slurred his words, his eyes low-lidded as he watched me like I was prey. His accent was so thick, I could barely understand him. But I understood enough.

The smell of stale beer and sweat filtered into my nostrils, and I grimaced. “I came here to ask you to vacate the room so we can clean it.”

North scoffed. “Dae ye no mean so the wee maids can get in tae clean it? Ah doubt ye even wipe yer ain arse.”

“Housekeepers, not maids,” I answered stiffly, not responding to his last comment. Striding past the bed toward the window, I could feel him watching me as I reached for the curtains and drew them open in jerky, annoyed movements.

“Fuck!” he snarled, and I turned to see he’d dropped the beer bottle, which was thankfully empty. North covered his eyes. “Get oot ma room, ye she-divil!”

I smirked, taking malicious pleasure in his discomfort. “You are incredibly Scottish when you’re drunk. Did you know that?”

He blinked rapidly, somehow scowling at the same time. “Ah’ll gee ye incredibly fuckin’ Scottish, ye pain in the utter arsehole. Gee a man some warnin’ before ye burn his fuckin’ retinas aff.”

“It’s called daylight.” I swiped up clothes as I wandered around the musty space. “You should try walking around in it. Sober. But first, take a shower. You smell as bad as the room.” Dumping his clothes at the door for housekeeping to collect, I said, “We’ll wash and dry-clean these for you. Do you have anything to wear in the meantime?”

“Who needs clothes?”

I glanced back at the sullen purr in his voice. It wasn’t anger in his eyes but something else. Tension stiffened my spine. “This isn’t a nudist resort, Mr. Hunter. Clothes are a requirement.”

“C’mon.” He winked at me as he patted his abs. “Ah saw ye lookin’. Ye prefer me naked. Admit it.”

Oh, dear God. “I’d shut up before you say something you regret.”

“Maybe Ah’ll shut up if ye shut up with me. If ye get ma drift.” He winked.

“I’m going to pretend I don’t.”

“Because ye think am beneath ye?”

Surprised by the bitterness in his tone, I huffed. “Absolutely not. But I do think right now you’re acting like a self-indulgent playboy wallowing in self-pity. Take a shower, get dressed, and go for a walk.” I turned to stride toward his door but was startled at the sound of hard footsteps behind me. As I glanced over my shoulder, I saw North was almost upon me, and I spun to face him, eyebrows raised. Nervousness skittered down my spine, but I lifted my chin, not letting him think for one second he intimidated me.

Beer reeked from his pores, and I wrinkled my nose. Just how drunk was he?