Page 63 of Love Thief

Evie comes out of the bathroom and sits next to me. “Are you okay to go to Scotland with Xan? I’ll come up as soon as I’ve sorted them. I’ll be there for his birthday, is that okay?”

She looks into my face and says, “Yes, it’s fine, but if you need me, I can come to Yorkshire.”

I hold her close. “No, it’s fine, stay with Xander.” I love that she’s offered to come support me. And as much as I’d like her with me, I know the level of disaster that is my family. I also know how much she dislikes my mother in general. I want to protect her from them as much as possible.

I open the door to find Xan sitting in the lounge area. I fill him in about Yorkshire and say, “Evie will go with you, is that alright? I’ll be there, Xan, you know I won’t be late.”

He shakes his head at me, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll come with you. I won't miss this for the world. I’ll ring dad and tell him just Evie’s coming and we’ll follow.” He switches to serious. “It’s my birthday, Marcus.”

I nod in understanding. “Okay, we’ll both go and sort out the rebellion.”

Smiling in anticipation, he grins at Evie as she comes towards us.

“All set?” she asks.

“Change of plan. Xan is coming to help me sort out the period drama, you go with Tommy up to Barclay House and we’ll follow asap. Xan wants to be home for his birthday, so it should only be a day, two max.”

She looks at us both and nods. “Don’t be long then,” she says and starts to move off. Turning back, I can see the vulnerability in her eyes, but she’s trying to put a brave face on it. “See you day after, yeah?”

I nod at her. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Chapter

Eighteen

EVIE

While Kell and Xan are going to Leeds and then across to Eastwood, Tommy and I climb the steps on the plane at Southampton for a relatively short flight into Inverness. From there, we’ll travel further north by car to Xan’s home near Loch Shinn, Barclay House. Xan is as bad if not worse in titles than Kellen for the number of titles in his family. According to Xan, his dad, also known as ‘Himself,’ is a clan chief as well as the Earl of Sutherland. Xander said his dad prefers all the Scottish titles he holds.

“Have you ever met Xander’s Dad?” Tommy asks.

“No, I don’t think I did. I can’t remember him, but we were young, and you don’t tend to bother with adults. I certainly avoided anyone staying in the house if at all possible. They all reminded me of Rowena, so, no,” I say shaking my head.

Tommy drives us to Barclay House and we arrive just as the dawn is breaking over the eastern side of the loch. It’s the most mystical sight. I gasp at the beauty of the rugged mountains in the background, the clear flat surface of the loch in the early light—it’s silent, but not somehow.

The house is not really a house, more a castle with a tall tower to the east with four turrets. It looks almost Disney-like, but the stone is grey. The house to the side is joined by a walkway, and it now has a glass roof. But obviously this is new, as the house has stood for three hundred years and would have been more a fortress to protect the locals rather than decorative. All six sets of windows are ivy covered, three story high, and the roof has windows in it at intervals as well.

The entrance is at the other end and has its own set of towers coming from it. It’s magnificent—pretty, dark, forbidding, welcoming.

Tarron Barclay stands filling the entrance and beckons us in. His well-worn, comfortable-looking kilt, dark blue with lighter blue stripes, swirls around him as he strides forward. Fit for an older man, grey flecks his still jet black hair. His eyes are exactly the same as Xan’s—the brightest blue, that I’m sure will be the same colour of the sky here in the Highlands. A similar height and build to Xander, and still a tour de force.

I go to shake his hand, but he ignores it, laughs, and pulls me to him to kiss both my cheeks and give me a hug.

“Family don’t shake hands, Evie. And from what my son tells me, you are definitely that.” He does however clasp forearms with Tommy, and I’m surprised to see Tommy nod at him, clearly impressed.

I mouth to Tommy, “What you doing?”

He points to the back of the Earl of Sutherland, and mouths, “Clan Chief.” I smile, amused with his behaviour. “I’ve never met one before,” he says quietly.

Tarron sorts the luggage and has it directed to our rooms. He turns to look us over and says, “Come on through. I've got food set up, and you may want a wee nap, but if not I can show you around.” We both smile at him and start to walk forward. “You look exactly the same, lassie.” His voice is a strange mix of incredibly posh English with a slight Scottish accent. With some very Scottish words thrown in.

I look at him in bafflement. “I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m sure I would have remembered you,” I say, frowning at him.

“Well we have, and I do remember you. How can you forget the girl who blew up her garden, and most of the surrounding area, with one of the Purcell boys. We definitely talked about you. Henry Russell was laughing for weeks about it. Poor Anthony was shell shocked, but he soon recovered and loved the attention, so I’m told.”

I stare at him before blurting out, “You were there that day?”

“Oh, yes. I’d called in to see Xan on my way back up from London. We were all out in the fields, having a look around, when the bomb went off.” He starts to laugh. Tommy is staring at me in wonder, shaking his head. “So you see, very memorable. I can still see you now, both of you, filthy black hair standing on end, with the Purcell boy clinging to your legs. I had to prise him off you. I think he cried for you for hours. Russell and Xan had to bribe him with ice cream, or he would have run back for you.”

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