Page 58 of Scotlander

Willa felt as if someone had just smashed a cast iron pan against her head. ‘What?’ Her stomach churned. ‘Come again, please?’

‘Oh goodness, I’ve put my foot in it, haven’t I? Sorry, love. You’d best speak to Orla.’

‘Finn’s done a runner, has he?’ asked Alastair, who apparently had bat ears.

‘Finn’s not coming?’

‘What? The scoundrel!’

‘Shall we hunt him down? Put him in the stocks?’

‘I’d nail his ear to them. Orla! Have you got any stocks round here?’

Gabe chose this moment to appear. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Bloody Finn’s done a runner on poor Willa here,’ Fenella said in a way that suggested she’d seen it coming all along.

Gabe’s pressed a hand to his chest as if the news had physically hurt him.

Was she humiliated?

Damn straight she was.

But did she want Gabe to pity her?

‘No! Please! I am not upset.’ Willa cut through the cacophony of support. ‘I’m kind of a lone wolf sort of gal at the best of times, so really – this is good. Better than good.’

‘He didn’t strike me as a hit-and-run kind of guy.’ Jeff shook his head in disbelief. Before Willa could firmly deny any sort of hit-and-run action, Jeff threw a meaningful look at Rosa, then to Willa and said, ‘You’re welcome to join our fold, honey. I’d be proud to call you my daughter.’

Before any of this could fully register, Orla appeared with a huge tray of savoury buns she called McTattieWiches. ‘Tattie scones with egg and sausage.’

Some very unJacobean machinery – a digger (driven by Trevor) and a tractor (driven by Errol) – ground to a halt outside the courtyard. Clearly lured by the scent of McTattieWiches, the men ran in, grabbed a couple each and began devouring them.

After he’d eaten two and grabbed a third, Trevor noticed no one was speaking. ‘What’s going on here? Has the cat died?’

Jules told him about Finn.

Trevor’s pale, vitamin-D-hungry face instantly turned puce. ‘The fooking bastard. He’s always bailing—’

Orla cut him off with a short, sharp, ‘Hey!’

To Willa she said, ‘I’m ever so sorry, Willa. I was gonnae tell you after you’d had your breakfast. I’m afraid Finn’s had to go elsewhere for the day.’ She turned to Trevor. ‘But he’ll be back later. He promised.’

‘Aye, right,’ scowled Trevor, then stuffed the rest of his McTattieWich into his mouth before disappearing off again as Orla apologetically explained to Jennifer and Fenella that they would be on dry stone wall duty together but not with the lads.

‘Why don’t you come with us, Willa?’ Fenella asked. ‘We can show these bloody men what a hash they make of things, eh?’

Willa nodded. She’d like that. But first she needed to talk to Gabe.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Finn dropped his head into his hands. Things were worse than he’d thought. Much, much worse.

To his credit, the bank manager – a kindly man named Colin Robertson – waited until Finn’s head had regrouped before clearing his throat and tapping the stack of papers on his desk. ‘Making this decision could put you and your family – your stepfamily – in a good place, Finlay.’

He knew it would. And also that it wouldn’t. ‘There’s no way Orla and Dougie could buy quality acreage in the volume they need around these parts.’

‘Actually,’ Colin began.