Page 94 of Duke It Out
My body’s already moving. Keys, phone, get in the Defender.
“I’ll come with you.” Jamie’s at my shoulder.
“Bed.” I point to the study and the dogs slink back, not even trying to push their luck. I swipe open my phone and call the one person I don’t want to owe.
“Brice,” I bark. “I need a favour.”
36
EDIE
The dogs senseit before we do, stopping in their tracks and barking.
“Come on you two, we’re almost there.” Kate shakes the hip flask. “Time for a refill I think.”
My borrowed boots are caked in mud and my trousers are filthy and damp. I’m aching all over and can’t wait to climb into the bed in Kate’s little spare bedroom, but there’s something magical about knowing that my ribbon is out there, fluttering in the breeze, a little red scrap of hope tied to an ancient branch.
And then I hear it. A dull thud of sound at first, like distant thunder, then it draws closer, echoing across the hills.
Kate frowns, looking up into the last of the evening light. “Is that a helicopter?”
She pulls her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, squinting at the screen. Her brow furrows.
“It’s Janey. She says Rory’s out searching for you, in full on search and rescue mode. She’s tracked your phone, and they’ve traced it to the river.”
My stomach drops as I pat a hand on my hip. It’s not in my pocket. “Shit. I must’ve lost it when I fell.”
Kate’s already got her phone to her ear.
We round the bend onto the track that levels out in front of Kate’s cottage and the noise is deafening. A sleek black helicopter hovers overhead, then begins its descent below us into the wide stretch of moorland before the river path. The dogs are barking incessantly now, distressed by the noise.
Kate and I watch with stunned silence as it lands with precision. The rotor blades slow, sending up a storm of heather and moss. The door opens and Rory jumps out, dark hair dishevelled, his jaw set like granite.
His long legs eat up the distance between us and as he approaches Kate takes a step back.
He glares at me, absolutely furious. “Jesus Christ, Edie.” His voice is low and rough, half fury, half relief. “What the fuck are you doing out here? How did you get out of the river?”
Jamie jogs up behind him and takes Kate by the arm, muttering something in a low voice as he steers her away with the dogs. I’m left standing there facing the man who threw me out of his house just a few short hours ago.
“I was walking,” I say, raising my chin defiantly. “Or trying to. You threw me out, remember?”
He closes the distance between us in three long strides, his boots sinking in the boggy turf. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out here at night? You could have been lost in a peat bog or—” He rakes a hand back through his hair. “Or worse. We thought something had happened to you. When Janey realised she still had your location on her phone from when you went walking alone…”
“Something did happen to me.” I hate that my voicecracks as I speak. “You humiliated me in front of everyone. I didn’t even get a chance to speak.”
“You weren’t honest with me, Edie.” He’s facing me, painfully close. I catch the familiar scent of the expensive soap they use at Loch Morven, and I feel a pang of longing for something I’ve lost. “You signed an NDA and blew it when Anna read your work. And you didn’t tell me straight away. This” – he looks away for a moment – “this is my life. My history. Secrets and lies and?—”
“Secrets?” I say. “What is it you’re so afraid of, Rory? Everyone already knows your father was scandalous. His lies and his misdeeds – I left you a note before I left, telling you the part I wasn’t sure about. You could burn that and nobody would ever know.”
He tosses his head dismissively. “You have no idea. I’ve been trying to hold this place together,” he throws out an arm, gesturing to the sweep of moorland in the gathering darkness, “And I wasn’t even sure it was my fucking place to do it.”
I look at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“My whole life has been shaped by that bastard’s control and his lies.” He blows out a long breath. “I wasn’t even sure I—that I was his son.”
I’m too angry to take in what he’s saying. “Well, it’s pretty fucking clear you are. And that’s not a compliment.”
He flinches slightly, but I barrel on.
