“Och, I’m just teasing.” We stopped at double doors that required a key card. Mac was in one of the best suites in the castle, in the east wing, which had added security for privacy. The card unlocked the doors, and Jock pushed one open, gesturing for me to go ahead.
“Thanks.”
As we fell into step again, he said, “I have a wee boy, Adam, and a fiancé. William.”
Lucky William. “I shouldn’t have assumed ‘wife.’ Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he assured me.
“Did you guys adopt?”
“No.” We drew to a stop outside Mac’s door.
“I’m being nosy. Again, I’m sorry.”
“Not at all.” Jock stood, his hands behind his back, stance wide. It was the alert-bodyguard pose that seemed to be his natural resting position. “When we moved to Ardnoch, I met my ex, Kayla, on a night out in Inverness. We dated, she got pregnant, she had Adam, we broke up … and Will moved to Ardnoch. He’s an artist. I fell in love with his work first.” Jock shrugged with that lazy, gorgeous smile of his. “Then I couldn’t deny how I felt about him.”
He was being lighthearted with a woman he barely knew, and I understood. However, there was a slight shadow behind his happiness that made me wonder how hard the road to admitting he was gay had been for him, and why.
“Does your little boy stay with you?”
“Full time.” Jock’s eyes glittered with utter love. “He’s amazing. Hilarious. I highly recommend procreation.”
I laughed but didn’t ask why he had Adam full time. None of my business. “Maybe one day.” Who knew? I always imagined I’d have kids, but only if I was as madly in love with a guy the way Jaz loved Autry. Not everyone got to have that, though. In fact, as far as I could tell, lots of people settled for less than what they wanted, deserved, or needed.
Even my mom with Seth to an extent. While he’d been a wonderful stepfather, their relationship had been tumultuous over the years. As I grew older and put the pieces together, I often questioned if my mom lost a piece of her heart to a boy who’d seemed so much more like a man than he actually was. A boy who’d broken her heart in a different way from how he’d broken mine.
“It’s good you’re here.” Jock surprised me. “I’m glad you’re here for Mac.”
Unexpected emotion prickled my eyes.
He was the first person since I’d arrived to say those words to me. Everyone else, except for Lucy, had regarded me with suspicion; their concern for Mac trumped the feelings of a strange woman, an outsider.
“Thank you, Jock.”
“Thought someone should say it.” There was a note of censure in his voice, and I liked to imagine it was aimed at Lachlan.
I beamed at my father’s colleague as he knocked on Mac’s door and waited for him to call us in.
Jock didn’t follow me. Just nodded at me as he opened the door, and I gave him another smile in thanks. The door closed and I found myself standing in Mac’s suite, offering a different smile to my father.
He was here and alive and safe.
A massive bed sat in the middle of the room and didn’t even begin to take up space. Light spilled through an enormous bay window into the king-size room. Pale velvet curtains draped the window, and a light oak desk was situated beneath it.
There was a living area on a lowered level of the floor several steps down. More light spilled in from more windows on the same side as the bay window. A TV once sat in the living area, but Lachlan had a few guys come in and move the TV cabinet up into Mac’s bedroom so it was directly opposite the bed.
The color palette was different in this room than in Lachlan’s. More feminine. But I could see why he’d put Mac in here. All the silvers and champagnes gave the room a much more tranquil, restful feel than the heavy, traditional reds and golds found elsewhere in the castle.
“Are you just going to stare at me?” Mac teased.
“You look well.” I approached the bed, holding up the brown bag in my hands. “Roast beef and pickle sandwich from Morag’s. Times two.”
His expression brightened. “Hand it over, you darling girl.”
I chuckled. “Should I call for refreshments?”
“Mini fridge.” Mac pointed to the sideboard adjacent to his bed. “Inside the cupboard closest to me.”
I pulled up an armchair next to his bed, kicked off my shoes, and propped up my legs. Once settled, we ate in companionable silence.
During our last real conversation, I’d confessed about the shooting and that I technically died on the operating table and had to be resuscitated.
While I still had a lot to learn about Mac, I knew he wasn’t hiding his distress or anger that he hadn’t been informed. He didn’t voice his emotions, though. He’d just clamped his lips tight and seethed.
It seemed neither of us was very good at admitting how we really felt, even though it was pretty damn obvious.
Thankfully, Mac didn’t seem to hold a grudge. I’d asked him not to share what I’d told him with anyone. It wasn’t something I could easily talk about, and I didn’t want someone like Lachlan, for instance, throwing it into conversation.
I swallowed the last of my sandwich and settled my hands on my stomach. “I ran into McCulloch at Morag’s.”
Mac raised a questioning eyebrow, so I relayed the icy conversation with the ill-tempered farmer.
“That’s nothing. He’s said similar to me and everyone who would listen for years.”
“Well, I found it threatening.”
My father scowled. “Then I’ll be having words with the old bastard.”
“No.” I shook my head, lifting my legs off the bed to lean toward him. “I mean, the exact wording, the tone … it was very suspicious.”
“McCulloch didn’t stab me. The guy was at least five inches shorter than McCulloch. And younger.”
“How can you tell he was younger?”
“The way he moved.”
Understanding, I nodded, contemplating this. “Does McCulloch work alone? Or does he have farmhands? Grandsons? Anyone who might fit the description of your attacker?”
“I think he’s estranged from his only grandson. He’s worked his farm with Ross Inch for years, and Ross is closer to his age.”
I sighed and sat back in my chair. “Now that the estate’s security system is secure, the likelihood of another incident here is slim. And we have no concrete evidence from the other ones.”
Mac snorted. “You want something else to happen?”
“No, of course not. But without another incident, there is no chance for this person to slip up, and our chances of finding them grow slimmer.”
We contemplated each other in silence for a few seconds.
Then Mac asked, “Have you ever seen a stalker case before?”
“I was called out to a situation that turned into a case. Obviously, I wasn’t on it, but I kept an interest in it. A Boston socialite, Erica Reeves. A stalker. Turned out it was a shop worker in her favorite boutique in Back Bay. Developed an obsession with her. Did all kinds of nasty shit. Took months before he slipped up and left evidence. Got a warrant to run his DNA. Forensics matched him to sperm deposits he’d left inside gifts for her. Was arrested, got a few months. Waited awhile after he was out … eventually attempted to kidnap her. Thankfully, her security team caught him, but what they found in his car …” I shuddered just thinking about what he’d planned to do to her.