She nodded in understanding, and I studied her. Arrochar Adair wasn’t a typical beauty, but she was certainly striking with her unusually pale-blue eyes, high, sharp cheekbones, and slightly pointed chin. Her lips were heart-shaped, adding to her overall fay features.

I imagined she had no trouble turning heads.

I just wasn’t expecting that one of those would be Mac’s. I struggled to remember her age but thought it was close to mine. Perhaps a year or two older? That made the age difference between them fourteen to sixteen years. I knew my dad was young when they had me, and forty-four definitely wasn’t old, but still—

Robyn, stop.

I could absolutely be jumping to conclusions.

“Mac is hardy.” Arrochar yanked me out of my troubled thoughts. “He’s healing well,” she assured me. “He’s happy you’re here.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not?”

“Oh, I am.” She hurried to say, flushing slightly. “I just … I worry about him.”

Yeah, everyone was worried about Mac’s feelings. I got it. But a little understanding for the kid he walked out on might be nice. “You’re dating the chef at Ardnoch, right?”

I think she was as surprised as me by the question. “Uh, yes. Guy. We’ve been dating for the past few months. Why?”

Scrambling to think of a reasonable reason for asking, I blurted, “Does it bother Fergus?”

“Fergus? Fergus Ray?”

I nodded.

“Why would it?”

“Because you dated him.” I lowered my voice. “I’m helping Mac investigate the stalker at Ardnoch.”

“And you think Fergus is the stalker?” She laughed, a musical, sparkly sound that made her eyes darken to a warmer shade of blue. “God, no. Fergus wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“But you dated?”

“Yes. When we were kids. He was my first boyfriend. My first …” She raised her eyebrows. “Well, you know. But as sweet as he is, he’s immature.”

“That’s why you broke up?”

Arrochar made a face, like she couldn’t believe I was this nosy, but I genuinely did want to know about Fergus. “Um … that, and he had a gambling problem.”

That was new. “Gambling problem?”

“Online gambling.”

“Does he still?”

“I don’t think so. I think if he did, he’d have nothing left financially, and he’s got his flat that he rents and a good job on the estate …”

Still, I tucked that little note about him aside to put on my pin board later.

“Fergus isn’t behind the attacks. He’s like family. He and Brodan are best friends. He’d never hurt any of us.”

I also noted that, but he was still on my list. “Okay.”

Arrochar studied me like I’d just studied her. “You have Mac’s eyes.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“We should have dinner together.”

I raised an eyebrow at the abrupt change of topic. “We should?”

“Absolutely. Eredine has been talking about you nonstop, and you are Mac’s daughter. We should get to know each other.”

Considering what I may or may not have walked in on between her and Mac, I decided she was right. “Sounds great.”

Once we’d exchanged numbers and promised to arrange something, I returned to Mac’s room.

He gave me a soft, tender smile that caused an ache deep in my chest.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Like you didn’t already ask Arro?”

I chuckled, sliding into the seat she’d vacated. “Okay, I did.”

“I’m fine.” He assured me. “Feeling much better and ready to get the hell out of here. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough. You have no idea how awful it is to be in here this long.”

“Actually, I do,” I blurted out.

Mac’s eyes sharpened, his face clouding over. “Robyn?”

I hadn’t come here that morning with the intention of telling him the truth. That conversation was supposed to happen later. But after talking to Lucy about how cowardly I’d felt ever since I’d arrived in Scotland, the words just spilled out before I could stop them. “I’m not a cop anymore because last year, I was shot in the line of duty. I almost died.”

My father turned a worrying shade of chalk.

12

Lachlan

The Cromarty Bridge sat low on the firth, and on a cold, dreich spring day where the water reflected the weariness in the clouds, it felt almost as though the wheels of his SUV were touching distance from it. The softly rolling farmland on the opposite side of the water was a lush green or hay gold on a warm summer’s day, yet today, Lachlan could barely make out the land through the constant misty haze that hovered over the banks of the Cromarty Firth.

Mac was finally being discharged from hospital, and Lachlan was on his way to collect him. He wanted to bring Mac to the estate where his staff could look after him, including the security team. But, as always, his friend was a stubborn bastard, and he wanted to be taken to his cottage, where he had no help while he recuperated.

Lachlan hadn’t given up trying to convince him otherwise. He’d give it another go once he reached the hospital. Part of him just wanted to drive the mule to the castle despite his inevitable protests.