Page 109 of Lochlan

She hesitates, considering, while the light dies around us. I reach for her hand and this time she doesn’t pull away.

“Geordie was right. I was broken, full of rage and plotting revenge when I came to America. Life was work and endless affairs with women who I knew I couldn’t commit to. When the affairs ended, for whatever reason, I couldn’t feel regret for them leaving. You were different, and it scared me because I gave my heart once and I was badly hurt. Eventually, I was willing to try again with you.”

She shakes her head, looking down at our coupled hands. “We’ve been apart for months without any contact until now. Circumstances have changed. If we’d had a normal beginning, maybe…”

The heat of anger rises again because this is not a coming together, but an ending, and this is closure for us to move on. “You’re not willing to commit because you found someone else? Is it someone on the circuit or has Connell finally won you?”

The flush of her cheeks signals her irritation with me.

“If this is the end, I need to know,” I demand.

“Connell is an employee of MacTavish Cellars. You shouldn’t be aware of his life away from work; it’s a breach of privacy.”

This must be worse than I feared. “Tell me, lass. I’ll not hold it against the two of you. Understand that I need to know if I must move on,” I say, as if speaking to a child.

She sighs absently, running her thumb over mine. “We tried for a time, but we quickly realized we’re better as friends.”

I try not to be relieved that Connell is not a rival, but God help me, I am.

“Another man is not the reason,” she says. “I’m not comfortable with this solution you brokered with your family. There’s my training, and my schedule is grueling. This is not the time to build a relationship.”

I rake my fingers through my hair at the difficulty of this task. “If you don’t like what I’ve done, I’ll cut all ties with my family in Scotland. Geordie and I bought a winery in Santa Barbara. It’s close to your father, which is a convenience I thought you might like. As far as your Olympic dreams, I don’t care what you have to do or how long it takes. I’m going to entrance myself into your life so deeply, you’ll not be able to uproot me. I’ll not walk away from us unless you send me away.”

From her alarming lack of support for the suggestion, this was too much too soon. This was a mistake. I’ve misread her, or her feelings have changed. If we weren’t out at sea, she probably would have left.

I take a desperate last chance to change her mind, set my glass down, and place my hands in my blazer pockets. “I have something for you if you can guess in which pocket it’s hiding.”

Kenzie tilts her head, narrowing her eyes as if I’ve gone mad, and maybe I have. “Are you not willing to guess, lass, for a chance of a prize?” I say in my rough brogue.

She appears to have pity on me and points to my left pocket. I shake my head. “No, it’s not there. I’ll give you one more chance.”

She scoots towards me to pull my right hand out of my pocket. I open my palm to reveal a black velvet pouch.

Kenzie places her glass down to take the gift, looking at me as if she has a question.

“When I booked this trip to Mexico to see you, I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

Her fingers pull the strings to open the bag, she turns it upside down, and a wee lump of metal falls into her palm. The open bag also releases the scent of dried lavender the saleswoman slipped in before she drew the bag closed.

“Do you know what this is?”

She shakes her head, mesmerized by the slip of metal. “It looks like a brooch.”

“Aye, it is,” I agree. “They call it a luckenbooth. The piece you hold in your hand is an antique made of pewter fashioned almost two hundred years ago by a jeweler in the Royal Mile in Edinburgh.”

I slide closer to point out details. Kenzie is more fascinated with the piece than with me wanting to be near her. “You can tell it’s a luckenbooth from the crown, which represents Mary Queen of Scots and the heart that rests underneath,” I say, running my finger over the metal. “There are variations on the design from simple to elaborate. Some pieces have one heart; this brooch has two intertwined hearts with the symbol of the thistle, which unites both hearts.”

She smiles with recognition. “The thistle is the symbol of Scotland, meaning two Scottish hearts join?”

“Something like that,” I say, watching her examine the piece. “It’s tradition for a man to give this to his betrothed before the wedding and when they have their first child, the couple pins the brooch to the baby’s blanket to show the strength of their love.”

Her eyes glisten as her fingers close around the brooch, bringing it to her heart. I pull her to me, holding her tight, willing her to understand that I can be a better man for her.

“Forgive me, lass, sometimes it’s difficult for me to say what I truly feel. I’ve forgotten the most important part. That I love you and I want you to be my future in whatever way you choose, but for me, this is what I envision for us and our family.”

Her warm tears soak the light cotton of my shirt, and I hold her tighter to enjoy her in my arms again. “It took me awhile, but I realized I couldn’t go back to my cold, empty life of anger and affairs any longer,” I say, while breathing in the sweet floral fragrance of her hair. “Even if you decide we shouldn’t be together, I’ll reinvent my life closer to what I envisioned over three years ago.”

She looks up at me, eyes with dark smudges around her lower lashes from the stream of tears. She wipes the wet streaks away, smiling. “Does this huge boat have a bedroom because I want you to say you love me again in that rough Scot accent while we’re in bed.”

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