Page 135 of A Secret Scottish Escape

I bit my lip and continued to stare ahead.

“Layla,” he started, turning to face me. “You look beautiful.”

I swallowed and raised my chin.

“And you saved me. You and that garden.”

My brows dipped. “Sorry?”

Rafe fidgeted on the spot. “I came here to Loch Harris to escape. After what happened with Emily, I blamed myself and thought I didn’t deserve…”

“To be happy?”

“Yes.”

Rafe rifled a hand through his hair, sending it into irresistible, black plumes. “When Ed came to see me earlier today—”

I whirled round, almost slapping him with my shawl. “Ed? What was Ed doing going to see you?”

“He told me about the results of the DNA test,” admitted Rafe. “He seemed a bit disappointed, if I’m being honest. He told me that he’d lost out on having a wonderful, beautiful girl like you as his daughter.”

Rafe pushed both his hands into the front pockets of his trousers. “When Hazel almost ran you over up at the cottage, all I could think of was losing you like I had Emily.”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe properly. My chest heaved under my sparkly dress. “Go on.”

“If anything had happened to you, I knew it would be my fault and I just couldn’t risk going through pain like that again.”

My eyes smarted. I was desperate to touch the scar on his handsome face and assure him that he was worth taking a risk on.

“When Ed came to talk to me today, he told me how you helped him that day in the woods.”

Rafe’s eyes lingered longer than necessary on my lips. “He also reminded me what I’d said to him about playing with the band tonight, instead of cutting and running.” A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. “He said, as it turned out, he wouldn’t be able to play a part in your life, but that I could, and that I was a dick if I threw that chance away.”

His gaze burned. “You saved me, Layla, but I was too much of a coward to admit it to myself.”

I played with the fringing of my shawl. “So, is it true?” I managed. “That you’re planning on moving away from Loch Harris?”

Rafe cast his gaze downwards for a moment. “Well, that kind of depends on you.” He traced a finger against my cheek and I shivered. He tilted my chin upwards so I couldn’t escape the intensity of his black lash-fringed eyes. “I want you, Layla. I want to give this – us – a go. I can’t leave Loch Harris. I can’t leave you. Not now.”

Then a mischievous grin overtook his features. It lit up his whole face and made my stomach leap. “And I really want to put a gazebo up in the garden, anyway.”

My lips smiled against his, before his mouth claimed mine over and over and I clung to him, kissing him back and revelling in the taste of him.

The pain and despondency of Mac’s betrayal, the desire to escape the memories of him and what I’d thought we had in Loch Harris, the stress of launching The Conch Club and the endless business decisions, the fear over Harry not being my real father … they all melted away into the night.

It was all about new beginnings for Rafe and me.

But first, I had Ed to thank.

Epilogue

Two Years later, Terrigal, Australia

I padded out towards the panoramic window of our two-storey holiday home on Ocean View Drive.

It was all timber and glass, with a sun deck and generous garden for Rafe to indulge his green fingers. Outside, the waves charged onto the honey sand and a gull weaved its way through the azure sky.

“Huh! It’s OK for some,” teased Rafe. “I wish I had time to stand and daydream, Mrs Buchanan.”