Absent in the Spring (The Shakespeare Sisters 3)

‘I was planning on taking you straight home,’ he told her. And his tone didn’t leave any space for guessing what he meant. Just because he could restrain himself while his driver was only a few feet away from them, didn’t mean he didn’t want to tear her clothes off and touch her all over.

‘Oh.’ She glanced at the driver from the corner of her eye. Lachlan mentally patted himself on the back for anticipating her response. He was getting to understand the way she thought – so different to him, and yet so very entrancing.

‘And then tomorrow night I want to introduce you to some friends of mine,’ he carried on. ‘Though if you’d rather do some sightseeing, we can arrange that too.’

‘I’ve already been to New York,’ she told him, ‘I don’t need to go sightseeing. I came to see you.’

Christ, she knew exactly what to say to make his dried-up little heart beat faster.

‘You’ll definitely be seeing a lot of me,’ he said, his voice low. She smiled, then bit on the corner of her lip, glancing down at her lap. She was driving him crazy with the coyness, the same way she drove him crazy no matter what she did. Would he ever get enough of her?

‘That’s the plan,’ she said softly.

Nope. He could never get enough.

‘You still want to take the bridge, Mr MacLeish?’ the driver asked, flipping up the indicator to take the right exit. Lucy looked out of the window at the view ahead. The evening was creeping in, an orange glow cast across the island of Manhattan. The skyline rose and fell in geometric splendour, the tall buildings dark against the sky. It was breathtaking – a perfect blend of man and nature – so different to the ancient beauty of Edinburgh.

‘This was my first ever view of Manhattan,’ Lachlan said, leaning across her to point out the window. ‘I was eight years old. My father was supposed to be arranging for me to be picked up from the airport, but when I walked into the arrivals hall, nobody was there.’

Lucy turned to look at him. ‘They left you at the airport alone? In a strange city?’

He nodded, but he didn’t look as upset as she felt. Lucy found herself taking his hand, wrapping her fingers around his palm as if she could save him.

‘I found a payphone and called his office. He told me to jump in a cab and he’d pay for it at the other end.’ He gave her a wry grin. ‘None of them would take me, and in the end he had to send his driver out to collect me. I still don’t know whether my father told him to take his time, or if he just felt sorry for me, but he took a slower route, just to let me see the sights. Told me the best view of Manhattan was from the Queensboro Bridge.’

‘This bridge?’ she asked, looking out at the old cantilevered construction. Set proudly on tall stone towers that rose out of the water, its iron trusses rose and fell in perfect symmetry.

‘Yeah. He pulled up for a few minutes, ignored all the cars honking their horns behind him, and told me to take a good look. Told me that once upon a time there’d been nothing here, save for fields and rivers and animals. Said that somebody had stood here – the way we were stopped then – and decided they were going to build a city.’ Lachlan smiled, his eyes misted with memories. ‘That if man could make New York, then we could achieve anything. We just had to dream big enough.’

‘He sounds nothing like any driver I’ve had in New York.’

Lachlan laughed, and the sound warmed her. ‘He definitely was one of a kind. Though Frank,’ he nodded his head at the driver, ‘is pretty close.’

‘I’m not stopping on the bridge,’ Frank said, having clearly listened in. ‘Not even for you, sir.’

Lachlan squeezed Lucy’s hand tightly, amusement written on his face. His moment of vulnerability was gone, replaced by the easy confidence she was used to. She filed the memory away – another glimpse into the man beneath the hard skin and the cute smile. A reminder of what pulled her to him every time they spoke. They’d both had hard childhoods – in one way or another – and they were both the products of always wanting more than they could have. The need to succeed flowed in his veins the same way it flowed through hers. A way to prove to the world they mattered.

They were two people made from the same tough material, and it only made her want to know him more.

25

Good company, good wine, good welcome,

can make good people

– Henry VIII

‘You never told me you had friends,’ Lucy teased, as the bouncer lifted the rope and let them cut the line into the club. Behind them were at least a hundred people, dressed to the nines and ready to party. ‘And there was me thinking you were brooding and aloof.’

‘Have I spoilt my image?’ Lachlan asked, his voice light. ‘Should we go back home and pretend I’m some lonely billionaire?’

‘You’re not a billionaire.’

He held the door open for her, letting her brush past him and into the building. With his free hand he ran his finger lightly across her hip, feeling the fabric of her skirt hugging her skin.

‘On paper I am. Or at least I have assets worth that much.’

‘You also have debts,’ she pointed out, grinning. ‘But don’t worry, once your empire comes tumbling down, I’ll still like you.’