‘I just hope you don’t get hurt in the long run,’ Isla said. ‘I want you to be as happy as I am. I still can’t believe how wonderful it is to be married to Rafe, knowing he loves me more than anything. We’re both so excited about our Christmas baby.’
‘I’m excited about your baby too.’
It was hard not to feel envious of her best friend’s happiness. After a rough start, Isla and Rafe had finally come together again and were eagerly awaiting the birth of their ‘accidental’ baby. But would Layla’s marriage to Logan have an equally happy ending?
The odds were stacked against it and the sooner she got that straight and clear in her mind, the better.
* * *
Logan walked through the south garden at Bellbrae, the scattered leaves of the ancient deciduous trees crunching under his feet. The vivid reds and golds and bronze and yellows were like wild splashes of paint. The autumn air was crisp and redolent of the smell of cooling earth and leaf litter with a hint of the harsh winter to come. Each season at Bellbrae held its magic for him. The gardens and fields and Highlands beyond could be blanketed in white as thick as a pile of duvets and still stir him to the marrow. But unless Layla agreed to a marriage of convenience, he would have to say goodbye to this place. The land and home of his ancestors, the place where he felt deeply rooted to the estate as surely and securely as the ancient trees around him.
Logan waited for Flossie, his grandfather’s old Border collie, to keep up. She was sniffing around the tendon-like roots of an old oak tree. ‘Come on, Floss.’ He patted his hand against his thigh and the dog slowly waddled over to him, her tail wagging, her tongue hanging out of her mouth in spite of the chill in the air. He leaned down to scratch behind her ears, a pang jabbing him deep in his gut at the thought of what would happen to her if Robbie inherited the estate. The old dog would not cope with a move to another home and Robbie wouldn’t want to keep her.
Logan straightened from petting the dog and caught a glimpse of a slim figure walking through the archway of trees in the distance. With her wild chestnut hair and creamy skin and irregular gait, Layla looked as much a part of this landscape as heather on the Highlands. For years he had seen her moving about on the estate, reminding him of a faery or other mythic person. Touching her on the arm the day before had sent a shockwave of awareness through him—an awareness he found faintly disturbing. He would have to try harder not to touch her unless absolutely necessary.
The boundaries were not to be blurred and especially not by him.
Layla turned her head as if she had suddenly sensed him nearby. She clutched the front of her jacket around the front of her body and began to walk in his direction. ‘I was looking for Flossie,’ she called out to him, sweeping the cloud of her hair back over one slim shoulder. ‘I thought she might have gone out alone and got lost.’
Logan met her more than halfway across the wooded garden to save her from negotiating the treacherous tree roots. ‘I took her out with me earlier. Sorry to worry you.’ He turned back to look at the lumbering Border collie. ‘She’s slowed down a lot, hasn’t she?’
Layla bent down to ruffle the dog’s ears just where his hand had been moments earlier, her hair tumbling from behind her shoulders. He suddenly had an urge to run his fingers through her hair—to see if it was as soft and silky as it looked.
He curled his hands into tight fists and gave his willpower a pep talk. No touching. Hands off. Paper relationship only.
‘Yes, I noticed a big change after your grandfather passed,’ she said. ‘She misses him, don’t you, sweetie?’ She addressed the dog affectionately and was rewarded by an enthusiastic tail wag. Layla straightened and met his gaze. ‘We all miss him.’
For a moment, Logan wondered if his grandfather had planned this all along—a marriage between him and Layla. The old man had spent a lot of time with her over the last months of his life. And his grandfather had given her that loan she’d mentioned. After all, she had been the one to suggest he enter a marriage of convenience when they’d spoken in his grandfather’s suite in the north tower. Had that been deliberate on her part or just a throwaway line borne out of her love for Bellbrae?
And why the hell was he suddenly so cynical about her? She was part of the family—or close enough to being so. He couldn’t imagine Bellbrae without her.
Logan had taken it a step further by suggesting she offer herself as his paper bride. He still didn’t quite believe he had done that, but it had seemed a solution he could live with at the time. The only solution he could live with. ‘Did you ever speak to my grandfather about his intentions regarding the will?’
Her grey-green eyes widened in affront and her chin came up at a proud angle. ‘What are you suggesting? That I somehow put him up to changing his original will?’
Logan shrugged one shoulder with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. ‘You stand to gain quite a lot if you marry me. You said it yourself—the upstairs-downstairs thing.’
She coughed out a derisive laugh. ‘Newsflash, Logan. I’m not going to marry you. It would be beneath my dignity to marry someone who’s such an appalling snob.’ She swung away to walk back the way she had come but Logan caught up in one or two strides and clasped her by the wrist and turned her to face him.
‘No, wait,’ he said, suddenly aware of how tiny her wrist was, tiny enough for his fingers to overlap. Aware too, of the bergamot and geranium fragrance of her hair. Her eyes sparked with chips of ice, her rose-pink lips tightly pursed. It was a mistake to look too closely at her mouth. For years he had avoided doing so. It was soft and plump with her top lip shaped in a perfect cupid’s bow, with dimples either side when she smiled, which she was not currently doing.
‘I’m sorry, Layla. That was crass of me.’ He sighed and released her wrist, his fingers feeling strangely restless and empty when she stepped back.
She rubbed at her wrist as if he had given her a Chinese burn, her eyes still flashing. ‘I find your accusation deeply insulting. The last thing I want is for you to lose Bellbrae but I refuse to marry a man who is so deeply distrustful of my motives.’
Logan had always secretly admired her stubborn streak of pride. She hadn’t had the easiest start in life but she had made the most of the opportunities that had come her way after coming to live on the estate. She was a hard worker—too hard, he thought, given her leg—but it was a brave person indeed who took it upon themselves to tell her to slow down.
‘I can only apologise again. It was a stupid thing to say.’ He held her gaze, watching for any softening of her expression.
She appeared to be slightly mollified. Slightly, not fully. Her lips were still tightly compressed but the daggers in her eyes had been sheathed. For now. ‘Apology accepted.’ Her voice sounded a little gruff and she delicately cleared her throat and added, ‘But there’s another thing I find annoying. You’re assuming I don’t already have a partner.’
An invisible punch hit him in the chest and for a moment he couldn’t take a breath. He’d heard nothing about her love life recently...in fact, he couldn’t remember hearing anything about a boyfriend for years. But she spent heaps of time in Edinburgh these days with her cleaning business. She could have any number of lovers. And why shouldn’t she?
‘Do you?’ he asked, not sure he really wanted to know. But a current partner would be a problem. A big problem in more ways than he wanted to think about.
Her eyes fell away from his and twin spots of colour darkened on her cheeks. ‘Not at the moment.’
There was a small silence broken only by the rustling of the leaves at their feet as a cool breeze passed through the copse of trees. Some remaining leaves fell from the craggy branches overhead, floating down like over-sized confetti. What was it with the wedding imagery? Weddings were something he never thought of. He never even attended them, not if he could help it.
Layla’s gaze went to the elderly dog who was
now lying down at Logan’s feet. ‘What do you think will happen to Flossie if Robbie inherits Bellbrae?’ Her tone contained a chord of disquiet, the same disquiet he felt about his ruthless younger brother’s intentions. ‘Would you take her to live with you?’
‘She’s too old to travel and I’m on the road too much in any case.’ He exhaled a long breath. ‘He’ll probably have her put down.’
She gave an audible swallow and her wide eyes met his. ‘We can’t let that happen. She might be old and mostly blind but she still enjoys life. Your grandfather would spin in his grave if—’
‘If my grandfather was so concerned about Flossie, then why the hell did he write his will like that?’ Logan couldn’t strip back the frustration in his voice. His grandfather’s will had put him in an impossible situation. He felt cornered, compromised, blackmailed.
Layla’s teeth sank into her lower lip. ‘If I were to marry you, what would we tell people about us? I mean, are we going to pretend it’s a real marriage, or—?’
Logan rubbed a hand along the side of his jaw before dropping his hand back by his side. ‘I would prefer people to think it’s a genuine love match. I’m not sure who’s going to buy it, but still.’
Her chin came back up and the daggers were back glinting in her eyes. ‘Thank you.’ Her tone was distinctly wry.
Logan could have thumped himself for being so insensitive. ‘That came out wrong. I was thinking more about in terms of myself.’
A small frown appeared on her smooth-as-cream forehead. ‘Because of what you felt for Susannah?’ She paused for a beat and added, ‘What you still feel for her?’
Logan had never discussed with anyone the complicated relationship he’d had with Susannah. He didn’t even like thinking about how badly he had handled things. It was better to let people think he was still grieving the loss of his fiancée, but in truth he felt guilt rather than grief. Gut-shredding guilt that gnawed and clawed at him with savage teeth and talons.
So many mistakes he had made, costly mistakes that had ended in tragedy.
‘It’s pretty common knowledge I never intended to settle down with anyone after Susannah’s death,’ he said. ‘I guess my grandfather decided to take the matter into his own hands and force me to face my responsibilities as the eldest McLaughlin heir.’
The frown on her brow deepened. ‘So, who will your heir be? Or will you eventually leave Bellbrae to a nephew or niece if Robbie has children at some point?’
Logan hadn’t got to thinking that far ahead. His sole goal had been rescuing Bellbrae from being auctioned off to settle his brother’s gambling debts. Marrying to save the estate was a big enough step, siring an heir was a giant leap he wasn’t sure he was ready to even consider. Yet. He gave one of his carefully rationed smiles. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to help me with that?’
Her cheeks burned a fire-engine red and her plump rosy lips flattened to a thin disapproving line. ‘No.’ Her tone was as starchy as a prim Victorian Sunday schoolteacher’s.
‘Only joking.’ It was no joking matter but he refused to think about having a child. Hadn’t he done enough damage with his brother?
Layla shifted her gaze, but he noticed her small white teeth resumed their savaging of her lower lip. ‘I need to get back to help Aunt Elsie with something.’ Her voice was not much more than a mumble.
‘I need your final answer, Layla. Tonight, if possible. There are legal documents to arrange before we—’
‘I’ll see you tonight. At dinner.’
Logan nodded in agreement. ‘It’s a date.’
It had been a heck of a long time since he’d had one of those.
* * *
Layla sat with her great-aunt at the Bellbrae kitchen table half an hour later with a pot of tea and freshly baked cupcakes.
‘You’re not eating,’ Aunt Elsie said, pushing the tiered cake stand closer. ‘Is something on your mind?’
Layla took a cake from the stand and peeled the polka-dotted paper case off the cupcake. ‘I’m not sure how to tell you this...’ she began.
Her great-aunt paused in the action of sipping her tea, her light blue gaze wide with interest. ‘You’ve met someone?’
Layla only just resisted the impulse to roll her eyes. ‘No. It’s a little more complicated than that.’ She took a deep breath and added, ‘Logan’s asked me to marry him.’
Her great-aunt’s cup gave a tiny rattle as she placed it back in its saucer. ‘And what was your answer?’
Layla wasn’t sure what to make of her great-aunt’s mild expression. ‘Aren’t you surprised he proposed to me?’
Aunt Elsie reached for the teapot and topped up both of their cups with the rich brew. She placed the teapot back on its heat protector before responding. ‘Not one bit surprised. He’s known you since you were a wee child. He’s watched you grow up into a fine young woman. You’ll be a good wife for him. Loyal and steady and stable.’ She peered at Layla over the top of her bifocals. ‘You said yes, didn’t you?’
Layla nibbled at one side of her mouth. ‘I’m still deciding...’
Aunt Elsie sat back in her chair, lifted the little milk jug to pour some into her tea and then set the jug back down on the table. ‘You’d be mad to refuse, my girl. He’s a good man. A bit on the quiet side but you don’t want a husband who talks more than he listens. He’ll take good care of you.’
Layla broke off a piece of cupcake with her fingers. ‘He only wants to stay married for a year to secure the estate. If he doesn’t marry within three months, Bellbrae will automatically pass to Robbie.’ She put the small portion of cake in her mouth, chewed and swallowed, continuing to gauge her great-aunt’s reaction.
Aunt Elsie stirred her tea into a small whirlpool, glancing at her again. ‘I know about Angus’s will. He told me before he died.’
Layla frowned. ‘And you didn’t try and change his mind?’
Aunt Elsie sighed and picked up her cup again. ‘There isn’t a person alive or dead who could change that man’s mind. Angus was frustrated Logan hadn’t moved on from losing Susannah. Sure, he has casual lovers occasionally but his grandfather wanted him to settle down and do the right thing by Bellbrae. If marrying you is the only way Logan can see fit to do it, then so be it. You love this place and you love him.’ She made a toast of her last words by taking a sip of her tea.
‘Excuse me.’ Layla gave a choked laugh. ‘Not like that!’
Aunt Elsie arched her eyebrows. ‘Are you sure?’
Growing up, Layla had idolised Logan from afar. He had been a romantic fantasy any teenage girl would have drooled over. But it was a bit of a leap to describe her feelings now as love, or at least that sort of love. Although...that tiny secret smouldering coal inside her was still there waiting, waiting, waiting for enough oxygen to fan it into life.
Layla looked down at the cake crumbs on her plate and expelled a long breath. ‘It wouldn’t matter how I felt about him. It’s not going to be a proper marriage.’ She pushed the crumbs into a neat pile and then glanced back at her great-aunt. ‘It will be on paper only.’
Aunt Elsie’s eyes began to twinkle like they were auditioning for a new constellation in the northern hemisphere. ‘Of course it will.’
Layla gave an eye roll and stood to take her plate and cup and saucer to the sink. Her great-aunt was suffering a massive delusion if she thought Logan would be remotely interested in sleeping with her. She had seen photos of Logan’s casual lovers. She had seen his fiancée Susannah in the stunningly beautiful and unscarred flesh.
How could she ever hope to compete with that?
CHAPTER THREE
LATER THAT EVENING Layla fed Flossie and let her out for a comfort walk. When she got back, the old dog began to snore almost as soon as she settled back in her wicker basket in front of the fire in Angus’s study a few doors away from the kitchen. There was a pet
door in one of the back doors off the kitchen, but Flossie was too arthritic these days to get through it.
It was sad to see the old girl’s decline. Layla had only been at Bellbrae a couple of weeks when Angus McLaughlin had brought Flossie home as a playful and needle-toothed puppy. She had often wondered if he had bought the dog to help her settle in. She had asked him once but he’d dismissed the suggestion in his gruff and off-hand way.
Layla had spent many a happy time playing with Flossie, brushing her silky coat and taking her on walks about the estate, which had seemed so huge and terrifying when she had first arrived. But with the company of the ebullient puppy it had suddenly become a home. A home she could not imagine losing. Her happiest memories—the only happy memories she possessed—had been crafted and laid down here at Bellbrae.
Layla was putting the finishing touches to dinner shortly after when Logan strode into the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder and turned back to the pot she was stirring on the cooktop. ‘Dinner won’t be long.’
‘Where’s Elsie?’
Layla put the cooking spoon down on the ceramic spoon rest and turned and faced him, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘I gave her the night off. She hasn’t been doing so much cooking now your grandfather’s no longer with us.’ She waited a beat and added, ‘She knew about the change to his will.’
Logan frowned. ‘Thoughtful of him to share it with the household help but not with me.’
Layla pursed her lips. ‘You might think of Aunt Elsie as little more than a humble housekeeper but she has supported your family through every high and low of the last three decades.’ She whipped off her apron and flung it on the benchtop.
‘When your mother left when you and Robbie were little, when your father died, when Robbie went off the rails that first time in his teens. And when your grandmother died when you were away at university. Aunt Elsie has cooked and cleaned and consoled everyone, working long hours and forsaking a normal life of her own. Don’t you dare refer to her as just the help.’ Her chest was heaving like she had just run up one of the Bellbrae turrets. Three turrets. Possibly all twelve of them.
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