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What was he going to tell his dad about Elspeth? he wondered. His father wasn’t entitled to know anything about his life. Maybe he wouldn’t tell him anything. Just show up with a noticeably pregnant woman and let his dad work it out. It wasn’t as if he owed him an explanation.
But that wouldn’t be fair on Elspeth, he knew. It probably wasn’t really fair to take her up there with him at all. If she hadn’t suggested it—insisted on it—he wouldn’t have thought about doing it. He shouldn’t be letting anyone else see into the middle of the conflict between him and his dad. But he was going to—because she had offered and because, selfishly, he wanted her there.
He didn’t know what was going on between himself and Elspeth. Other than that they were both keeping a sensible distance from the fireworks that had got them into this situation in the first place. When they had been looking at the apartment the chemistry between them had been so hot that he had been tempted—so tempted—to forget all the reasons why they both knew it was a bad idea to be anything other than friends.
And now he had to go and see his father—the perfect reminder of where things led when you made decisions based on what your body wanted, rather than making rational, sensible decisions that protected everybody.
Talking about his father had cured him of that temptation. Or had put it in its proper place at least. He wasn’t sure he would ever be cured of wanting her, but the memory of what those sorts of emotions had done to his family was enough to keep his feelings in check. However much he might want Elspeth—and right now he wanted her in every possible way—the only way to keep his family safe and secure and together was to bury those feelings deep.
He dialled his father’s number and felt a heavy roiling anxiety as he waited for him to answer.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELSPETH WATCHED THE landscape change from the window of Fraser’s muddy black four-by-four as they drove north. The busy city streets gave way to the suburbs north of Edinburgh, a view of the water as they crossed the new bridge over the Firth of Forth, and then miles of lowland motorway surrounded by fields.
As the motorway gave way to A roads, mountains appeared on the horizon, heavy with snow. The sunlight caught the jewel-bright greens of the grasses and the trees in the fields, popping against the layered taupes and greys of the hills and Munros. Clouds shrouded the higher peaks, and the tops of even the lower hills were covered with snow.
It would be bleak up here in a cold snap, she thought, noting the snow poles either side of the carriageway, just in case the snow hid the road completely.
Elspeth shivered and cranked up the heating, glad that they had taken Fraser’s luxury car rather than her old wheelchair-friendly eco-wagon.
Elspeth was growing more and more edgy, she realised, as they racked up the miles between her and Sarah, but at least she knew her mum was there to keep an eye on things. After Elspeth, she knew Sarah’s needs better than anyone. And, although they had arranged for some respite cover to help out with the stuff that arthritis made difficult—lifting and transferring Sarah, the physiotherapy that eased the tightness out of her muscles—her mum would be there to supervise.
‘There are some blankets behind your seat if the heater’s not enough,’ Fraser said, spotting her fiddling with the controls and distracting her from her worry for a moment.
She reached behind her and tucked one of the blankets around herself, wondering what this journey would be like with a baby. They’d been on the road for a couple of hours now, and the landscape grew more beautiful, more dramatic, by the mile.
The lush greens of the lowlands had given way to the s
tarker browns and greys of the Cairngorms, broken up by the rich greens of the pine forests. And as the landscape had changed so had Fraser.
In Edinburgh he’d seemed almost cheerful, but Elspeth had been able to see the effort he was having to put in to the façade. There had seemed little point mentioning it, though, when they both understood how complicated his feelings about this trip were. If he wanted to cover his real feelings with false chirpiness, then that was his prerogative. But as they had drawn closer and closer to his childhood home the pretence had fallen away, and now she could see the tension in his features. In the stiff line of his shoulders and his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked, not expecting anything more than the ‘Fine’ that he forced out through gritted teeth.
He wasn’t exactly the ‘talking about his feelings’ type. Especially, she kept reminding herself, as they were only friends. Despite the bump that was growing large enough to make her uncomfortable from time to time.
She rubbed her belly without thinking, and it was only when Fraser said, ‘Everything okay in there?’ that she realised that he was watching her. Or at least glancing over at her whenever an occasional straight section of road allowed.
‘Aside from the dance party we’re all fine,’ she replied with a smile.
‘Dance party?’
‘The baby’s usually pretty active this time of the evening.’
‘Can I feel?’
Elspeth glanced at the twisting road ahead, pretty sure that she didn’t want Fraser driving without both hands on the wheel. But before she had a chance to register what he was doing he had pulled over into a gateway leading down a dirt track and was looking at her with earnest longing on his face.
‘Can I?’
Elspeth shrugged, trying to pretend that the thought of his hand on her body was something that only concerned her in her role as a mother. Trying to block out the memories of any other time his hand had stroked the soft, naked skin of her belly. This was it. This was who they were to each other now. Co-parents of this life growing—and apparently somersaulting—inside her.
‘Sure.’ Elspeth heard how steady her voice was and was quietly impressed with her composure.
She didn’t exactly feel steady inside. But it didn’t help her or Fraser for him to know that. She hitched up her T-shirt—she’d had to give in and buy some maternity tops the week before—and waited for the touch of his hand.
Though the car had warmed up, when Fraser’s hand brushed against her skin his fingers were like ice. She yelped and he pulled away, his face a picture of concern.
