Page 53 of Lochlan

“Please,” I say, “don't turn on the light. I might not have the courage to ask these questions in full light.”

We aren't in complete darkness; I can see his face clearly enough to judge if what he tells me is true. No need to worry; I doubt this soft-hearted man is capable of lying. “I know you and Lochlan are close. Will you tell me why he called off his wedding with Fiona?”

He twists his body in the seat to deliver his answer, and his eyes signal more seriousness. “We're close. I'd say I'm closer to him than his brother Harris, which isn't saying much. There's little I don't know about my cousin, but after asking several times myself, he's refused to give me an answer.”

“Ian says Lochlan and Fiona have known each other since they were children.”

“They've been together since they were teenagers. What's your real question? There's no point hiding your intention.”

I steel myself to ask what's been bothering me. “Do you think they'll get back together? If this is too personal, remind me it's none of my business.”

“That appears to be the question of the day. Truthfully, I don't know. If it comforts you, I'm hoping there won't be a reunion.”

The hour we spend in the dark helps my composure. It doesn't matter, I say to myself. I am playing a part.

We call for Aubrey to help us navigate this endless structure and lead us to the dining room. The too-large table is set for five people at one end. There should be a smaller room for dining. The kitchen must have a table to accommodate five people, but I can't see Ian agreeing to eat in the kitchen.

This is a formal, masculine space. A chocolate paneled wall along one side is broken by four large maple wood squares the size of a painting with light fixtures over each faux painting square. There's no need for art on this wall, not with wide floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides of the room that open a spectacular view to this side of the land surrounding the house.

Geordie and I are in the far corner of this space, discussing the motives of a murderer, when Ian strolls in with Fiona on his arm. I breathe an unintended sigh of relief that Lochlan and Fiona didn't walk in together. They join our conversation while Aubrey appears, offering wine from a tray. Fiona is cordial, even light in her banter, and that twists my insides, making me increasingly uncomfortable with her presence.

Her light laughter fills the room when Lochlan arrives in his jacket and dress kilt like the other men. He moves toward us with a dark purpose, his attention on me. He nods to the others, mumbling an “excuse us,” while pulling me aside out of earshot with Geordie a few steps behind him. “You weren't in the room; we agreed you'd wait. Where did you go?” he whispers.

Geordie places a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to glance over his shoulder. “She was with me, cousin, sitting in the dark.”

It looks as though Lochlan will brush off his cousin's touch. “I didn't ask you. I asked Kenzie.”

Geordie reads Lochlan's mood and slides his hand off without a challenge. He shrugs. “You should have better manners, man. Never leave a lovely lass unattended.”

Fiona watches us as she drinks deeply from her glass, unable to hear our discussion, while half-listening to Ian. Lochlan's attention hasn't wavered from me since he entered the room.

“What Geordie means,” I say, pulling away from his grip, “is that we went to the home theater downstairs to watch TV. It was a series Geordie has been binge watching. You weren't around, so he thought to invite me to join him.”

“You were away for a long time. I thought Kenzie could use some company, instead of waiting for you to show.”

Lochlan gives him a dark glance. “Aye, well, there were more questions that needed answers. Fiona has all the information she needs. She promised to have her report ready for Granda tomorrow.”

“If your conversation is that interesting,” Ian calls from the corner of the room, “then let's discuss it over dinner. Aubrey has informed me they're ready to serve the meal.”

“It was nothing, Granda,” Lochlan says, staring a warning at Geordie. “A misunderstanding that's been cleared up.”

Ian levels his gaze at both his grandsons, not convinced of the explanation. “Come then, we'll talk about other things. Take your seats. Kenzie, take the chair to my right and you, Fiona, to my left. I want to see loveliness while I eat my meal.”

Lochlan helps to seat me, while Geordie assists Fiona under their grandfather's critical eye. There's no talk of business during the consuming of a lamb chop and three vegetables. The discussion meanders through the latest exploits of mutual friends, local Edinburgh politics, nothing that would flare passions. I'm asked a few questions for politeness' sake that require only a few sentences of reply.

I notice Fiona's intent gaze on Lochlan even when he doesn’t speak. For a civil dinner, it is a tense affair filled with conversation that hides explosive drama just below the surface.

We finish our cranachan dessert without incident. I pray, as the staff removes our bowls, that Ian will be too tired after dinner to continue his visit with his grandsons, but I'm wrong.

We leave the dining room for a cozy living room of dark chairs and couches, the curtains drawn and a fire dancing in the grate. They pass whiskey around. I'm seated in a chair by the fire and Lochlan stands near me, one hand resting on the chair, still trying to show that we are a couple, to the dismay of Fiona.

I'm on edge with Lochlan pretending nothing has changed while Ian and Geordie say nothing. The whiskey, a full stomach, and the heat from the grate have me longing for an end to this visit. Ian resumes some of this storytelling, recalling adventures of the courageous MacTavish women that I could never hope to emulate.

I can't say how long our stay in the living room lasts; the fire is electric and burns at the same intensity since we came to this room. I sip my drink, listening to Lochlan finish a story about a winery mishap. When he's done, Ian speaks.

“Before I leave you all for my bed, I want to say I've enjoyed visiting with my grandsons and meeting the bonnie Miss MacGregor. I'll be leaving for Scotland in the wee hours of tomorrow to start my long journey home. As I've said before, I want to wake up in my bed on Christmas morning. You're all welcome to stay here for the weekend and beyond, if it suits you. I rented the house for a month.”

“We'll miss you, Granda,” Lochlan says.

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