There With You
An Adair Family Novel
Samantha Young
There With You
An Adair Family Novel
Book Two
By Samantha Young
Copyright © 2021 Samantha Young
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Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
This work is registered with and protected by Copyright House.
Cover Design @ By Hang Le
Contents
Also by Samantha Young
About the Author
Reader Information
Acknowledgments
1. Regan
2. Regan
3. Regan
4. Thane
5. Regan
6. Regan
7. Regan
8. Regan
9. Thane
10. Regan
11. Regan
12. Thane
13. Regan
14. Regan
15. Regan
16. Regan
17. Thane
18. Regan
19. Regan
20. Thane
21. Thane
22. Regan
23. Regan
24. Regan
25. Regan
26. Regan
27. Regan
28. Thane
29. Regan
30. Regan
31. Regan
32. Regan
33. Regan
34. Regan
35. Regan
36. Thane
37. Regan
38. Thane
39. Regan
40. Thane
41. Thane
Epilogue
Coming Soon
Also by Samantha Young
Other Adult Contemporary Novels by Samantha Young
Play On
As Dust Dances
Black Tangled Heart
Hold On: A Play On Novella
Into the Deep
Out of the Shallows
Hero
Villain: A Hero Novella
One Day: A Valentine Novella
Fight or Flight
Much Ado About You
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On Dublin Street Series:
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On Dublin Street
Down London Road
Before Jamaica Lane
Fall From India Place
Echoes of Scotland Street
Moonlight on Nightingale Way
Until Fountain Bridge (a novella)
Castle Hill (a novella)
Valentine (a novella)
One King’s Way (a novella)
On Hart’s Boardwalk (a novella)
Hart’s Boardwalk Series:
The One Real Thing
Every Little Thing
Things We Never Said
The Truest Thing
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The Adair Family Series:
Here With Me
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Young Adult contemporary titles by Samantha Young
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The Impossible Vastness of Us
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The Fragile Ordinary
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Young Adult Urban Fantasy titles by Samantha Young
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Warriors of Ankh Trilogy:
Blood Will Tell
Blood Past
Shades of Blood
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Fire Spirits Series:
Smokeless Fire
Scorched Skies
Borrowed Ember
Darkness, Kindled
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Other Titles by Samantha Young
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Drip Drop Teardrop, a novella
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Titles Co-written with Kristen Callihan
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Outmatched
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Titles Written Under S. Young
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True Immortality Series:
War of hearts
Kiss of Vengeance
Kiss of Eternity: A True Immortality Short Story
Bound by Forever
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Fear of Fire and Shadow
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War of the Covens Trilogy:
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Hunted
Destined
Ascended
About the Author
Samantha Young is a New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author from Stirlingshire, Scotland. She's been nominated for the Goodreads Choice Award for Best Author and Best Romance for her international bestseller On Dublin Street. On Dublin Street is Samantha's first adult contemporary romance series and has sold in 31 countries.
Visit Samantha Young online at http://authorsamanthayoung.com
Instagram @AuthorSamanthaYoung
Facebook http://www.facebook.com/authorsamanthayoung
There With You includes a content warning for readers who might find certain subject matter distressing. If you would like to see the content warning for this book please click HERE.
Acknowledgments
Living in Ardnoch with the Adair siblings continues to be a beautiful escape from a difficult year, and I hope it provides a wonderful escape for my readers too.
For the most part, writing is a solitary endeavor, but publishing most certainly is not. I have to thank my wonderful editor Jennifer Sommersby Young for always, always being there to help make me a better writer and storyteller.
Thank you to Julie Deaton for jumping on to proofread There With You in the final hours! I appreciate it so much and thank you for catching those sneaky Britishisms that creep into my American characters’ dialogue now and then.
And thank you to my bestie and PA extraordinaire Ashleen Walker for handling all the little things and supporting me through everything. I appreciate you so much. Love you lots!
I want to say a huge thank you to Catherine Cowles, who not only let me to ramble on and on about Regan and Thane’s story for weeks, lol, but was also so generous with her time as to read an early copy of their romance. You are an amazing light of support and kindness in the book community (and beyond!), Catherine, and I’m so very grateful for your friendship!
The life of a writer doesn’t stop with the book. Our job expands beyond the written word to marketing, advertising, graphic design, social media management, and more. Help from those in the know goes a long way. A huge thank-you to Nina Grinstead at Valentine PR for your encouragement, support, insight and advice. You’re a star!
Thank you to every single blogger, Instagrammer, and book lover who has helped spread the word about my books. You all are appreciated so much! On that note, a massive thank-you to the fantastic readers in my private Facebook group, Sam’s Clan McBookish. You’re truly special and the loveliest readers a girl could ask for! Your continued and ceaseless support is awe-inspiring and I’m so grateful for you all.
A massive thank-you to Hang Le for once again creating a stunning cover that establishes the perfect visual atmosphere for this story and this series. You amaze me!
As always, thank you to my agent Lauren Abramo for making it possible for readers all over the world to find my words. You’re phenomenal, and I’m so lucky to have you!
A huge thank-you to
my family and friends for always supporting and encouraging me, and for listening to me talk, sometimes in circles, about the worlds I live in.
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Finally, to you, thank you for reading. It means the everything to me.
1
Regan
The Scottish countryside was pretty epic, a contrasting yet perfect combo of lush and rugged, bright grass greens, muddy browns, and ambers. Smooth, rolling hills and then startling peaks and troughs. But I remained untouched by its heroic scenery as the cab drove through the Highlands from Inverness-shire to Sutherland. To Ardnoch Estate. I could see it with my eyes, but I couldn’t feel it with my heart. I couldn’t feel anything past the nervous churning in my gut.
My decision to flee Boston for Scotland only hit me as the flight from London descended toward Inverness. The Highland airport couldn’t have been in a more picturesque spot, sitting near the banks of a lake, or a loch as they call it in Scotland. The water was surrounded by the hills that immediately came to mind when anyone said the words Scottish Highlands.
Yet I’d wanted to vomit as soon as the wheels juddered on impact with the runway.
Knee bouncing as I watched the time on my phone tick by, I tried to regulate my breathing. The winding roads were not helping my nervous nausea.
“How much farther?” I asked the driver. Again.
He stared at me in the rearview mirror. “We’re only about ten minutes away fe Ardnoch.” His brow furrowed. “Ye sure they’ll let ye in? A long way ta come ta be turned away.”
This would be the third time he’d asked. And for a reason. Our destination was Ardnoch Castle and Estate, an exclusive members-only club for the film and TV industry’s elite. To join, potential members had to pay an extortionate fee on top of annual dues. Its owner was an ex-Hollywood action star, the Scottish actor Lachlan Adair. The estate once belonged to his family, and he’d turned it into a prestigious members-only club.
And I knew all that because he’s dating my big sister.
“I’m sure.”
The thought of Robyn made those butterflies in my belly swarm. I couldn’t wait to see her, and yet I dreaded it. I’d made so many mistakes, and I didn’t know how to fix them.
I’d never been good at admitting when I was wrong or knowing how to turn things around. Robyn had always been my guide. Not anymore.
A horrible ache flamed in my chest, joining the butterflies.
“I’ve never had a fare wantin’ ta go ta Ardnoch. Aye, ma wife will find this aw a bit interesting, I’ll tell ya that. She’s fascinated by aw yone celebrity stuff, ye ken. Makes me take day trips yone way ta see if she can catch a wee glimpse of a famous person. Or Adair himself. We’re fe Macduff, nor-east of here, an’ we moved ta the Sneck—that’s Inverness, ye ken—a few years back ta be nearer ta the bairns and the granbairns, but sometimes I think ta maself the wife moved us here ta be nearer ta Ardnoch.” He chuckled, completely oblivious that I couldn’t understand a damn thing he was saying. Did everyone in Scotland speak like this? If so, I was screwed.
“’Tis a good thing ye arrived on such an auspicious day. Ta see the Highlands in aw its beauty. But be prepared, it can be a right dreich place and summer will be fast endin’. I hope ye packed mare than yer dookers? Ye got yer ganzies and yer wellyboots wi’ ye? ’Cause it’ll turn from right mochie ta right oorlich faster than ye can blink.”
It sounded like there was a question in there. “Yeah?” I answered.
“Aye, aye, that’s good. A well-prepared lass, that’s what I like ta see.” He peered at me in the rearview. “Ye sure ye’re awright? Yer lookin’ a wee bit peelie-wally back there?”
I understood half of that. “I’m okay.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. Part of me was shit-scared to see Robyn again, but I was so relieved to be out of Boston and heading to one of the most heavily secured estates on the planet. Especially since one of their former members went all stalker/murderer on Lachlan and my sister.
The thought made me flinch. I couldn’t face the idea of something happening to her. Which was why our relationship was in the mess it was in.
My visit to see Robyn was so past overdue. There was no excuse for it.
Robyn, my big sister, my hero, the love of my freaking life, probably hated me.
What did I do?
How did I approach her?
With my usual easy-breezy Regan way?
Or did I get down on my knees and beg her to forgive me?
I winced just thinking about the latter. I wasn’t a “get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness” type. And yet, no one deserved an apology more than Robyn. She’d been through the toughest eighteen months of her life. And where was I?
Hiding.
Like a coward.
Biting my lip against the fresh tears pricking my eyes, I stared unseeing into the woodlands as we passed. There was never a better time for me to put my acting skills to good use.
“Almost there,” the driver announced, and I heard his turn signal moments before we turned right down a short gravel drive. A vast brick wall and massive wrought iron gate abruptly blocked our way.
“What now?” I asked.
“Dinna ken.” He craned his neck around to look at me. “De ye have the number of someone inside?”
I did. I had Robyn’s international number, but I’d never used it. And I was kind of hoping there would be a run-up to seeing her. Maybe it would be Uncle Mac who came to the gates.
The thought of Uncle Mac caused some confliction. Part of me was excited to see Robyn’s birth father, but another part still hated him for how much his abandonment had hurt her.
Robyn and I are half sisters. My dad is Seth Penhaligon, a Boston detective. Robyn’s dad, Mac, is Scottish and met our mom, Stacey, when he came to the States to live with a relative. He lied about his age (he was only sixteen!) and got our college-age mom pregnant with Robyn. They split soon after, and Mac introduced Mom to my dad. By then, Mac was a cop, along with Dad, though Mac eventually left the police force and got into private security.
I’d adored Uncle Mac. He was this big, handsome Scot who told the most amazing stories. When I was around eight and Robyn was twelve, he took a job as part of the young Hollywood actor Lachlan Adair’s private security team. Other than a visit when Robyn was fourteen, she never saw Mac again.
Until almost six months ago, when she’d come to Scotland to hash things out with him. Mac was now head of security at Ardnoch Estate.
And boy, Robyn had gotten a lot more than she’d bargained for.
Self-reproach was a knife across my gut.
“Well?” the cabbie asked.
“Uh …” I glanced down at my phone. Well, damn. I’d thought there would be a security booth with a guard in it at the gate. Before I could launch into a feeble explanation about why I didn’t want to call the one person who could grant me access, the driver said, “Someone’s comin’.”
I glanced up and saw a black Range Rover coming down the gravel drive surrounded by dark woodland on either side. The vehicle stopped and a man got out. He was stylish for a security guard, wearing black suit pants and a beautifully tailored black shirt, along with very cool sunglasses. I noted a wired earpiece in his left ear.
“That’s yer cue,” said the driver.
Taking a deep breath, I got out of the cab, my stiletto heels wobbling on the gravel. Straightening my shoulders and pasting on a bright smile, I sashayed toward the gate, ignoring the slip of my heels.
“This is private property. I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the man behind the gate said in a softer Scottish brogue that I could actually understand.
“I don’t think so, handsome.” I grinned, wrapping a hand around a bar of the gate. “I’m here to see my sister.”
His expression (what I could see of it behind the glasses) didn’t change. “And who might that be?”
“Your boss’s babe.”
“Elaborate.”
Despite
my nervousness, my smile was genuine. This guy was a hoot. “I’m Regan Penhaligon. Robyn’s sister.”
I thought I detected a slight change in his demeanor, but I wasn’t sure. “Do you have identification?”
“Uh, I have my passport.”
“I’ll need to see it.”
“Wow, you guys really do take your security seriously, huh?” Works for me, I thought, as I wandered back to the cab and pulled open the back passenger door.
“Everythin’ awright?” the cabbie asked as I rifled through my large purse for my passport.
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