‘Maybe.’ She smiled back at him. ‘It’s certainly very charming.’
‘Well, good evening, Miss Shakespeare. I believe the cook has dinner in the oven for you. I hope you have a restful night.’
After Alistair left, she stared at her laptop for a while longer, scrolling through her emails and answering the urgent ones. But her heart wasn’t in it. She kept thinking of Lachlan, of him walking out in the cold, frosty air. Was he still thinking about the interview? They hadn’t had much chance to talk since Marina left, but she couldn’t help but think about the expression on his face when the journalist had asked her intrusive questions.
Lucy felt a pull, like a boat being tugged into the shore. It was inevitable that she would find her coat and scarf, and slide her legs into her polished brown leather boots, shaking her hair to free it as she walked out of the front door and down the steps. Before she knew it her feet were crunching against the blades of grass, as she walked in the direction of the valley.
After a few minutes she found herself approaching the loch, marvelling at the blue water as it reached the frozen shore. In the distance she could see snow-topped mountains, their white peaks reflected in the mirror-like surface. On the other side were a series of rocks, brown crags – or carraigs – that gave the estate its name.
From the corner of her eye she noticed a movement. A flash of brown against the green background. Slowly she turned her head to see a proud stag standing in the distance, his antlers still, yet menacing. She couldn’t help but think of that Landseer painting again.
‘Don’t move.’ Lachlan’s voice came from her left. ‘I saw some does earlier, but I didn’t expect to see the stag, too.’
Lachlan was standing as straight and tall as the stag. His vulnerability from earlier had gone, replaced by a ruggedness that mirrored his surroundings. A gust of wind lifted up his dark hair, revealing his smooth brow, unfurrowed by lines.
‘He’s beautiful,’ she whispered, afraid to disturb the scene ahead of them. ‘So elegant and grand.’
‘If my father were here, he’d shoot him.’
‘Then it’s a good job your father isn’t here,’ she said, smiling.
The stag slowly turned to look at them, his disdain for all things human clear on his face. Then he shook his head, leaning onto his back legs before he pushed himself into a run, cantering around the side of the lake and into the woods beyond.
There was something so beautiful about the scene before them, that it took her breath away. There was no sign of civilisation, no sign of humans at all, just nature at her wildest, rising up in craggy mountains and dipping down into wooded glades. They could have been in any moment in history, and the view would have been the same.
‘I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything so lovely,’ she whispered.
‘This is the view I remember,’ Lachlan said, his voice as quiet as hers. ‘When I was a kid I’d come out here and pretend I was just an animal like the deer and the fish. That I didn’t have any worries, that I didn’t have to fight and scramble my way through life. I haven’t thought about it for years, but now I’m here, it’s all coming back.’
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He was staring right at her, his eyes gentle. And just like that he took her breath away again, more than the stag, more than the view. When Lachlan MacLeish was around, everything else faded into insignificance.
‘It’s views like this that make me think that one day I’ll give up the rat race and spend my time travelling,’ she said. ‘I spend so much of my time looking at the same four walls, it’s easy to forget how beautiful the world can be.’
‘I hear you,’ Lachlan agreed. ‘Grant once did an analysis of how I spent my year. Apparently I was fifty-one per cent in the office, twenty-four per cent on airplanes and twenty-one per cent at home. That only left four per cent of the time that I was actually out in the open air. And most of that was spent running.’
‘Do you run every day?’ she asked him, remembering their conversation while he was in Central Park. The way he’d barely had to catch his breath while they spoke.
‘Whenever I can,’ he said, smiling at the thought.
‘Do you like it?’ she asked him. ‘Or is it just one of those things you do to stay healthy, like drinking water and eating your five a day?’
‘It’s not so much that I like it, more that I’d go crazy without it. Sometimes I can only jump on the treadmill in my office for half an hour, but even that’s better than nothing. It’s the one time I can clear my mind, and just be present in the moment.’
‘Except when you’re talking to me.’
He laughed, and it lit up his face. ‘Touché.’ He turned until he was looking right at her, only a few feet between them. ‘How about you?’ he asked, that soft look back in his eyes. ‘Do you run?’
‘Only if my house is on fire.’ She shrugged. ‘I have a gym membership that’s not been used for the last eighteen months. Apparently you have to actually go for it to make a difference.’
‘Who knew?’
‘Seriously, though, I should go more often. I’m just always so busy. If I’m not at the office, I’m catching up with work at home. There’s not a lot of time to get on the treadmill.’
Lachlan frowned at her answer, as though it made him sad. ‘What do you do to relax?’
‘Go out with friends, talk with my sisters. Oh, and I have timeshare on a cat. That’s a good way to be mindful.’
‘You have a cat?’ he asked.