Mac flashed to his mind.

Guilt quickly followed the thought.

Fuck. He could still taste Robyn in his mouth.

Groaning, he sat back in his chair in his real office as he felt his body tighten with the memory of yesterday in her caravan. Seeing her in that run-down piece of shit of Gordon’s had irritated him to no end, reminding him that as Mac’s daughter, Lachlan should have offered Robyn a room or a cabin on the estate. Rent-free. Agitated at her living quarters, irritated with himself, and bothered constantly by her, he’d lost his goddamn mind.

There she’d been, yelling at him, and the only way he could think to stop her was to kiss her.

“Great plan,” he muttered, throwing his pen across his desk.

She’d lit up under his hands.

He tasted her fire on his tongue and, goddamn, it ignited something inside him.

It made no sense.

She was Mac’s daughter.

She’d given Lachlan nothing but hell since she’d arrived and treated him with disdain.

“Tell that to my dick.”

The sound of bagpipes pierced the room, jolting him. “Jesus!” He glared over his shoulder, out the small window where he could see the sway of Malcolm’s dark green, black, red, and white kilt. He wore Sutherland tartan; they all did if an event called for traditional attire.

“Every time.” Lachlan pushed back from the desk, needing distance from the pipes and a chance to clear his head. Wanting to escape the castle without bumping into any members, he took the side entrance off the staff quarters and walked toward the path that led to the beach. It was around a thirty-minute walk, past Loch Ardnoch and the second loch near the coast, Loch Evelyn, named after his great-great-grandmother.

He’d only just passed the footpath that forked toward Loch Ardnoch and Eredine’s studio when he heard someone calling his name over the bagpipes. Trying not to be irritated by the interruption to his solitude, he stopped and turned.

Lucy, dressed in workout clothes, hurried toward him. “Hey, you!”

“Hi.” He nodded toward the castle and raised his voice to be heard. “Not going in for afternoon tea?”

“Not today. Where are you going?”

“Just a walk down to the beach.”

“Can I join you?”

Lachlan didn’t want anyone to join him, but he’d never say that to Lucy. “Of course.”

They fell into step together, the breeze particularly strong as they walked through nothing but rolling, wild fields that would eventually lead them to the water in the distance. As Malcolm ambled around the other side of the castle and he and Lucy moved farther away, the pipes became a distant wail.

“Are you okay?” his friend asked.

“Fine.”

He could feel her eyes on his face. “Did something happen between you and Robyn?”

“Why would you ask that?” It seemed unlikely that Robyn would say anything about the kiss. Right? Though she and Lucy had grown close these last few weeks.

“Robyn is off today too. But it could be because she’s gearing up to see Mac.”

“She’s here?” He glared. No one had told him Robyn was on the estate.

“Yeah. She’s with Ery. She said she’s going to see Mac after their session.”

“About bloody time,” he muttered, satisfied that his visit yesterday had yielded a result. Though, considering he’d gone there with the intention of commissioning photography from her and instead pissed her off, kissed the hell out of her, and pissed her off some more, it wasn’t much of an accomplishment.

He’d never gotten off on needling a woman before in his life, but there was just something about her—

“You’re scowling so hard, it’s a wonder your face doesn’t crack.”

Lachlan turned that scowl on his friend.

Lucy just laughed. “What is going on with you?”

He considered confiding in her. If there was one person he could trust with his personal life, knowing it would go no further than her ears, it was Lucy. But what was the point? It was never going to happen again.

Lucy’s laughter died. “Seriously, Lachlan. What is going on? You’re wound so tight these days.”

“I kissed Robyn,” he blurted out, rubbing a self-conscious hand through his hair.

At her silence, he looked at her, and to his annoyance, Lucy was quite obviously struggling not to laugh.

“Oh, it’s funny, is it?” he huffed.

Her reply was a long snort that turned into laughter. “Oh baby, what have you done?”

“It was an accident.”

“What? You tripped into her mouth?”

“For Christ’s sake, you know what I mean.”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

“It shouldn’t have happened.”

“Why?”

Lachlan’s answering glower was incredulous. “Have you met the woman?”

“Yes, and I happen to think she’s almost as great as I am.”

He sighed, ignoring her teasing. “She’s Mac’s daughter.”

“True.”

“She’s immature.”

“Ah, no, I quite rightly disagree. You just happen to provoke an immature side. And vice versa.”

“I’m immature?”

“You two go at each other like kids at recess.”

The comment was scarily similar to something Mac had said.

Fuck.

This whole time they’d been snipping and snarling at each other, attracted to one another and resenting the other for it.