How had this spiralled out of control so quickly?
He felt a familiar mix of frustration and fatigue.
‘This is getting us nowhere—and in case you’ve forgotten, you got in touch with me.’
He stared at her in exasperation and then wished he hadn’t. Her hair was coming loose and he had to resist the urge to pull it with his fingers and watch it tumble free.
He waited a moment, and then tried again. ‘Look, Lottie. You go where Sóley goes. That’s a given. And by pressure I just mean lawyers. But I don’t want to escalate this. I just want to do what’s best for our daughter. I think you do too, and that’s why you came to find me the other day.’
There was a small beat of silence.
‘I do want what’s best for her, but...’ She hesitated. ‘But going away with you... I mean, three weeks is a long time for two strangers to spend together.’
There was another pulse of silence. His heart was suddenly digging against his ribs.
‘But we’re not strangers, are we, Lottie?’ he said softly.
The silence was heavy now, pressing them closer.
Her pupils flared like a supernova and he felt his breathing stall in his throat. A minute went by, and then another. They were inches apart, so close that if he reached out he could touch her, pull her closer, draw her body against him...
And then above the pounding of his heart he heard her swallow.
‘Okay. Sóley and I will come to Iceland with you.’ Her expression hardened. ‘And then she and I will go home. Without you.’
CHAPTER THREE
LOTTIE AND LUCAS started their walk, as they always did, by climbing over the stile in the wall at the back of the garden. After days of rain, not only was the sun shining but it was unseasonably warm.
‘Usual route?’ Lucas said, steadying himself on the top of the stile.
She nodded. ‘But maybe come back by the river? There might be some ducks for Sóley.’
She glanced up to where her daughter sat, clapping her hands triumphantly in the backpack on Lucas’s shoulders. She was wearing a lightweight purple all-in-one and a tiny knitted hat shaped like a blackberry, complete with leaves and a stalk, and in the pale lemon sunlight her skin looked as smooth and luminous as a pearl.
They trudged around the edge of the field across short, stubby tufts of grass to the lane that skirted the farmland. Instead of the usual hum of machinery, or the pensive bleating of sheep, it was still and peaceful, but Lottie didn’t mind—her head was noisy enough as it was.
Ragnar had been on television again last night, on some panel show and, watching him talk about global expansion and emerging markets, she had felt a little sick. He had sounded cool, driven and utterly focused on his goals. Of course he’d been talking about his business, but she could easily imagine him applying the same focus and determination to getting what he wanted when it came to his daughter. Plus, he had all kinds of resources at his disposal. Look at how quickly and smoothly he’d acquired a passport for Sóley.
She felt her pulse jerk forward. So quickly, in fact, that this time next week all three of them would be flying to Reykjavik.
It was difficult to say which was more terrifying. The future when her adult daughter would be able to travel outside of England without her made her skin grow tight with panic, but thinking about spending three hours with Ragnar, let alone the three weeks she had agreed to, set off a pinwheel of alarm in her chest.
To say that she didn’t want to go was the mother of all understatements—only what choice did she have? She could refuse, but then he would simply make good on his threat to escalate matters through the courts. Or she could go into hiding. Izzy knew loads of people who lived off-grid in houseboats and artists’ communes. Only she couldn’t stay hidden for ever.
Her stomach tightened.
She was just going to have to accept that it was happening.
But it was all moving so much more quickly than she’d expected.
It wasn’t that she blamed Ragnar for wanting to get things rolling. If she’d been in his position she would have felt just the same. And nor did she really regret her decision to tell him about Sóley. But even though she knew she’d done the right thing, seeing him with Sóley, feeling the imperative weight of the connection between them, was making her head spin.
She felt a longing to snatch her daughter away and hold her close, and yet at the same time a longing to be part of the golden warmth of their inner circle. It was so confusing. She wanted to feel happy for her daughter, not panicky and envious, and she knew that she was being illogical, but she still couldn’t stop herself from feeling just a tiny bit jealous of their blonde, blue-eyed bond.
A bond that would never include her.
A bond she had so spectacularly failed to achieve with her own father.