Was a limited amount of time with the woman he loved better than no time at all?
He knew only one person who might have that answer.
* * *
ROBYN
Mac’s neat guest bedroom looked cozy and warm. Soft, golden light blazed from the bedside lamps, my suitcase laid at the foot of the bed, and the robe I’d bought from a boutique in Inverness was draped across the bed. While I’d been downstairs in his kitchen, hugging a mug of hot coffee between my hands, Mac was upstairs readying my room.
My camera gear had been set up near the window with care. He’d even lit a few nice-smelling candles that I’m sure Arrochar or someone must have bought him.
The consideration of it pierced the numbness I felt.
Mac’s arm slid along my shoulders, and he squeezed me against his side.
“You’re sure I’m not intruding?”
He kissed my temple. “Wee birdie, you could never intrude. I’m delighted to have you here.”
I looked up at him. “Are you happy to be home?”
“I am.”
Sensing his answer was sincere, I decided not to kick my own ass about the fact that we were splitting security resources by moving out of the castle. But I couldn’t stay there, across the hall from the man who rejected me when I was most vulnerable, when I needed him the most.
It was hard to reconcile my mind and my heart on this one. My heart was broken. Whether I’d meant to or not, I’d subconsciously been weaving a fantasy future for me and Lachlan, building my hopes for it on the idea that he was it. He was the guy I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Two people didn’t connect the way we had without knowing that it’s special, that it’s it.
Yet he wasn’t my future. I wasn’t it for him. And my brain kept telling me that I shouldn’t mourn a man who would abandon me like this, who would cut me out of his life. My brain was right. My heart was just having a hard time accepting that truth.
34
Lachlan
“Don’t, Eilidh.”
“I just want to say hello.”
“He’s sleeping.”
“Oh … he smells funny.”
“Eilidh, come on. Dad said not to disturb Uncle Lachlan.”
“But I want a cuddle.”
A weight spread across his chest. “Morning, Uncle Lachlan.” He felt the whisper of breath across his neck.
He peeled his eyes open, the blurry ceiling the first thing he saw before the aching pound started in his head. Dark hair came into his vision, and he glanced down to see his adorable niece sprawled across his chest like a sea star. Her chin rested on his upper chest, her big blues locked with his.
She beamed up at him. “Morning, Uncle Lachlan,” she repeated.
Despite the throbbing in his head and edges of the room tilting slightly when he moved, he couldn’t help but grin at Eilidh as he wrapped his arms around her. “Morning, angel. Where did you come from?”
“Sorry, Uncle Lachlan.” Lewis appeared at the side of the bed. “Dad said not to wake you.”
He reached out to ruffle his nephew’s hair. “It’s okay. What time is it?” His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton wool balls.
“Eight. We’re just getting ready for school.”
“I thought I told you not to come in here?” Thane strode into his guest bedroom.
The house Thane designed was situated on Adair land outside Ardnoch in a small, barely populated area called Caelmore. While the other homes in the village (if it was big enough to be called such) were situated near the main road that led into Ardnoch, Thane’s home sat above the sand dunes, overlooking the sea.
It was a contemporary structure, built with larch cladding and lots of glass.
He and the kids’ mum, Francine, built it together while she was pregnant with Lewis. Thane also designed Lachlan’s home—the one he never used, situated on the land next door.
“I wanted a cuddle.” Eilidh pouted at her father, somehow growing heavier on Lachlan. He realized why when Thane tried to lift her off, and she refused to go without a fight.
“Eilidh,” Thane admonished, sweeping her up before she could protest. “Uncle Lachlan’s not well. Leave him alone.”
She scowled over her father’s shoulder but gave Lachlan a cute wave. “Feel better, Lach Lach.”
He winked at her, and he saw her smile before she disappeared out the door with her father.
“You okay?” Lewis asked.
Always so serious, that one.
Like his father and eldest uncle.
Brodan and Arran had missed out on the serious gene.
While Brodan easily played the cocky, charming, laid-back Scotsman, Lachlan shrugged on the persona like a mask. He presented himself to the world in the way he wished he were.
But he wasn’t that man.
Though he’d felt like him for real when he was with Robyn. She freed something in him.
“Uncle Lachlan?”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” he replied, hoping there was a kernel of truth in it.