He patted his friend’s shoulder and repeated, “I’m sorry.”
He found he didn’t at all like the thought of Robyn breaking down. Feeling terrible for them both, Lachlan admitted apologetically, “I don’t know what else to say.”
“Nothing to say,” Mac assured him. “I explained my part, my blame, but I took your advice and told her about the letters. I gave her the key to my cottage so she could collect them.”
“Good. That’s good, Mac. She’ll read those, and they’ll bring her a bit of peace. I’m certain you’ll be able to move on from this. Finally.”
“Aye, we’ll see. And if we do … well, how do I be a dad to a woman who is almost thirty? She doesn’t need me anymore.”
Mac hadn’t described a woman who didn’t need her father anymore. “I think we both know that’s not true. Robyn acts tough, but you’re obviously her Achilles’ heel. She still needs you to protect her soft spot.”
His friend stopped, turning his body toward Lachlan.
Lachlan followed suit so they faced one another.
Tension knit across his shoulders at the look in Mac’s eyes.
“Do I need to protect her from you?” he asked.
Fuck.
Lachlan shifted uncomfortably. “Mac, come on.”
“You think I don’t know what you look like when you want a woman? I’ve been with you for nearly two decades.”
“I can’t talk to you about this.”
“What? That you’re attracted to my daughter?”
“When you say it, it makes me sound like a perverted old man. She’s twenty-eight.”
Tense silence fell between them, and Lachlan forced himself to maintain eye contact. He felt like a little boy caught stealing sweets out of his mum’s chocolate cupboard. Except this was obviously much worse.
Finally, Mac sighed. “You can have anyone, Lachlan. I’m not going to tell you not to go there because I don’t feel I have the right to. But think carefully before you do it. Because if it goes south and you hurt her and she needs me and wants me to pick a side … I won’t let her down this time. I will choose my daughter.”
Understanding dawned, and it was cold. A shiver skated down Lachlan’s neck despite the gentle warmth of the spring sun. He nodded. There was no way he would lose his friend over a woman. Lachlan was closer to Mac than he was to two of his siblings. An attraction wasn’t worth losing him.
Lachlan pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed security.
“What are you doing?” Mac scowled.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone. Or did you forget you’re recovering from a knife attack?”
His friend rolled his eyes but didn’t argue as Lachlan asked Jock where Mac’s chaperone was. There was supposed to be security outside Mac’s room at all times, which he sternly reminded his employee.
Not too long later, it was Jock himself who came out to escort Mac.
“I feel like a bloody child,” Mac grumbled.
No, just someone Lachlan would do anything to protect. Someone he wouldn’t lose.
As he marched inside to return to work, he saw the leaflet for the village ceilidh someone had left on the coffee table in the main reception. The ceilidh was held at the Gloaming a few weeks after Easter to celebrate Ardnoch’s anniversary. Although the town dated back a thousand years, it became a royal burgh in 1630. That was the date the villagers used to celebrate. This year they were celebrating its 391st anniversary as a royal burgh.
Lachlan stared down at the leaflet. He attended the ceilidh every year because it was his duty to represent Ardnoch Castle and the Adairs. Arrochar also attended, and Thane if he could get a babysitter. Even some of his members attended when they felt like it.
Thinking it a fine excuse for a distraction from a certain American, Lachlan pulled out his phone and dialed a number he hadn’t thought he’d be dialing again anytime soon.
After four rings, she picked up. “Hello, stranger.”
Lachlan smiled at the teasing tone of Leighanne’s voice. Good. She wasn’t pissed off with him, then. “How are you?”
“I’m well. Busy.”
He frowned. “Too busy to visit Ardnoch?”
She hesitated. “Visit Ardnoch?”
“I don’t know about you, but I could do with some stress relief this weekend.”
She laughed. “I see.”
“And there’s a ceilidh here on Saturday. Why don’t you come as my date? It’s all good fun. Free food and booze and then great sex afterward.”
“You are a cocky one,” Leighanne said, chuckling. “I’m sold. What time do you want me there?”
ROBYN
Exhaustion weighed my limbs down, but I got to Ardnoch without driving the SUV off the road. This time, I drove to the mews, and Fergus came out to greet me.
In no mood for small talk, I did my best because he was such a jolly, friendly guy. We’d only spoken a few times, but every single time meant I pushed him further down my suspect list. He seemed devoted to the Adairs, appreciative of his job, which he loved, and that put a great big dent in his possible motive.
Unlike someone else.
“You look tired,” Fergus said, brows pinched. “You all right?”
“Fine. Just a long night in a trailer during a storm.”
He winced sympathetically. “I lived in a caravan for a while. It’s not so nice during bad weather. You should find somewhere else to stay. Somewhere safer in storms. That is … if you’re going to be here a while?”
I shrugged a non-answer, thanked him, and walked out of the mews and down the gravel drive. It hadn’t been just the weather that kept me awake all night. I hated to admit it, but I was too unnerved to sleep. Keeping the lights blazing through the trailer to ward off anyone who thought they could get the jump on me, I’d sat at the dining table instead. And I pored over the contents of the box I’d retrieved from Mac’s.
Once I started reading the letters, I couldn’t have slept if I’d wanted to. Most of the letters were short updates on his life. He told me about the places he visited with Lachlan; he shared funny stories about famous people but changed their names so I wouldn’t know who he was talking about. Just like when I was a little girl, I found myself charmed by his stories. A true Scotsman, my father was a born storyteller.
As I read the letters, I could hear his deep voice narrating in my head.
He’d asked questions about my life; some of them my mom answered in the letters she sent him. She was terse but reassuring in her words—she basically made the point over and over that I was fine without him.
A low anger simmered inside me.
One day it would boil over if I didn’t confront my mom about the part she’d played in separating me from Mac.
But she wasn’t completely to blame. Mac had said so and reading his letters I concluded he was right. My dad had a wonderful life with Lachlan, and if he’d wanted to, he could have fought harder for me. It would’ve meant sacrificing his career, and ultimately he hadn’t chosen to do so. He hadn’t chosen me.
While I wanted to believe he’d come to regret that over the years, the pain was still there. Still fresh.