Page 62 of Scotlander

Instinctively, Willa pulled away from Gabe’s embrace. ‘Sorry, I—’

Lachlan shook his head in apology. ‘No, lassie. The two of you are enjoying a well-deserved greet.’

‘Uhhh . . .’

‘A good cry,’ Lachlan said, tugging tissues out of his sporran and handing them one each. ‘Bamboo. Earth-friendly.’ He plopped down on the ground beside them. ‘Oh god, I love a good weepy session, don’t you?’

Willa breathed out an emphatic, ‘Yes,’ then held out her hand for another tissue.

‘Hallelujah,’ Lachlan said companionably. ‘Better out than in. Sometimes when I feel the need for a proper sob, but can’t get it, you know, primed, I get in some chocolate, some ice cream, bring the duvet out to the sofa and pick out a fil-um that’s guaranteed to make me cry.’

She and Lachlan looked at one another while Lachlan rubbed Gabe’s back then, as one, they said, ‘Romeo and Juliet with Leo and Claire.’ Then, ‘Yeeaaas, Queen!’ Then more tears. More tissues. More sharing of films that were sure to induce puffy eyes and a headache.

Gabe started laughing. ‘I’m guessing I don’t need to worry about the two of you hitting it off, then.’

‘Och, away,’ Lachlan said. ‘If you love her, I love her.’ His tone was so full of warmth she felt as if they’d been friends for a hundred years. No wonder Gabe had fallen for him. He was like a sexy, Scottish, kilted James Blunt. Full of warmth, kindness and humour that knew no boundaries.

After a few more minutes of chatting, talk turned to plans for the walled garden and orchard, which Willa took as her cue that it was, in fact, time to do some chores. She excused herself, saying she was off to find the girls.

As she left, Gabe jogged up behind her. She turned around and smiled at her new friend.

‘I just wanted to make sure we’re cool.’

‘Yeah, of course.’ They were. Definitely.

‘You should read your letter,’ he said.

She nodded. She knew she should.

He looked over his shoulder to where Lachlan was doing a sun salutation in the middle of the orchard. Shirtless.

‘Go,’ she said.

He leant in and gave her cheek a kiss.

‘You’ll be okay,’ he said.

She had no idea why, but she believed him.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The next day, ignoring the catcalls, sotto voce boos and Trevor’s utterly charmless greeting (no one needed to bear witness to one of his crotch grabs), Finn marched through the courtyard looking for Willa.

She stood up from where she’d been peeling potatoes with a couple of the other guests and wiped her hands on her smock. It caught him by surprise how at home she looked in her Jacobean gear. Someone had sewn a ‘maiden modesty’ panel into her dress, and her long hair, loose today, was caught behind a kerchief.

She raised her eyebrows, justifiably waiting for a) an explanation and b) an apology for disappearing yesterday. When he’d returned late last night from the auctioneers in Inverness, Orla had still been up, folding laundry and pulling things out of the oven. She’d told him Willa had seemed okay with his not being there. That she’d joined Gabe for part of the day and Jennifer and Fenella for the rest of it.

He was glad to hear she and Gabe had made friends again but knew how his absence would’ve translated to her: an abandonment.

Tears had rolled down her cheeks when she’d told him that she didn’t know why Valentina had sent her here. Now that Gabe knew why he was here, she’d admitted to feeling like a useless bystander. He didn’t think he meant anything to her, but he had a feeling his absence would’ve compounded that. Today he was making it his mission to ensure she knew there was someone apart from Gabe who had her back.

‘Piglets,’ he said, reaching out to take her hand.

She looked at it like he’d just offered her a handful of cow dung and stuffed her hands in her pinafore. Fair enough. She did, however, follow him as he headed out of the courtyard, no doubt mouthing something to the rest of the group on the lines of, ‘Don’t worry, I’m going to slip some arsenic into his tea.’ Which, frankly, would solve a lot of problems. For Orla, anyway.

He pointed at the Land Rover, engine still running, then drove to the barns in silence. The impression he’d made on her (a bad one) was worsening by the minute, but he was full of feelings and his usual ability to go beyond your average stoic Scottish person’s limited capacity for expressing them wasn’t functioning. He knew he’d be pushing it, but he was hoping Willa and all her Hollywood-talking-stick energy would help him.

When they arrived, Willa didn’t jump out of the jeep. ‘What?’ he asked.