Page 116 of Journey to the Scottish Highlands

Chapter Twenty-Four

I must have slipped into a tearful sleep, because a gentle knock on my bedroom door woke me from addled dreams.

Crumpled and disoriented, I squinted down at my watch.

I’d only been asleep for around half an hour, but it felt more like three days.

Tangerine light was pushing through my closed curtains, and the birdsong was lazy.

I rubbed my eyes and let out a groan. My head felt washed out.

There was another knock on the door.

Evan?

I lurched off the bed and recoiled at my appearance in the dressing table mirror. Evan’s deception had squeezed the colour from me. My reflection reminded me of a gargoyle more at home jutting out from The Ramblings.

If it was Evan again, he could sod off, no matter how much he flashed those eyes at me or sweet-talked me in that husky rumble of his.

I yanked open the door, ready to hit Evan with a volley of home truths.

But it wasn’t him.

It was Dane.

His Nordic good looks collapsed when he saw the state of me. ‘Jesus.’

I sniffed and raked a hand through my hair. ‘Thanks for the ego boost.’

‘Sorry.’ He hesitated. ‘Can I come in?’

‘I’m really not in the mood for company right now.’

‘I can see that.’

‘Look, Dane, I don’t mean to be rude, but if you’re just going to stand there and tell me what a fright I look, I already know.’

‘I’m not.’ His eyes softened. ‘You look like you could be doing with a friend.’

My bottom lip trembled.

‘I’m sorry I’ve behaved like a prize twat. You didn’t deserve that.’ His mouth broke into a gentle smile. ‘Can I come in please, Daisy? Honestly, I’m a good listener when I’m not droning on about myself.’

‘Ok. Thanks.’

I stood to one side, and Dane strode past me, all long blond hair and canvas trousers.

He sank into the chair at the dressing table and waited until I’d clicked the bedroom door shut and I’d dropped down on the edge of the bed. ‘So, what’s the beef between you and Captain America?’

I didn’t want to dredge it all up again, and I certainly didn’t want to cause a rift or any distrust in the Lord family. Evan told me none of them knew about him being Fox, and even though I was hurt and resentful, I wasn’t malicious.

It wasn’t up to me to tell his family. They should hear it from him.

I dropped my attention to the bedspread before looking back up at Dane’s concerned face. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Look.’ Dane leaned forward and twisted a couple of the ornate rings he wore around his fingers. I noticed that one was a Celtic cross and the other was of a thistle. ‘I’ve never been known for my ability to read a room. I’ve tended to be more absorbed with myself than other people.’

I shuffled on top of the bed. I couldn’t disagree with him on that one. From the moment I’d stepped into The Ramblings, Dane had reminded me of Narcissus: in love with himself, to the exclusion of everyone else, though charming and charismatic with it.