Page 28 of A Secret Scottish Escape

I reached into the pocket of my top and plucked out my sunglasses. It was a relief to retreat behind them, and not just because of the early morning glare.

Dad’s brows knitted together. “Come on. Out with it. You’re making my garden look untidy.”

I was losing my nerve. Maybe all these mad thoughts were a result of delayed shock or grief. “Out with what?”

Dad pushed his crumpled newspaper back across the table. “Why have you rocked up here so early on a Sunday morning?”

“I told you, Dad. I couldn’t sleep.”

I buried my face in the warm, flower-scented brew of my tea. Right now, I needed all the relaxing camomile I could get. “Oh, I’m just being stupid,” I blurted. “I’m still a bit all over the place.”

“About Mac, you mean?”

I shifted in my chair, the sleepy sun working its way up my arms. “Yes. No. Well, a little.”

“Well, that’s understandable,” answered Dad. “What that bastard did to you…”

He must have noticed my mouth sag, because he stopped himself. “Sorry, darling. I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but my loyalty is to you.”

“I know.”

“You were too good for him,” he insisted.

“Not that you’re biased or anything.”

Dad’s mouth hitched upwards at one corner. “Of course not.” Then he reached over to the table to cradle his mug. “It does make you think, though. Mac was only a year younger than me.”

I watched him take a sip of his coffee. “So, are you going to tell me what’s up,” he asked again, “or do I have to guess?”

I drank some of my tea and carefully placed the mug back down on the table. “Maybe I thought I knew what I wanted. Or perhaps I was just trying to convince myself that I did.”

“Layla, you’re not making any sense, love.” Dad leaned forward. “You know you can tell me anything.”

I admitted defeat and swiped off my sunglasses, stashing them on top of my head. “I’m probably making a big mistake again, but I don’t think I’ll be leaving Loch Harris after all.”

Dad’s face broke into a grin. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m delighted to hear that.”

Then Dad reined himself in a little. “I know that might sound selfish, but I honestly think you were making a big decision far too soon – and that’s understandable.”

Dad pushed his hand across the table and squeezed mine. In the distance, there was the faint sound of cattle high up in the fields and the whirr of a car engine out on the road. “In the end, I think you’ll be pleased you didn’t leave.”

Dad reclined back in his chair, his crinkly grey eyes dancing with delight. “This calls for a celebration.”

He slapped his hands down on the edge of the table. “You’ll see that your freelance writing will pick up and things will sort themselves out.”

I steeled myself to tell him about my absurd idea. I still wasn’t sure myself whether I was doing the right thing, but my heart had other ideas. “I’m not planning on spending as much time on my freelance work, Dad. At least, if things work out as I hope they will, I probably won’t have the time.”

“Oh?”

I pressed my lips together. Even as I began to utter the words, I couldn’t quite believe it was me talking. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I’ve decided to accept Mac’s money after all.”

My dad nodded ferociously. “Good for you, Layla. I think that’s sensible. What made you change your mind?” He steepled his hands together. “It will be a good nest egg for you to invest for the future.”

I cleared my throat and took a mouthful of camomile tea. “I’m not planning on investing the money, Dad.”

His brown brows rose up. “Oh, what are your plans then, if you don’t mind me asking?” He broke into a smile. “Are you thinking of going travelling? You know, I think you should take yourself off somewhere exotic on holiday for a few weeks.”

My stomach surged with adrenalin. “No. I’m not planning a holiday.”