Absent in the Spring (The Shakespeare Sisters 3)

He almost stopped dead in his tracks. There was something about her that made him want to stand and stare for a moment. It wasn’t just the way she looked – though that would have been enough – but the way she held herself that intrigued him. As she stared out at the ocean, her blonde hair pulled back into a perfect bun, her expression perfectly serene, he imagined her to be like some kind of female Canute. But in her case, if the Atlantic Ocean had dared to move any further up the sand, she’d only have to hold up her hand for it to scurry away again.

Christ, it really had been a long day. He was seeing things that weren’t there.

Shaking his head at himself, he walked over to the table, and relaxed his face into a friendly expression. Business was business, no matter how tired he was.

‘Miss Shakespeare?’

Almost immediately she turned to look at him, her lips curling into a smile. It lifted her cheeks, making the skin at the corner of her eyes crinkle. ‘Mr MacLeish?’ she asked. When he nodded, she stood, offering her hand.

‘I’m sorry I’m late. I was held up in meetings,’ he said, shaking her hand. Her palm was warm and soft in his. He looked down at her fingers – and her perfect manicure. When he brought his eyes back to her face, they met hers, deep and blue. There was a softness to her gaze that contrasted with her steely exterior. He could see himself reflected in the darkness of her pupils.

‘It’s not a problem,’ she said, pulling her hand back to her side. ‘I’ve been admiring the beautiful view.’ Her voice was smooth yet clipped – the kind of accent he heard whenever he visited London. Strange that she was from Scotland, then, where the accent was more lyrical and deep.

The way his father’s had been.

‘How was your journey?’ he asked, pointing at her chair and gesturing for her to sit down.

‘It was long, but I managed to get lots of work done.’ She smoothed her skirt out as she sat, and he followed suit, leaning back on his chair and crossing his legs beneath the table. ‘It gave me a chance to reread your case notes. I wanted to be up to speed.’

‘I apologise for the rush,’ he said, picking up the water bottle and pouring it into his glass. ‘Would you like a top-up?’ he asked her. She nodded and he refilled it, then screwed the lid back on. ‘This inheritance is very important to me, and I want to make sure I have the right kind of advice. You came highly recommended.’

She smiled again, and it was impossible to drag his eyes away. It was almost a relief when the waiter arrived at their table, asking if they were ready to order.

‘A glass of the Bryant Cabernet, please,’ Lachlan said to the waiter. He hadn’t intended to drink, but a glass might take away his edginess. ‘How about you, Miss Shakespeare?’

‘It’s Lucy.’ She shook her head when the waiter offered her the wine list. ‘And I’m fine with the water, thank you.’

The waiter left, and there was silence for a moment, save for the sound of the ocean behind her, and the low level of chatter in the restaurant surrounding them. ‘This is a beautiful restaurant,’ Lucy said, looking over his shoulder at their surroundings. ‘Were those Pollocks I saw hanging up in the main room?’

‘Yes they are.’ He was relieved they weren’t launching straight into business, no matter how tired he was. ‘We worked hard to get the restaurant just right. And the food is even better than the interior design. The chef and his staff are excellent.’

The waiter brought his wine over, then melted away. Lachlan lifted it up, letting the bouquet fill his senses for a moment before he took a drink. It tasted as good as he remembered.

‘I went to a Pollock exhibition at the National Gallery in Edinburgh a couple of years ago,’ she told him. ‘It was fascinating. There’s something hypnotic about his paintings that make you just want to stare at them for hours.’

‘Have you always lived in Edinburgh?’ he asked, still wondering about her voice.

‘No, I was born in London. I moved to Edinburgh when I was eighteen, to study law at the university. I guess I fell in love with the city and never looked back.’

‘That explains the accent,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t quite place it.’

‘I’ve lived there for ten years,’ she said, that smile playing at her lips again. ‘But I still can’t shake off the English tones. Luckily my clients don’t seem to mind it, even if most of them are Scottish born and bred.’

There was a loud cheer from the table a few yards down from them, as a waiter brought out a huge chocolate dessert covered in candles. Lachlan glanced over his shoulder to see what the noise was about, then turned back to her. ‘What made you decide to become an attorney?’ he asked. It felt strange asking her the question, even if this was the point of their dinner. He was supposed to be interviewing her, making sure she was the right person for the job. That was the reason she’d flown over two thousand miles to meet with him, after all.

He’d still rather know what she thought about the hotel, though.

‘It’s something I’ve always been interested in,’ she said, looking up and catching his eye. He lifted his wine glass and sipped at it, holding her gaze.

‘What interests you about it?’

She tipped her head to the side, considering his question. ‘Without laws, society as we know it couldn’t exist. They provide a frame

work for us all to live in. For the most part, they stop people from behaving badly, and even if they do, they ensure that the wrongdoers are punished.’

‘Sounds like you should have gone into criminal law,’ Lachlan murmured.

‘I always thought I’d end up as a criminal lawyer, but then I did my traineeship and I quickly discovered I disliked it.’