Page 68 of Lochlan

I pull a red envelope from the back pocket of my jeans and drop it onto his lap. “I want what's in this letter.”

He glances at the envelope on his lap. “This is the letter I wrote to you. You wanted something that would persuade Poppy we slept together. What better way to convince her than to write a note confessing my love?”

“This morning, when I went to my bedroom to change, this was lying on my dresser. While the water was running for my shower, I opened it and read it. Then, I read it again.”

He holds up the letter. “I promised nothing in this letter; you need to make your point clearer even for me to understand.”

“Lochlan.” I snatch the letter back, shaking it in his face. “These words are too beautiful, too raw to be a fake. Why didn't you say this to my face? Why didn't you tell me if this is how you felt?”

He eases further back into his seat, confronting me with that brooding bastard stare, not bothering to answer.

His non-response sends pressure pulsing to my temples, threatening to blow up my head like a blooming mushroom cloud of white smoke. I tear the letter from the envelope and read. “Kenzie, Mo ghràdh.” Emotions stop me at the Gaelic phrase, and I regard the paper in my hands. Could I really be his love, his life? The imagined sound of his voice whispering this to me is seductive, and it forces me to take a breath before I can continue. “You.” I stumble, wait a few heartbeats, then begin again. “You are the brown-eyed beauty who captured my heart. An unexpected happiness that I didn't know existed...” I read the account of the first night we made love, filled with all the tender passion of a lover's first discovery of his beloved. He describes a second night we were together, recalling how he watched me sleep beside him in the silver-gray moonlight. I read through the rest of the note filled with intimacies and personal observations until the correspondence ends with Cùm sàbhailte, mo leannan. Bheir mi gaol dhut gu bràth, Lochlan. It sounds so beautiful, but I say the words in English to give them a reality. “Keep safe, my sweetheart. I will love you always. Lochlan.”

There's a silence, interrupted by the continuous hum of the heater warming the room and me perennially captured in a photograph on the screen.

“You have nothing to say to this? All these exquisite details…did you write this to me or Fiona, the ex you left behind?”

He shakes his head, giving a mirthless laugh. “The letter is pure fabrication, but it's about you or what I imagined it would be like if you were mine. It doesn't matter what I feel, I'm not free—”

I don't give him a chance to finish his explanation. “Are you going back to Fiona?”

“There are too many unknowns. It's the only answer I can give.”

“Then you're in love with both of us. If you're not willing to say where you stand, then you're the wishbone and we're pulling a half to see where you'll break.” I think about bolting again and this time I don't think he'll stop my leaving.

He rises slowly from his chair and places his hand on my arm, sliding it down until he captures my hand.

“I wanted to avoid this, but it appears I have no choice.”

He leads me to one of the wide couches to sit. “There was no going back to my cold, deviant life when you flashed those sexy brown eyes at me in the tasting room. Convincing myself what I felt was a passing fancy did no good; you continued to barge into my life until I had no choice but to want you. I was half mad with jealousy when you smiled at Geordie the night you came to my room to help me with the presentation. I had unhealthy thoughts of pummeling my cousin over the smile you gave him. But you're right, I'm a soulless bastard, and you deserve much better than me.”

I touch his face, my fingers grazing the soft stubble along his jaw.

“How could you know soulless bastards are my thing?”

He gives me a crooked grin. “Come here, ya wee devil,” he says, and I go to him, his arms wrapping tightly around me, my cheek on his chest.

“You've seen what pressures I have from my family and the business. You heard my granda; he's going to decide who will manage the winery and Catriona. There are too many people counting on me to keep control. The chief among them is Geordie. I can't let him down, not after he stood by me all these years. You wouldn't have all my attention, anyway.”

“What I want is you,” I say into his shirt.

“There's a good chance I might hurt you, and I don't want to do that.”

“Then make a promise to me now that you won't.”

“It's not that easy. You should stay away until I sort out my affairs.”

“It's too late to stuff that back into the bottle. Did you know your grandfather gave me advice when we were walking on the trail together?”

He lays his cheek on my hair. “I'm afraid to ask. But I'm sure you want me to know.”

“He said if I wanted us to be together, that I'd have to fight for you. I'm a competitor; that's like firing a gun at the start of a race.”

“I'll have to thank that crafty bastard,” he says while his lips graze my hair, giving me a tingle.

“Lochlan,” I sigh, glancing up to see his eyes.

“Aye, what is it?”

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