Page 117 of A Secret Scottish Escape

“I walked away with this,” he ground out. “Emily lost her life.”

“But you also walked away full of all this remorse. And you shouldn’t have.”

Rafe gave his head a shake. “Don’t you see? I promised Emily I would always keep her safe, but I didn’t.”

Without thinking, I propelled myself up from the sofa and walked over to him. I knelt down in front of his long legs. “You weren’t to know what was going to happen. You weren’t responsible for that driver taking too many sleeping pills.”

He looked at me but said nothing.

“What happened to him? The lorry driver, I mean?”

“Died of his injuries two days later.” He raised his chin and stared down at me, his mouth a flat line. His dark brows thundered above his eyes.

“Is that why you didn’t end up releasing your first album and why you live like you do? Because of the accident?”

Rafe didn’t deny it.

“I want to help you,” I choked. “No one should be made to feel like this, least of all you.”

I slowly stood, watching as Rafe did the same. I could feel my breath catching in the base of my throat as his hot gaze swept me from head to toe.

“Thank you, Layla, but I think it’s best that you leave.”

My brows furrowed at him. “Why? What is it?”

He stalked out of his sitting room and down the flickering hallway to the front door. He tugged it open and walked back towards the garden as I followed. Pausing, Rafe pushed his hands into his trouser pockets and gave a slight shiver. “I’m not good to be around.”

“Who told you that?”

“No one.”

“Then why say it?”

His brown eyes grew hard. “Because it’s true! I lost Emily and I’m not prepared to lose you—” He drew himself up.

“What?” I asked in a whisper. “Rafe, please talk to me. You won’t lose me.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

My chest rose and fell under my denim jacket. “I just do.”

His attention followed my hand as I raised it to his cheek. I sensed him flinch at first. Then his body relaxed as my fingers slowly traced over his ragged wound from the tip of his brow right down to the edge of his lips.

“Rafe,” I breathed into the night air, aware of the silhouetted trees and trembling plants surrounding us. There was the dusky, heady scent of heather.

I gazed up at him, spellbound by the depth of his eyes.

He angled his head so that his scarred cheek was resting against the palm of my hand. “I warned you, Layla,” he growled. “I’m not good to be around.”

His eyelids fluttered closed for a moment. His long, sooty lashes rested on his cheekbones. Then his lips grazed my wrist and I let out a gasp, before managing to say, “Maybe you should let other people be the judge of that.”

I allowed my fingers to stroke a stray hair that was furling over his ear. “What happened to Emily was tragic, but it wasn’t your fault.”

Now it was Rafe’s turn to touch my face. He did it as though he were frightened at first – slowly and deliberately. He traced one finger down my cheek until it stopped beside my lips. His eyes locked on my mouth and I struggled to breathe.

The silence was broken by Rafe suddenly murmuring, “Oh Layla,” before claiming my lips with his.

I pushed myself against him and tasted the heat of his mouth. His hands kneaded and pressed against my back and I reciprocated by sliding my fingers underneath his top, caressing him and investigating the curves and planes of his body.