The Man She Should Have Married
Farlan being back had obviously stirred up all kinds of feelings.
Add in to that already potent mix the fact that he was staying at Lamington, and it would have been incredible if there hadn’t been any repercussions—
But was that enough to explain how she had acted?
Could desire really overrule everything? Not just the past, but all the anger and confusion that still simmered between them?
Her heart began banging against her ribs.
It wasn’t just desire.
Remembering Finola McGarry’s wide-eyed beauty, she clenched her hands, her nails digging in deep.
The years had softened the ache of Farlan’s absence. But seeing him with Finn had been a new, fresh pain, even though it shouldn’t have been that much of a shock.
After all, he’d made it clear just a couple of days ago that he was looking to ‘make a fool of himself with any number of women.’
Yet she hadn’t been prepared for exactly how much it would hurt. How every time his eyes had skimmed past her to settle on Finn’s face it had felt as though the air was being ripped out of her lungs.
But he wanted me as much as I wanted him.
It was so tempting to listen to that tiny, treacherous voice in the back of her head…to think about the tantalising possibility that they might get back together.
Only what would be the point?
There could be any number of reasons why he had kissed her like that. Habit…curiosity. Or perhaps, like her, he had just lost control and given in, momentarily, to the pull of the past.
It didn’t much matter either way, and it certainly wasn’t going to happen again.
She and Farlan had split up for multiple reasons.
Maybe those reasons had been misguided, and maybe she had spent the last seven years regretting her
actions and resigning herself to never meeting a man like him again. But no matter how passionate the kiss, it didn’t change the facts.
Whatever it was she and Farlan had shared, it hadn’t been solid or strong enough to survive real life.
The thought of deliberately drawing a line under their relationship made her shiver on the inside. But she knew what it had taken for her to get over him the first time. She couldn’t relive that. The time for what-might-have-beens was over.
And if she needed further proof of that she should remember how he’d looked at her when she had tried to pick up the books. There had been nothing lover-like about him then. He’d been just as angry and resentful as he had been all those years ago.
On the table beside her bed, her phone pinged.
Glancing down at the screen, she frowned. It was a text from Johnny, the head ghillie at Lamington, asking if she still wanted to meet and would she like a lift.
Of course—how could she have forgotten?
Tom and Diane might be living at the big house, but she was still overseeing the running of the estate, and she had earmarked today for catching up with the outdoor staff. The ghillies, stalkers and gamekeepers who knew the hills and the winds and the waters of Lamington best.
It would be a long, tiring morning, spent trundling round the estate in a car without a fully functioning heater. But on the plus side she would be too busy to give any more thought to the enigma that was Farlan Wilder.
Having texted back yes to the first question and no to the second, she showered and dressed and ten minutes later was bumping over the snow-covered road in her battered Land Rover.
When she arrived at Johnny’s house, a trio of khaki-green ATVs were already waiting for her. Leaning against them, a cluster of men all dressed identically, in boots, thick trousers, quilted jackets and beanies, were talking and drinking what she knew would be hot, sweet tea from Thermoses.
As she slid out of the car, the men all turned to face her. ‘Good morning, Lady Antonia.’
‘Good morning, everyone. I know you’re all dying to have some fun with all this lovely snow, and hopefully there’ll be some time later for that, but first—’