She was hard and unyielding in my arms.
Once upon a time, there was nothing better than a Robyn hug.
Realizing she wasn’t going to return my embrace, my heart crumpled and I pulled away. But then she made an aggravated sound in the back of her throat seconds before her arms closed around me.
Tears stung my nose as I pressed my cheek to her shoulder and clung to her. She held me so tight I could barely breathe, but I didn’t care.
“I could kill you,” she whispered hoarsely.
Hearing the pain in her voice, my eyes flew open and caught in Lachlan’s cool, azure gaze. His eyes narrowed, his expression softening from hard to thoughtful at whatever he saw on my face. Disconcerted, I pulled out of Robyn’s embrace and slapped her arm playfully. “But what a dull place the world would be if you did.”
My sister studied me with those penetrating, ever-changing eyes of hers. I’d always been jealous of the eyes she’d inherited from Mac. While we shared the same large, oval shape, Robyn’s were technically hazel, but they changed color depending on her mood or the surrounding colors. Mine were an ordinary chestnut brown.
“Eh, hate ta interrupt, but the meter is still tickin’, ya ken,” the cab driver called behind me.
“Pardon?” I wrinkled my nose in confusion.
“The. Meter. Is. Tickin’. Ya. Ken,” he repeated like I was deaf.
To be fair, saying it slower and louder meant I picked up the word meter and deduced what he was saying from that. “Damn. Okay.” I flicked Robyn a look. “Let me just pay this guy.” I lowered my voice. “He’s been talking about some random guy called Ken the entire ride up here like I’m supposed to know who that is.”
Mirth suddenly brightened Robyn’s eyes, and she made a choking sound.
“What?”
She swallowed another snort of laughter and replied, her voice trembling with amusement. “He’s saying ‘you know.’ ‘Ken’ means ‘know’ in Scots.”
I laughed loudly at my mistake, and we shared a grin.
Then something like mistrust entered my sister’s expression, and the light moment dissipated as quickly as it happened.
“Jock will take care of your fare.” Lachlan approached and nodded beyond me. I turned to see Sarge (a.k.a. Jock) leaning in to pay the driver; a guy dressed in a modern version of livery retrieved my suitcase from the trunk. This place really was like Downton Abbey, or at least one of the estates described in my beloved racy historical romances.
“My purse is on the back seat,” I said, but the guy was already pulling it out of the cab for me. “Thank you!” I waved at the driver, who gave me a big smile.
“So,” Robyn said, “you could have just returned my phone calls. You didn’t need to come all the way to Scotland.”
“Of course, I did. I wanted to make sure you were okay. And to see what the allure was.” I covered my hurt at her defection from Boston. Did she even think about me when she decided to move to an entirely different continent?
I winced at my selfishness. Robyn didn’t owe me anything.
Lachlan, whose face I’d seen a million times in film, was obviously a pivotal part of the appeal. A good few inches over six feet tall, broad shouldered, clothes that showcased the body of an action star, sandy-blond hair, unshaven cheeks, and rugged features. The man was a blaze.
Then my eyes met Uncle Mac’s.
I tensed.
He was … not at all what I’d expected. Younger looking than I’d anticipated. But then, he was only in his mid-forties. Even then, he didn’t look his age. The same height as Lachlan, Mac was just as broad shouldered, possibly even more muscular in his tight black T-shirt that showed off all that power. His dark hair was speckled with salt and pepper, and he wore it longish so it curled around his nape. Also like Lachlan, he had that designer stubble thing going on.
He was a dead ringer for that guy out of True Blood and Magic Mike, and he didn’t look any older than Lachlan.
I couldn’t call him Uncle Mac anymore. It was too weird. “Jesus, Mac, it’s been an age and yet you’ve stopped aging, apparently.” I eyed him thoughtfully. “I suppose if Robyn forgives you, I guess I should, huh?”
Mac studied me. “It’s been a long time, Regan. We’ve been worried about you.”
My smile strained. “Worried about moi? Why ever for? I’m fabulous.” I spun on my heels and gestured up to the castle. “And clearly so is Robyn.” I glanced over my shoulder at my sister. “A boyfriend with a castle. Nice.”
“Fiancé,” Robyn corrected, lifting her left hand.
A diamond winked blindingly in the sunlight.
It knocked the breath right out of me.
Robyn was engaged.
She was marrying Lachlan Adair.
My sister was engaged and I hadn’t known about it?
She was never coming back to Boston.