‘It was a long time ago.’
Lachlan racked his brain for something to say, but there was nothing there. Just a blank space where his good sense used to live. He pulled her closer, until her head was nestled against his arm, her body curled into his. He hadn’t expected her to be so light when he’d lifted her out of her bed. Her strong personality somehow made her seem bigger than she was, weightier, too. But in reality she was petite, small-framed with gentle curves, and the contrast bet
ween her body and her soul was enticing.
She placed her hand on the centre of his chest, where he imagined his heart must be. Her fingers splayed out, as though she were bracing herself against something. It felt different from her earlier touch, more gentle, more comforting. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the cocktail of emotions rushing through him. He wasn’t sure what any of them meant.
They lay there silently, Lachlan on his back, Lucy curled into him on her side, their breath slowing as the excitement of earlier ebbed away. In its wake it left him with questions, and an overwhelming sense of apprehension.
15
Flesh and blood, you, brother mine
– The Tempest
‘Good morning.’ Alistair looked up from his newspaper when Lachlan walked into the kitchen. There was a fresh pot of coffee on the table, along with a jug of orange juice and a rack full of toast. ‘Help yourself to breakfast,’ he said, gesturing at the food.
‘Has Lucy come down yet?’ Lachlan asked, pulling out a chair. She hadn’t been in his bed when he woke up – he assumed she’d gone back to her bedroom at some time before dawn. He should have been relieved – it wasn’t as though either of them had meant to cross the line, maybe it was best to pretend it never happened. And yet he couldn’t shake off the edgy sensation that had been gripping him all night. Ever since he’d let his desire overtake his good sense.
‘She left about an hour ago. Said something about an emergency at work.’ Alistair raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.’
Lachlan blinked for a moment. A glance at the clock above the old range-style cooker told him it was only eight thirty. ‘Is she coming back?’
Alistair’s expression softened. Lachlan didn’t like the way the man tipped his head in sympathy. ‘I don’t think so, Mr MacLeish. She took her suitcase with her, and thanked me profusely for the hospitality. She’s a lovely young lady, isn’t she?’
‘Yeah, she is. Lovely.’ Lachlan tried to ignore the spark of frustration that heated up his veins. He reached for the coffee and poured some into a mug. ‘Are we still on for lunch?’
‘Of course. I’m looking forward to it. Even if Lucy can’t join us.’
Lachlan rubbed his chin with his thumb. The skin around his neck felt tender. A memory flashed through his mind, of Lucy scraping his throat with her teeth as he thrust harder into her.
Christ, he needed to stop that.
They’d had sex, she’d left, and there were no regrets. If anything, he was glad he’d gotten her out of his system. He didn’t need any more complications.
‘Oh, and I found something last evening, in our files. I thought you might be interested.’ Alistair grabbed an envelope from his bag and slid some papers out. ‘We have so many old photographs. One day I’d like to have them all catalogued. Even better if we could scan them all in to the server. They’re such a great part of your heritage.’
He handed over a small rectangular photograph to Lachlan, who looked down at the image – surprisingly colourful and unfaded in spite of its age – and frowned.
There were two boys standing by the lake, both holding fishing rods. They were dressed identically – in MacLeish tartan kilts, grey jackets and long blue socks. Lachlan stared at it for a moment, recognising himself immediately. He remembered the kilt, too. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t remember smiling with his brother.
‘Is that me and Duncan?’ he asked, the frown still pulling down at his lips.
‘That’s right. I think I must have taken it, though I don’t rightly remember. I was in charge of the salmon back then, and you boys were royal terrors.’ Alistair laughed. ‘In the end, I taught you to fish so you could give me some peace.’
‘I don’t remember playing with my brother.’ Lachlan shook his head. ‘If this wasn’t so old I’d swear it was Photoshopped.’
‘You two looked so similar back then, I couldn’t tell you apart. You both loved running around the estate, too. Like two peas in a pod.’
‘I’ve never heard us described like that before,’ Lachlan said quietly. He couldn’t stop looking at the photo, at the way he was smiling, next to Duncan grinning from ear to ear. It was so different from the memories he had of his childhood, of the way he was treated every time he visited his father. Of the anger he always saw on Duncan’s mother’s face.
‘Can I keep this?’ he asked. For some reason it felt important to have it. ‘I’ll be sure to scan it in and send you a copy.’
‘Of course. I have another very similar, anyway. I must have been snap happy that day.’ Alistair smiled.
And for a moment, just a moment, it felt as though Lachlan’s world was tilting on an angle. Not too acute, just enough to make him feel as though he was listing to one side.
Then he took another mouthful of coffee, and let the bitter liquid warm his throat, and the caffeine soothe his mind.