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“Fiona!” It was a desperate cry.
He staggered the distance between them and fell to his knees on the harsh gravel. Strong arms snaked around her hips as he rubbed his face against her stomach.
“You came back.” The wonder and love in his voice brought tears to her eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me. You said forever. You promised. And you always keep your promises.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her stomach. “Ah, Fiona, I’ve missed you, lass.
A tear slid down Donna’s cheek, and she found it difficult to get the words out through her tightening throat. “Duncan, Fiona’s gone,” she said gently. “I’m Donna, your housekeeper.”
He was buried too deep in his drunken delusion to hear her. “I can’t do this without you.” He pressed his forehead to her. “Don’t leave me again. I cannae bear it.”
Another tear escaped, and she found herself reaching out with trembling hands to stroke the hair of the broken man who clung to her. To offer what little comfort she could when words were lost to him.
His breathing hitched at her touch. “How I love you. There’s only you for me. Only you.”
Her heart clenched, and she desperately wished that she had the power to bring his wife back for him. She wanted to reach through time and undo the injustices of the past. She wanted to give him hope. But there was none to give.
“Shh,” she whispered as she stroked his unruly hair. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
“They want me to lecture,” he whispered. “To stand up in front of all those students and talk about my work. I can’t do it. I can’t talk about it, and I can’t paint again. It would be better if everybody forgot about me. I’m washed up, lass. There are no more ideas for paintings in my head. And why would there be? What would I paint without you? Everything is so damn hard without you. Don’t leave me again. Never again. You promised.”
He let out a sigh of pure longing. “I think I’ve missed your lips most of all.” He leaned back to look up at her with eyes that saw another. His fingers traced the curve of her mouth. “I’ve missed the way they look when you smile at me, and the way they purse in anger when I annoy you—which is often. I’ve missed the feel of them, satin against my skin. And the colour, a ripe peach in summer. I’ve just missed you, Fi. All of you.”
He pressed his forehead against her. “I want to be with you so bad it’s agony. Why did you leave me behind? And why didn’t I have the guts to follow when I should have?”
“Hush now,” she cooed as tears streamed down her cheeks, “it’s going to be okay.”
He took a shuddering breath. “I can’t smile without you, Fi. I’ve forgotten how.”
There was nothing else she could say. They stayed like that for what seemed like hours until Donna was shivering from the cold nipping at her bones. She couldn’t let go of him. She knew she was a poor substitute for the woman he longed for, but in that moment, she was all he had to hold on to.
At last, Duncan’s vice-like hold relaxed, and with one long, contented sigh, he slid to the ground in front of her. For a second, she feared he’d given up on life entirely, but his pulse was steady and strong. It was only the whisky and the emotion catching up with him.
There was no way Donna would leave him lying in the driveway. Even if her nature could allow it, the early morning temperature could still slip below zero. The calendar might tell them it was late summer, but Scotland hadn’t received the memo. There was only one thing she could do, she reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out her phone.
“Agnes,” she said when her sister answered. “I need help.”
“He snapped, didn’t he?” Aggie said. “I knew it was only a matter of time. Hide the weapons. I’ll call the cops.”
“He hasn’t snapped.” Well, not in the way Aggie meant anyway. “He drank too much, and he’s passed out in the driveway.”
“Oh.” Her sister almost sounded disappointed.
“I need you to get hold of Keir and his brother. I’ll have to carry him into the house, and I can’t do it on my own.”
“You should leave him there to teach him a lesson.” Aggie might be telling her off, but Donna could hear the rustling as she got dressed, ready to come to her aid.
“He’s had enough hard lessons these past few months. He’s grieving, not partying. He’s been trying to drown his sorrows.” For months, by the looks—and the smell—of it.
Agnes sighed. “I’ll get the boys. We’ll be there soon.”
Grateful, Donna hung up and waited for them, spending the time clearing up the broken bottles and mopping the whisky from the reception hall floor. She would have liked to have been dressed in more than her robe when help arrived, but she didn’t dare leave Duncan alone in case he drowned in his vomit. Not that there was any sign of him waking up enough to empty his stomach. He was still out cold, lying on the frozen ground, beside the overgrown rose bushes that lined the drive.
Headlights announced the arrival of her helpers, and a minute later, Mairi’s ex-boyfriend climbed out of his truck. Keir had recently returned to town and bought the building that housed Arness’ only garage. It also held the flat where Mairi and Agnes lived. The purchase had been a calculated move on his part. Keir had come home to win Mairi back—so far, it wasn’t going well.
“So, this is the famous artist.” Keir crouched down to get a look at Duncan. “Poor bastard.”
“Thanks for coming out.”
He smiled up at her. “You can thank me by telling your stubborn sister how awesome I am.”
