Page 12 of A Secret Scottish Escape

I turned over the envelope a few times in my hands, feeling its smooth straight edges. I knew Mac had always loved a touch of the dramatic, but this…

I looked across the table at David Murray, trying to read his expression and failing. He gave the briefest nod of encouragement and I switched my attention back to the mysterious envelope in my hands. Then I surprised myself by feverishly ripping it open.

Chapter Eight

Mac’s handwriting swam along the paper in front of me.

I searched David’s face.

“I’m aware of its contents,” he admitted.

I cleared my throat and began to read.

Dearest Layla,

If you are reading this then that means the secret I have been keeping from you will have to be revealed – and for that, I am truly sorry.

It also means we won’t be spending the rest of our lives together.

I tried to bury a painful ball clustering at the base of my throat. Was this some sort of twisted joke on Mac’s part?

I lowered the letter and stared across the table at David. From behind him, a couple of mourners appeared.

“Would you like a tea or coffee, Layla? Or perhaps something stronger?”

“No,” I faltered, the letter feeling alien in my fingers. “No, thank you.”

I lowered my eyes and started reading again.

You need to understand that meeting you made me feel twenty-eight again and I will always be grateful.

A few more hotel guests wandered past us, their shoes resonating on the black and white tiled floor.

Despite what stories you might hear, please know that I love you.

It’s true that Hannah and I always felt that we had unfinished business…

His words pricked me and I blinked several times. “Why is he doing this? Why is he saying all this now?”

David nodded his understanding. “I know it isn’t easy, Ms Devlin, but please read to the end.”

I let out a weary sigh and turned my attention back to Mac’s last words.

… but know that despite any feelings I still had for Hannah, you mean the world to me.

I frowned, tears gathering on my lashes as I waved the piece of paper dismissively. “Oh, please Mac. Spare me the Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton routine.”

David Murray fiddled with the buttons on his suit jacket. “Please don’t think I’m interfering, but he really did love you.”

I eyed him. “Are you telling me you knew about him and Hannah?”

“No, not at the beginning. Not until he asked me to revise his will.”

I shifted on the hotel couch. “And when was that?”

David dragged a hand down his face. “Two months ago.”

“Two months?” I echoed. “Why on earth would Mac have altered his will as recently as two months ago?”