Page 69 of Deception and Desire
*
Late August
MacNaughton Castle
Lachlan sat bythe hearth, the burning peat embers taking the chill from the stone walls of the castle. It had been a long two weeks. The journey home, with his brother in the coffin behind them, had been sorrowful yet thoughtful. His mind sorted out the events of the past summer. He tried to think if there had been anything he could have done to change the outcome. No more than Colin. His cousin still blamed himself for not being able to save Ian. Lachlan had tried to convince him that a man made his own decisions. Short of locking Ian in their room at the inn, nothing would have stopped his brother from attending the demonstration. Lachlan’s words had given neither of them any comfort.
Sorcha had sent word ahead to inform the family. Once they’d been within sight of the castle, it had seemed an eternity before they arrived in the courtyard. The family had gathered, waiting for Ian, as he made his final ascent up the lane. He’d heard his mother’s cries before he could see her tear-stained cheeks. Lissie had run to meet them, shaking her head and hanging on the side of the wagon, her hand caressing the coffin as they slowly trudged up the hill. Never had his heart been so heavy. But he did not shed another tear. He stood strong for his family and thanked Fenella for the ability to do so.
“What are ye thinking, Son?” asked his mother. Glynnis’s hands stayed busy; her steel knitting needles clacked together as she worked on her piece. “Will ye return to Glasgow soon?”
He nodded. “Aye.”
“Anyone waiting for ye there?” she asked, never taking her eyes from the pale green yarn.
Lachlan wasn’t ready to share that news yet. The situation with his grandfather hadn’t been decided. He’d hoped to settle it on his next visit, but this stay was about Ian, not the living brothers. “Truth be told, Ma, I like running the mill. I’ve missed my family here, but I prefer to work in Glasgow.”
Glynnis nodded, her auburn hair gleaming the same streaks of red and gold as his own. Her fingers stopped and her MacNaughton blue eyes held his.She kens,he thought.She’s always kent my mind.
“Weel, I canna say I’ll be glad for ye to leave again. If it were up to me, both my remaining lads would stay by my side.” She set the knitting on her lap. “But what I want most is for my children to be happy. Brodie would be miserable living in the city. I canna see him taking Ian’s place.”
“Will ye be all right, Ma? Ye’ve lost a husband and now a son. I can stay if ye need me.” He sighed, thinking of a willowy blonde, eyes the color of a frothy waves. He longed to hold her close again, let her warmth seep into his soul. “It may be Grandda willna let me have my way.”
“He’ll be content if his grandchildren are. He loves ye with a fierceness he doesna always show. Just give him time.” She smiled and picked up her knitting again. “I’ll have Brodie and Brigid. And Lissie has agreed to stay. At least for now.”
“Is she…” Lachlan knew if his sister-in-law was with child, she would stay at the castle with the bairn. Otherwise, he’d assumed she would return to her parents’ home.
“Nay, the poor lass was devastated when she kent she wasna pregnant. But she’s belonged to Ian since she was a girl. I think she draws as much comfort from us, as I do from her. So, for now, she remains.”
They sat in silence a while longer. “Did ye send any letters with Colin?”
“Aye,” she said, “I’ve written to Sorcha. She’s been a good friend, and her letter to me gave me succor.”
Guilt assailed Lachlan, watching Colin return so soon after the funeral without him. Yet, he could not leave his clan so soon. The memories, the stories, the well-wishers still dropping in that had missed the funeral were all part of the healing process. The balm his family provided with their closeness and shared grief gave him strength. The memories and stories told by friends and relatives helped them remember the joy Ian had given them in life rather than the anguish of his loss.
Glynnis stood up and stretched. “It’s time for me to find my pillow.” She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. “Fate works in its own time. Things will work out, ye’ll see.”
*
Early September
Glasgow
Lachlan hated leavingBrownie behind but his grandfather wanted to breed her. Calum’s own hound was growing old, and he’d argued she’d give them some fine pups. Lachlan agreed, though the howls as he left had been brutal. Now that he neared Glasgow, his mood brightened. He had dreamed of Fenella and woken in a cold sweat, hard with desire, more times than he cared to admit.
He’d made his decision on the long ride back. With so much time in the saddle, Lachlan had sorted through his feelings. The devil with his grandfather or his clan. He loved Fenella and would ask her to marry him. He’d be honest; he didn’t know where they would be or what they would do. But they would be together. Grandda could accept Lachlan for what he was, and accept the woman he loved, or he would not be a part of their life. Lachlan had not come to such a conclusion easily, but he would hold firm. If his mother was right, it would all work out in the end.
Lachlan didn’t stop at the townhouse. Instead, he went straight to Fenella’s and pounded on the door. She’d probably throw her arms around his neck and kiss him senseless. Then he’d apologize to Mrs. Douglas, and she’d invite him in for supper. He smiled as he lifted the knocker again, only to find himself face to face with a scowling MacGregor.
“Lachlan,” the older man said with a curt nod. “Hope ye’re well.”
“Is Fenella at home?”
“Aye.”
Lachlan’s eyes narrowed, his fists clenched as he held on to his patience. “May I speak with her?”
“Aye,” the man said and called up the stairs. “Miss Franklin, yer beau is here.”
