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"I didn't lie." Maybe I had misled her, but I can't change that now. I take a shuffling step toward her. When she raises a warning hand, I halt. "I thought we were divorced but there was a clerical error. Aisley's taking advantage of it to renegotiate our divorce settlement. She wants everything."
"If she's taking you to the cleaners, how did you plan on paying for top-notch investigators to clear my name?"
"I said Aisleywantseverything. She's not getting it."
"Congratulations. You screwed over another woman." Erica moves toward the doorway, but I seize her arm to stop her. She does not glance at me. "If you think I'm like her, why are you helping me?"
"You are nothing like her. I know it."
"You talked me into a fling," she says, her voice strained and unsteady. "You said all those sweet things to me. And the first night at the bed-and-breakfast, you made love to me." She throws me a sidelong look. "It wasn't just hot sex. Youmade loveto me."
My fingers tighten on her arm because, aye, she's right. I had made love to her in the truest sense of the phrase. I'd worshiped her, body and soul.
She searches my face, but seems not to find what she wants to see in me. "You led me on, Lachlan. You used my body and broke my heart."
I release her arm and brush the backs of my fingers over her cheek. "These weeks with you were the best of my life. But you're better off without me." I let my hand drop to my side. "I've nothing left to give, except money."
"You are a bastard."
"Aye."
What else can I say? Nothing that matters. I brush past her and hurry out of the kitchen. As I race out the front door, slamming it shut behind me, I know only one thing for certain.
I will love Erica Teague for the rest of my life.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I fly home three hours after I walked away from Erica. Every airline is booked up for today, so I can't get a commercial ticket back to Scotland. I don't want to wait until tomorrow. Staying in America after shattering Erica's heart seems…unkind. Even if she will never know I didn't leave immediately. I suppose that's my guilt talking. Whatever the cause of my need to flee as quickly as possible, I charter a private jet to get myself home today. I pay hefty fees to make that happen, but I don't care about money.
Being alone in a Gulfstream jet for seven hours leaves me with nothing to do except think about Erica. I see her face in my mind, over and over, wrenched with agony when I'd told her I couldn't stay. Her words echo in my mind.
Don't leave me, Lachlan. I love you.
I grip the arms of my seat hard enough to make my knuckles hurt. Do I love her? Of course I do, but I hadn't realized that until after I walked out the door. Maybe I should have turned around and run back into the house to throw my arms around her and say those three words. But I couldn't do it. Not after everything I'd said and done.
You're a liar.Erica said that, and it's true. Not in the way she meant it, though. I couldn't bring myself to tell her how much I love her and implied I didn't want to stay with her. Those were lies, of a sort. I misled her, for certain.
Why did you call me your woman? Why tell me I'm more than a fling, I'm your gràidh? What the hell was all that about?
I'd meant every sweet word I ever whispered to her. I meant it when I made love to her at the bed-and-breakfast. Why else would I care so much about making her feel better and helping her with her legal problems? I've been in love with her for a while, possibly since the night we met. But Aisley had inflicted too many wounds, and I couldn't see past the pain and humiliation to recognize it when I had a good woman in front of me, a lass who loves me as I am, wounds and all.
Do you want to be with me? Do you love me?
When Erica asked me that, she hadn't sounded angry. Her voice had overflowed with the same sort of pain and fear I've lived with ever since the day I married Aisley. The question is no longer whether I love Erica, but whether she can ever love me again.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and bury my face in my upraised palms. I suck in shaky breaths, but I can't erase from my mind the image of Erica's anguished expression the last time I'd looked at her.
My mobile rings.
Slumping back in my chair, I fish the mobile out of my pocket. "What is it now, Rory?"
"Are you all right, Lachlan? You sound…rough."
Because I just walked away from the only woman I've ever really loved, and now she hates me.
I groan. "Do you want something? Or is this a harassment call?"
"You haven't responded to my text. Did you receive it?"
