Chapter Thirty-Three
I climbed out of the rental car, keeping the door in front of me because the wussy side of me had reared her head higher the closer I got to my destination. My first stop after a two-hour drive from Inverness had been Aidan's house, a quaint old cottage in the village of Ballachulish. He hadn't been home. Luckily, his next-door neighbor took pity on me after spotting me on his doorstep, my shoulders slumped and my head hanging. The elderly woman gave me directions to the house on the outskirts of town where Aidan's parents lived. They'd been kind, and though I got the impression they knew I'd hurt their son, they told me I'd find him at Lachlan and Erica's place.
And so, here I stood. On their property. Staring at their house. Hiding behind a car door with fingers clamped over its top edge hard enough to cause a twinge of pain. Coward.
Tilting my head back, I studied the puffy white clouds that scudded across the blue sky. The color of the sky paled next to the lustrous sapphire of Aidan's eyes. His face flashed in my mind and my chest ached. I'd crossed an ocean to get here. I would not chicken out now.
I shut the car door and marched to the front door of the quaint farmhouse. Niall and Greer MacTaggart, the lord and lady of their little clan, had told me Erica and Lachlan owned a farm. I'd thought they meant in the general sense of living in the country on acreage. Nope. I glanced around as I approached the house, taking in the barn and the chicken coop, inside which I could hear the critters clucking away. A green tractor sat parked alongside the barn, its newness evidenced by the gleam of its paint job.
At the door, I hesitated with my hand raised to knock. What if Lachlan hated me for wounding his brother? Aidan said his eldest brother was super protective. He might toss me out on my ass. And I would deserve it.
Ugh. I had to get a grip right this instant. No more self-flagellation. I came here to get my man, and dammit, I was going to do it. Or try to do it. Double ugh.
I rapped three times.
A dog barked from inside the house, and a deep male voice shouted something, probably an admonition for the dog to be quiet. Aidan had been so sweet with my furry girls. My eyes burned for millionth time since Aidan's departure and I hauled in a long breath, determined not to cry before I'd even seen him.
The door swung inward, revealing a mountain of a man. Holy mackerel. He was taller than Aidan, with darker hair and paler eyes, but the resemblance was unmistakable. I gulped against the tightness in my throat as I gazed up at Lachlan MacTaggart. One side of his impossibly broad shoulders bunched when he leaned against the door, his hand perched on its top corner. A black T-shirt stretched taut over his torso, jeans hung low on his hips. He was barefoot, his hair unkempt — kind of spiky, the way Aidan's hair looked after I raked my fingers through it while in the throes of passion.
I straightened, rolled my shoulders back, and said, "Is Aidan here?"
Lachlan squinted at me, canting his head. "Who's asking?"
"Me." I squelched my groan of disgust at the stupid response.
"Thanks for the clarification." His lips curved up the slightest bit and he arched his brows. "Who are you, lass?"
"Oh. Right." I started to offer my hand, but the trembling in my fingers made me shove both hands in my jeans pockets. "Um, I, well...I'm Calli Douglas."
"Ah." He eyed me up and down like a man sizing up his enemy before a battle. His eyes had narrowed again and his mouth had compressed into a line. When his focus shifted to my face, his gaze bored into me and made me squirm. "What do you want with my brother?"
My skin went cold. He was going to kick my ass.
A woman appeared behind Lachlan, her chestnut hair as mussed as his. Her hazel eyes drifted to me and in one quick scan she seemed to learn everything she needed to know. Smiling, she held out her hand to me. "Erica MacTaggart."
I settled my hand in hers, surprised by the firmness of her grip. "Uh, Calli — "
"Yeah, I heard your little tete-a-tete with Lachlan." She aimed a reproving look at her husband. "Be nice, honey. Remember how you felt after you ripped my heart out and threw it in Lake Michigan?"
She smiled brightly at him.
Lachlan slouched a little, gazing at his wife as if the entire universe existed in her eyes. My gut twisted. Aidan had looked at me that way once upon a time. Before I ripped his heart out.
Erica kissed Lachlan's cheek. "Why don't you let us American girls have a chat?"
"All right." He threw me a tight smile. "Nice to meet you, Calli."
His wife smacked the back of her hand across his chest. "Be nice."
Jaw slack, he spread his hands wide and shook his head. "I said it was nice to meet her."
"Uh-huh." Erica shooed him away from the door. A baby cried from somewhere deeper inside the house and she pointed in the direction of the sound. "You take care of Nicholas and I'll take care of our guest."
Lachlan dashed off and Erica gestured for me to go inside, then shut the door behind us. Locked in with people who must hate me. Ich. Part of me itched to run far, far away from all this. My less-wussy side won, urging me to see this through no matter what humiliations I must endure.
Erica led me into a living room where two matching armchairs stood in front of fireplace, with a sofa behind them. My hostess took a seat in one chair and I took the other, perching on the chair's edge with my hands clasped on my lap. I wrung my hands, chewing the inside of my cheek.
I said the only thing I could think of. "Your son's name is Nicholas?"
"Lachlan wanted to call him Uilleam, a Gaelic name I can barely even pronounce. I nixed that idea."
Nodding, I watched the empty fireplace. Yeah, I was avoiding eye contact. Wussdom was a tough place to escape from. I scratched my arm, fidgeting in the chair.
"Relax," Erica said, leaning back in her chair. "Nobody's going to jump on you. Lachlan's worried about Aidan, that's all. He's very protective."
"Aidan mentioned that." I dared to meet Erica's gaze. "You must think I'm a horrible person."
Her smile was gentle and...motherly. "Not at all. I'm sure Aidan told you how Lachlan dumped me. I made him wait two months before I forgave him."
Christ, if Aidan put me off for two months I didn't think I could handle it. I realized with a start my fingers had moved up to my throat, one finger tapping a manic beat.
Erica leaned forward and stretched out a hand to touch my knee. "Aidan's nowhere near as stubborn as me. Though, to be fair, I had been framed for embezzlement by my ex. Kinda hard to trust after that."
How exactly did one respond to such a confession? Gee, sorry your ex was such a douche. It hardly seemed adequate.
Sitting back, Erica rested her arms on the chair's arms and crossed her ankles. "I think you and I will be good friends."
"Your husband might not approve."
"He will once you and Aidan work things out." A playful gleam glinted in her eyes to match her mischievous smile. "Besides, I have a certain...influence over Lachlan."
I could guess what she meant by that. Aidan had influenced me, for sure. I'd ditched all my rules, one by one, helpless to resist my hot Scot.
"You're brave to come all this way," Erica said. "I admire your conviction."
"But?" I heard the word in her tone, even though she didn't speak it.
"You have to understand, Aidan's never had his heart broken before. I don't think he's ever been in love either." She leveled a somber expression on me. "He's a sweetie-pie, but he's been through a lot this year."
The accident and the stuff with Seona. I couldn't blame his family for being protective, but the revelation he'd never been in love before had left me reeling. Somehow, I had to stick it out through this conversation.
"I would never want to make him feel worse," I said. My throat ached, my stomach roiled, and the sting in my eyes told me I'd cry if I didn't rein in my anxiety. What if he'd changed his mind about me?
As if she'd read my mind, Erica said, "Aidan loves you, and when a MacTaggart man loves, he never gives up on it."
"But I — broke his heart."
"Broken things can be mended."
Footsteps clumped nearer from somewhere deeper in the house. A little smile curled Erica's lips and she hopped up from her chair. She shooed me out of my chair and toward the living room doorway. As we crossed the threshold, she stopped me with a hand on my arm. "I'm going to tell you something you can never let anyone, especially Lachlan, know I told you."
"Okay," I said carefully, not at all sure I wanted to be the keeper of a secret like that.
She glanced around as if looking for her husband, who wasn't in sight. Then she whispered, "Lachlan's a manly man too, but he fell to his knees and cried when he begged me to forgive him. And I mean really begged. Don't assume Aidan's too proud to take you back."
"I hope you're right." The memory of his letter flashed through my mind. He'd poured his heart and soul into the words he scrawled on those two pages. Maybe that had been his version of falling to his knees for me.
He didn't have to beg. I was the one in need of forgiveness.
Lachlan emerged from a room down the hall carrying a steaming mug. He hesitated when he noticed us huddled in the doorway. One of his dark brows lifted. "You two look secretive. Must be talking about Aidan."
"No." Erica grinned. "We were gossiping about you."
His mouth opened, then closed. "I don't want to know, do I?"
She shook her head. "But you should wish Calli luck. She's heading out to get her man."
Lachlan, expression thoughtful and eyes on me, took a sip of his hot drink. "She doesn't need luck."
I glanced at Erica, who nodded.
"He's right," she said. "Now go."
She hustled me to the door, swung it open, and gave me a gentle shove. Her smile broadened when I turned around to blink at her. "Try the barn first, then the garden. You can't miss the former and the latter is behind the barn."
Lachlan came up behind his wife, linking his arms around her waist. "Go left, take a right at the end of the house."
I stared into space for a moment, imagining all sorts of horrible ways this could go, then gave myself a mental smack and headed out. Erica and Lachlan watched in silence, their smiles encouraging, and I prayed they really knew more about how Aidan might react than I did. I had the whole scared-witless, angst-ridden thing going on, making me think nothing could possibly work out. As I reached the end of the house and angled right, I glanced back at my hosts.
Erica waved.
I waved back and marched toward the blue barn, a squat building with windows and Dutch doors, which had their top halves swung open. I leaned over the closed half, peering into the gloom. Sunlight coming in through the windows cast a gentle glow on the interior, where two cows munched on hay. I could see a wide-open back door, larger than the one before me, that opened onto a pasture full of pink heather blossoms.
No Aidan.
For a moment, I must stood there staring at the cows. Such a coward. I cleared my throat and called into the barn, "Aidan?"
No answer. I hollered again, but still got no response. He either wasn't in the barn or he was ignoring me. I decided to think positive and assume he wasn't in here. To the garden, then.
As I walked around the barn, acid churned in my stomach and swelled into my throat. I realized I was wringing my hands and stuffed them in my jeans pockets. In a few more steps, I cleared the barn and caught sight of the garden, a large plot the size of the house and barn combined, with a wooden fence around it and a gate that hung ajar. Between the slats of the fence, I glimpsed a figure crouching amid the rows of neatly sewn seedlings.
A mixture of excitement and terror tingled over my skin, raising every hair. It was him.
He faced away from me, but I recognized Aidan's golden-tinged, wavy brown hair. An ache started in my chest, a pang so intense I lifted a hand to my breast. My feet refused to budge. I crossed my arms over my stomach, swallowed against a lump in my throat, and studied his backside for so long my eyes started to water from the sun burning into them.
Now or never, Miss Chicken.
I would not be a coward any longer. I came here to take a chance and stop fearing the future, fearing what might happen, and to embrace the possibilities for good things.
And the best thing that ever happened to me was him.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I straightened, lowered my hands to my sides, and strode across the distance to the garden.