Faith (Beach Brides Book 11)

by Helen Scott Taylor

  “I was twenty-one when Gus was born, and I had no idea I was going to be a father.”

  “Gus’s mother didn’t tell you?”

  “I didn’t know her.”

  “But you must have— Oh.” Faith curled her toes inside her sleeping bag, wishing she had thought before she spoke.

  “I was at college in Edinburgh studying wildlife conservation management. I met Nadia at a friend’s twenty-first birthday party. It was just a one-night thing. She made no effort to contact me again, and I was busy. I forgot about her.”

  There was something in Hew’s tone that made Faith’s chest tighten. Guilt maybe, sadness certainly.

  “I heard nothing more about her until Social Services in Manchester called me.” He paused, and the wind outside howled around the bothy. “Nadia died a few hours after giving birth to Fergus, but in that time, she named me as his father. I was recorded on his birth certificate.”

  “That must have been a shock.”

  Hew laughed mirthlessly. “As far as I was concerned back then, it was the end of life as I knew it. My father was furious, sure Nadia must have known we had money and set me up on purpose, planning to fleece me for child support. Maybe he was right. I don’t know. All I know is that I turned up in Manchester, all fired up to demand a DNA test. Then I saw Gus, a wee helpless lad with a tuft of dark hair. The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew he was a Mackenzie. My son.”

  Tears filled Faith’s eyes as she imagined the scenario. “Did they let you take him home with you?”

  “No. They did a home visit first to make sure I was a fit parent. I was still living at Kindrogan Castle back then. Not sure what they made of that.” He laughed. “Megan, was on hand to sweet-talk them, and it worked. It was Meg who helped me look after Gus. She became his mother in all but name. I was a wreck those first few months, conflicted over wanting my son and being angry that I had to give up college to look after him.”

  “You don’t regret it, though?”

  “No. Never. Gus is the best thing that ever happened to me.” His heartfelt tone brought more tears to Faith’s eyes.

  “I do regret not finishing my degree, though.” He sighed. “In a family of highly educated professionals, it’s not easy being the odd one out.”

  “You said you were studying conservation management. Surely, if you’d graduated, you’d still be doing exactly what you are now.”

  There was a moment of silence. “Yes.”

  “Then ten years down the line, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

  He didn’t seem to want to acknowledge this, so she didn’t push the issue.

  “From what I’ve seen, you’re a wonderful dad.” She wanted to make him feel better about things.

  “Thank you.” He shifted, stretched an arm out of his sleeping bag towards her, and rested the back of his hand on his pack where it lay on the floor between them. He wriggled his fingers.

  Faith reached out, laid her palm against his, and large calloused fingers closed around hers, strong and gentle. They stayed like that for a long time, listening to the wind howling outside. Then Hew released her, got up, and moved his sleeping pallet beside hers.

  Faith’s heart jigged as he settled on his side facing her, only a few inches between them. He took her hands in his, brought them to his mouth, and pressed his lips to her knuckles, staring into her eyes, his own so dark and solemn, yet gentle as well.

  She expected him to move closer, kiss her properly, but he stayed where he was, their hands clasped between them, and closed his eyes. Soon his breathing fell into the even, shallow rhythm of sleep.

  Faith closed her eyes, sure she had never met a man like Hew Mackenzie in her life.

  Chapter Eight

  Faith stood beneath the shower and let the water flow over her hair and down her body, absorbing the welcome warmth. Being stranded on a mountain in a cabin in a snowstorm for the night really made her appreciate home comforts such as hot water.

  They were lucky that when they woke this morning, the storm had passed, and they managed to hike to the car park at the bottom of the forest where one of Hew’s estate workers picked them up. His four-wheel-drive vehicle was equipped with snow chains, but the ride back to Kindrogan Castle was still hairy on the narrow mountain roads.

  The track from the castle to Kinder Vale had been cleared, and as long as there was no more snow before she had to leave the following day, she should be able to catch a train back to Edinburgh in time for duty on Tuesday. She almost wished it would snow again so she could stay a few more days with Hew, to get to know him better. Her initial impression that he would be difficult to make out was wrong, and she very much liked what she knew so far.

  Faith sang softly to herself as she washed her hair, then stepped out and dried herself. She blow-dried her hair, dressed in warm clothes, and added a touch of makeup before heading downstairs. On Monday, before he dropped her at the train station, Hew had promised to take her to the veterinary clinic in Kinder Vale so she could meet the senior partner, Greg Coburn. This afternoon, Hew had invited her to walk around the loch to visit his cottage.

  She ran downstairs, the weariness from the hiking washed away by the warm shower, and followed the sound of voices. She found herself at the door to the estate office, situated off the hall in the opposite direction to the kitchen. Hew sat behind a huge old oak desk staring at a laptop, with Fergus in a chair beside him.

  Hew gave her his half smile as she walked in. She’d first thought his guarded expression meant he was difficult to please; now she realized he was simply wary of displaying his emotions. When he’d confided his past, she’d sensed that the death of Fergus’s mother had affected him deeply. He obviously felt guilty, even though he had known nothing of the pregnancy.

  Fergus jumped up and grabbed a bottle from the windowsill. He held it out to her, and she took it with a wry smile. It was the prosecco bottle containing her message she’d tossed into the Caribbean Sea nearly three years ago. Some of the other girls in the Romantic Hearts Book Club had met their life partners through their bottles.

  “Oh my. I won’t forget this in a hurry.”

  Faith had believed her bottle must be lost in the depths of the ocean after this long, but now she wondered if there wasn’t something a little magical about the whole concept of throwing out a message in a bottle.

  She tapped the weathered glass with her fingernails. “Do you believe in fate?”

  “I do,” Fergus piped up. “You were meant to meet Dad. That’s why the bottle washed up on Stonehaven beach for me to find.”

  Hew laughed. “You’ve spent too much time with Auntie Meg filling your head with romantic nonsense, lad.”

  “Faith,” Fergus said, “you and Dad spent the night together in the bothy.”

  “Um, yes.” Faith wondered where he was going with this.

  “Isn’t that romantic?” He blinked at her as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

  Faith choked back a laugh.

  “Not with Don snoring a few feet away, it wasn’t.” Hew ruffled his son’s hair. “Definitely too much of Auntie Meg’s influence, I think.” He gestured for Fergus to stand up. “Off you go, and ask Auntie Naomi to make a cup of tea for us. I want to show Faith the golden eagle data we have.”

  As Fergus stomped off sulking, Faith perched on the swivel chair the boy had vacated and set the bottle on the desk in front of her, eager to find out more about Hew’s work. Clicking his mouse, he brought up a satellite image of the Cairngorms. He swirled the pointer over the many blue lines that patterned the image, then clicked and the lines changed to yellow.

  “These blue and yellow tracks represent the flight paths of the two juveniles we put radio trackers on last breeding season.”

  Faith leaned in, fascinated by the expanding pattern of their movements as they gradually explored farther from their nest sites.

  “It’s easy enough to know where they are during the breeding season, but we had no idea where they would
go once they fledged. You can see these two juveniles have roamed quite a way from their parents’ nest site. They visit the feeding stations we put out for them, but they will also be striking out to find breeding territories of their own.”

  They talked about the research for a while, and Faith was particularly interested in the health records Hew obtained by not only observing the birds, but also periodically catching them and performing health checks.

  “Greg, who I’ll introduce you to on Monday, has actually been up to treat the young male bird after he had a set-to with a fox at one of the feeding stations.”

  “Wow.” For a moment, Faith imagined herself up on the fells in the spring, among the budding heather, helping Hew catch and health check the young golden eagles. But that wouldn’t happen, of course. Her contract in the army didn’t end until June, and they could send her anywhere in the world before then.

  Fergus returned with three cups of tea and a plate of shortbread petticoat tails on a round metal tray. He set it carefully on the table. Although Faith had eaten lunch shortly before her shower, she couldn’t resist taking one of the melt-in-the-mouth pieces of shortbread. Hew and Fergus did the same.

  “Right.” Hew finally shut his laptop. “Time to stretch our legs and wander over to Boathouse Cottage. There’s something I want to show you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Tilly and Pup dashed after Fergus as he kicked snow about, excited like a wee lad. Hew hadn’t really thought about it before, but he rarely saw Fergus play in the snow these days.

  “Come on, Dad. Come on, Faith. Let’s have a snowball fight.” With a handful of compressed snow, Fergus charged towards them and let fly.

  “Careful,” Hew called, too late as the snowball thumped into Faith’s chest and exploded, giving her a mouthful of ice crystals.

  He needn’t have worried. She wiped off her grinning face and bent to make her own snowball.

  “You’re in for it now, mister.” She took off after Fergus, who ran away screaming, the dogs jumping at his heels.

  Hew paused to enjoy the spectacle of his son having fun, and their beautiful houseguest clad in a pale blue ski suit, her slender, athletic form holding his gaze. His initial feeling of possession had grown and transformed into a sense of longing.

  When Fergus was a baby, Hew had made the decision not to have relationships with women and confuse the boy. Megan more than filled the need for a maternal role model in Fergus’s life, and Hew wanted to give his son his undivided attention. Over the years, that had become a habit.

  Watching Faith play with Fergus, Hew acknowledged that might have been a mistake, for both himself and his son. There were nights when he lay in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, hoping for sleep to carry him away from the loneliness.

  Pup jumped up at him, leaving snowy paw prints on his leg, as if trying to persuade him to join in with the fun. He bent to pick up a handful of snow and as he did, a snowball smashed into his shoulder.

  “Hey.” He pivoted and tossed his half-formed snowball at his assailant, fully expecting it to be his son, and sucked in a breath as he hit Faith on the side of the head. Chunks of snow stuck to her blue hat and caught in her hair.

  She laughed, scooped up two handfuls of snow, and tried to stuff them down the back of his neck. Despite the freezing water soaking into his clothes, his pulse quickened at the feel of her body pressed against his back, her gloved hands on his neck.

  “Come on,” Fergus shouted. “Let’s race. Last one home is a flea-bitten sloth.”

  They took off after Fergus, laughing, Faith hanging on Hew’s arm to try to slow him down. “No fair. You’re used to wading through snow.”

  “I am, that.” He pretended to try to shake her off, all the while hoping she’d hang on tighter.

  By unspoken agreement, they slowed to a walk as they neared Boathouse Cottage. At some point, Faith’s hold on his arm had changed, and she’d slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow. Now they walked arm in arm, pleasure tingling through Hew at the connection.

  When he was with Faith, the snow sparkled more brightly, the air tasted fresher, and the wind sang melodiously through the pine trees. Hew’s heart beat with a noticeable thump, as if it didn’t want to be forgotten.

  Why had he been so determined he didn’t want a woman in his life? If Fergus hadn’t been insistent, Faith would never have come to Kindrogan. Yet just because he liked her, that didn’t mean she liked him in the same way.

  “Here we are. Home sweet home.”

  Hew took the key from underneath the river rock by the door and let Faith inside the cottage that he and Fergus shared. At least it was clean and tidy, although no thanks to him, of course. The cleaning lady who worked for all the Mackenzies had been in a couple of days earlier. Since he and Fergus had been staying at Kindrogan over Burns Night weekend, they hadn’t managed to mess the place up yet.

  “This used to be a boathouse?” Faith halted, pulling off her blue hat as she gazed towards the folding glass windows at the front of the property by the waterline.

  Before Hew could explain how he’d had the place converted, Fergus grabbed Faith’s hand and tugged. “I want to show you my room.”

  Faith cast a smile over her shoulder at Hew, then followed Fergus.

  Hew tagged along to stand in the doorway while his son showed her all his treasures—fossils, animal bones, drawings, computer games, books, and much more. She asked lots of questions, appearing to be genuinely interested.

  Hew’s chest tightened at the sight of his son’s earnest face. It was obvious Faith’s opinion mattered to him, and she was doing everything right. Could it be that, as wonderful as Megan had been with Fergus, he had missed not having a mother?

  The guilt that rose with that thought made Hew turn away and close his eyes for a moment. He knew intellectually that he was not to blame for Nadia’s death, but he couldn’t stop feeling he was partly culpable. He couldn’t cope with more guilt. He dealt with his feelings the same way he always did, by distracting himself.

  “Who wants a cup of tea?” he said.

  “I’d kill for a coffee instead. I couldn’t see a coffee machine at the castle, and everyone else was drinking tea so I didn’t want to ask.”

  “Hmm. We are a little old-fashioned, I suppose.”

  He left her guessing on the coffee situation as she followed him into the kitchen. At the sight of the coffeemaker on his counter, she squealed and gave him a quick hug. That halted him and rooted his feet in place for a few heartbeats before he started to breathe again.

  Keep cool. Don’t let her know you’re a sad wally, he told himself.

  With cups of coffee in hand, Hew and Faith walked from the open-plan kitchen into the living room area. They stood side by side at the tall glass windows overlooking an icy Loch Kinder towards the mist-topped mountains on the far side.

  “This has got to be the most fabulous view out a window I’ve ever seen.” Her expression was full of wonder. “You are so lucky to live here.”

  “I know. Despite the weather, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

  He explained how he’d designed the interior layout of the cottage and overseen the conversion and extension of the old tumbledown boathouse into his home, preserving the historic roof timbers and local stone so it maintained its character and blended with the countryside.

  She glanced around, her eyes wide. “You have a beautiful home.” Her gaze caught on the painting on the wall over the sofa, a white-tailed eagle soaring over the loch with the mountains in the background. “Wow. That’s beautiful. It looks just like the view out through your window.”

  “It is.”

  “The artist was here when he or she painted it?”

  Hew nodded. After the way she’d praised the picture, would it be conceited to admit it was his work?

  She must have read something in his expression. A thoughtful frown creased her forehead. “Hew, did you paint this?”

  “That’s what I do
in my spare time.” He led her to the extra bedroom that had become his painting storeroom. Opening the door, he stepped aside so she could see the canvases propped against the walls. “I want to give you one as a memento of your visit, if you’d like.”

  She glanced at him and then headed into the room, carefully turning or lifting each canvas to see the pictures. “Wow. Just wow. These are amazing. Why aren’t you selling them?”

  He shrugged. His relatives praised his work, but they were family. They would say whatever they thought he wanted to hear. “I’m not sure I’d dare ask someone to pay me for them.”

  “Look, even though you’ve got lots of money and you don’t need to sell them, it’s a waste having them shut up in here. They should be adorning walls, bringing people pleasure. What about having a charity auction and selling them to raise money for a Scottish wildlife organization?”

  “That’s a good idea.” If they were auctioned, then people would bid what they wanted to pay, and it wouldn’t bother him to take money for them.

  As Hew watched Faith in his home, he flashed forward twelve months and imagined having her with him when they celebrated next Christmas at Kindrogan Castle. For the first time, he’d have a partner and not be the sad odd-one-out. Yet before he got ahead of himself, he had to be up front with her and admit his circumstances. He rubbed the side of his hand over his lips.

  “There’s something you need to know.” Hew looked down, wishing he was a little more eloquent like Daniel, or his brother Blair, who could talk for Scotland.

  “I don’t actually have much money.” He couldn’t meet her gaze, so he stared at his stacked canvasses, certain the words he was about to utter would screw up his hopes for the future. “This cottage is owned by Kindrogan Estate. In other words, it’s owned by my brother Duncan. As is the pickup I drive, and just about everything else I have.”

  He risked a glance up to find her frowning at him.

  “You must earn a decent salary from the estate?”