She studies the hazelwood rod thoughtfully.
— Archibald chose his inheritance over Elspeth, I say.
— That’s what people believe, she replies. But the truth is more complicated. He tried to find a compromise—to convince his father the union of both families could benefit everyone. But Robert McKenzie was as inflexible as Duncan McGregor.
— What happened to Elspeth?
— She married a distant cousin—to consolidate McGregor land. They say she never smiled on her wedding day. As for Archibald… he never married. Devoted himself entirely to the distillery. Created remarkable whiskies—but never the one he dreamed of making with her.
I sit there, absorbing the weight of it.
— History has a nasty habit of repeating itself, Alistair.
She looks at me—really looks.
— What happened with Keira?
I blink, caught off guard.
— How do you know something happened?
— I’m not blind. The way you looked at each other at dinner… and then how she shut down. And the fact you’ve been acting like a feral bear for days.
I hesitate. Where do I even begin?
— It’s complicated, I settle on.
— Love always is.
The word hits like a punch.
Is that what this is?
Is that what I feel for her?
— Did your father speak to you? she asks.
— About what?
— William Fraser. The new proposal.
I frown.
— He mentioned exploring options. I thought it was pressure tactics.
She shakes her head, suddenly tired.
— He signed a preliminary agreement with Fraser. Without consulting you.
My breath catches.
— When?
— Before dinner.
Everything clicks into place.
If he signed before dinner… he could’ve told Keira. Told her her project meant nothing.
