Page 54 of Wild Scottish Fortune

He just pressed two fingers to his mouth, reminding me of the kiss, and I turned, a smile at my lips.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Finlay

It hadn’t been pretty, to say the least.

The confrontation with my mother had resulted in me leaving Edinburgh earlier than planned, along with a warning to my mother about her behavior. She’d grown increasingly bitter since my father had died, but deliberately cruel was a new low that I wouldn’t be able to forget.

In time, I might forgive her, but for now, I had clearly and carefully outlined why she was in the wrong and what my expectations of her were moving forward. I set hard boundaries, limiting her access in my life, and most importantly? I cut her off from my bank account.

If anything, that had seemed the one thing that had upset her more than anything. Not that she’d hurt my friend’s feelings or embarrassed a woman that I greatlyadmired, but the fact that her endless stream of income was coming to an end was enough to send her into a rage.

It had been a difficult lesson for me to learn. It was hard to watch someone you loved make choices that didn’t align with your vision of them, like I had with my father. She’d always just been my mum, and I’d been protecting her since Dad had died. In fact, all I’d done was enable her laziness and lack of ingenuity. Mum was still of working age, well-educated, and capable of getting a job—or another rich husband, which was the route she’d likely take now that I’d cut her off. For years now I’d been working myself incessantly, squirreling away every last pound to keep her in the lifestyle she was accustomed to. Over and over she’d reminded me that the Thompson name meant something, and appearances were everything.

One act by her had burned that all to the ground for me.

I no longer cared about our reputation, nor about being at the upper echelon of society. At the end of the day, none of that mattered if you grew cold and callous, which my mother had. I feared I’d follow suit if I allowed her to dominate the trajectory of my life, and though this one moment for me had been the catalyst in dismantling our relationship, in reality this had been building for years now. Frankly, I felt freer than I had in ages, and I’d turned the music up and sang at the top of my lungs the whole way home from Edinburgh.

Home.

That was another interesting thought that had struck me on the drive back. Loren Brae was increasingly beginning to feel like a place that I wanted to grow roots in, andthough it was an unusual feeling for me, it wasn’t entirely unwanted. I had friends here, a business that I could look after, and there was Orla.

Beautiful, sweet, brilliant Orla.

That photo of her as a little girl had…gutted me. Not necessarily in pity, although there was a lot of that too. Butknowingthat the little girl had been so destitute, so bereft of a home, of love, had broken something inside me.How did she do it? How did she rise against that? How did she succeed?

And then there was that kiss. Did she have any idea how her kiss had knocked my knees out from under me? Had I not had to deal with my mother, I likely would have scooped her up and taken her back to her room, simply just to hold her for one second longer. She’d closed up on me, I saw it happening in real time when I’d said I’d had to see my mother, and now I needed to find her so that I could explain.

It was early evening when I pulled in front of her wee cottage, having gotten directions from Lia, and light beamed in the window. I’d gambled that she’d be home, knowing she’d likely gone directly to the site when she’d returned from Edinburgh, and had worked through the day. Picking up Orla’s neatly folded shawl, plus a small gift bag, I got out of the car and crossed to the front door. The soft evening light brushed against clean stone walls, likely recently power-washed, and a pot of red geraniums stood at the front door.

I knocked with the doorknocker—a wrought iron Scottie dog—and waited as I heard shuffling inside. The door cracked, just an inch, and Orla’s eye peered out at me.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” Orla opened the door a few inches wider, but didn’t step back and welcome me in.

“Delivering the shawl you left.”

“Oh, thanks?—”

Orla made to reach for it, but I held it back. No way was she getting this shawl and pushing me out. I’d only just made a chink in her defenses, and I wasn’t going to lose the leverage I’d gained.

“I also brought a gift.”

“Oh, you don’t have to buy me gifts, Finlay.” Orla worried her bottom lip.

“It’s not for you. It’s for Goldie.”

Orla narrowed her eyes at me, clearly considering if it would be rude to send me packing, and then sighed. Opening the door wider, she ushered me inside.

“Sorry, it’s a bit out of sorts in here. I’m just catching up on some paperwork.”

“Ah, yes, the never-ending joys of running a business.” I gave Orla space, since I could tell she was feeling self-conscious, and glanced around her place. Even though it was just one room, at least from what I could see, she’d made great use of the space. There was a cozy sitting area with a comfortable-looking love seat, a narrow table covered in ledgers and a laptop pulled close, and soft music pulsed in the background. A candle warmed the space, scented lightly of cinnamon or pumpkin, I couldn’t quite tell, and a see-through bookshelf separated her bed from the living area. It was cozy and welcoming, and perfectly neat. Orla took care of her stuff. “Need some help?”

I wandered closer to the piles of notebooks on her table and glanced down. Looked like payroll. She should reallyhave someone handling this for her, considering how many hours she spent on the job.

“Of course not,” Orla said, her back up. “I’ve got it.”

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