There With You: An Adair Family Novel Page 2

  Pressed against the gate, I watched as he stalked to his SUV, leaned in, and spoke in an inaudible murmur, to whom I didn’t know. But seconds later, he returned. “I’ll need you and the driver to hand over any recording devices—mobile phone, cameras, etc.”

  “Are you serious?”

  His answer was a stony nothing.

  He was serious.

  With a sigh, I handed over my cell and then went to tell the cabbie the news. My driver seemed completely unperturbed about handing over his phone.

  “You’re not annoyed?” I asked quietly through his window.

  “Och, no. They could have just had ye switch vehicles. This means I’m driving ye in. Not many folks get ta drive onta Ardnoch Estate. Wait till ma wife hears aboot this.”

  “Okay, great!”

  Glad he was chipper about the whole thing, I took his phone to Security Guy, who confiscated it and instructed, “Tell your driver the gates will open momentarily. He will follow my vehicle and not deviate. We’ll escort him back to the gate once we’ve delivered you to your sister and he’ll get his phone back then.”

  His militant attitude amused me so much it almost distracted me from Robyn. “Okay, Sarge.” I returned to the cab. After I got in, I relayed the info and we waited. First the Range Rover did a tight U-turn, and then the gates opened.

  Those anxious butterflies came back with a vengeance while my cabbie hooted, “My Carolann will no’ believe this. Pity they took ma phone. Wid have loved some pictures.”

  I couldn’t answer.

  I pressed my forehead to the window as the cab drove slowly up a gravel drive through thick woodlands. Sunbeams cut through the trees, casting rays across the vehicles’ path. And it seemed awhile before we were driving out of them into bright sunshine that illuminated manicured lawns. Miles of them. Flat near the building in the distance, but increasingly rolling farther away. Little flags on the distant lawns suggested it was a golf course.

  The gravel drive led toward the immense building up ahead.

  Not just any building.

  A castle.

  My sister’s boyfriend owned a freaking castle.

  With turrets and everything.

  “Holy shit,” I whispered as we drew nearer. The castle was six stories tall and who knew how old. It was like Downton Abbey, but bigger. The thought of Downton Abbey reminded me of bingeing the show with Robyn. An ache flared in my chest, along with another flurry of nerves in my belly. Eyeing the parapets and the St. Andrew’s Cross flag that fluttered in the breeze, I took in a deep breath.

  It was then I spotted the people standing outside the majestic building awaiting our arrival.

  Waiting for me.

  The cab pulled up, and I focused on no one but my sister.

  Robyn.

  She stood huddled into a man’s side, her eyes on my cab. Dressed in workout gear, little makeup, and hair scraped back into a ponytail.

  And she’d never looked more beautiful.

  Memories flooded me and I wanted to launch myself out of the vehicle and into her arms and have her take care of everything.

  Yet I knew it couldn’t be that way anymore.

  Instead, I forced a smile, threw open the passenger door, and stepped out. Hand to my hip, I cocked it, pushing my grin so my dimples appeared. “Hey, sis.” I winked at her. “Did you miss me?”

  2

  Regan

  The way Robyn stared blankly at me, I realized I’d made a fundamental error in my greeting.

  I knew my sister better than I knew anyone.

  Hurt hid behind her obvious anger.

  Ignoring the two men at her side, my smile faltered, and I stepped toward her.

  “I missed you,” I confessed.

  Robyn pulled out of the very recognizable Lachlan Adair’s embrace and crossed her arms defensively as she neared me. “Funny, it hasn’t seemed that way for the past eighteen months. Not after I got shot, not after Dad got stabbed, or after Lucy Wainwright tried to murder Lachlan and me.”

  Holding back a flinch, I swallowed hard. My sister was a cop who got shot in the line of duty. That moment was the beginning of my life spiraling out of control. Robyn quit, opened a photography business, and around a year after she was shot, she traveled to Scotland to find some closure with her father, Mac Galbraith. Mom and Dad said her relationship with Mac was in a good place, despite Robyn falling in love with his boss and best friend Lachlan Adair.

  As for Lucy Wainwright, she was an Oscar-winning actor who had been a member of the club and a good friend of Lachlan’s. However, according to my mom’s retelling, she wanted more than friendship from him and when she couldn’t have it, she started leaving threatening messages around the estate. Things escalated when the estate mechanic joined her in the misdeeds. The mechanic stabbed Mac, attacked Robyn, ran her off the road, and then helped Lucy kidnap Lachlan. Robyn was the one who found Lachlan, and with help from a local farmer, they both escaped unscathed. The mechanic didn’t. Lucy killed him right before she tried to kill my sister. Now the actor was facing trial, which meant my sister was also facing said trial as a witness.

  There was no excuse for my absence from Robyn’s life through all that.

  Not a good one, anyway.

  Robyn was the brave one. I was the coward.

  “I’m here now.” I put my arms around her and squeezed.

  Closing my eyes against the burn of tears, I realized my sister had changed her perfume. For years, she’d worn the same scent. I’d even bought her a bottle at the airport. But she smelled different.

  And she felt different.

  She was hard and unyielding in my arms.

  Once upon a time, there was nothing better than a Robyn hug.

  Realizing she wasn’t going to return my embrace, my heart crumpled and I pulled away. But then she made an aggravated sound in the back of her throat seconds before her arms closed around me.

  Tears stung my nose as I pressed my cheek to her shoulder and clung to her. She held me so tight I could barely breathe, but I didn’t care.

  “I could kill you,” she whispered hoarsely.

  Hearing the pain in her voice, my eyes flew open and caught in Lachlan’s cool, azure gaze. His eyes narrowed, his expression softening from hard to thoughtful at whatever he saw on my face. Disconcerted, I pulled out of Robyn’s embrace and slapped her arm playfully. “But what a dull place the world would be if you did.”

  My sister studied me with those penetrating, ever-changing eyes of hers. I’d always been jealous of the eyes she’d inherited from Mac. While we shared the same large, oval shape, Robyn’s were technically hazel, but they changed color depending on her mood or the surrounding colors. Mine were an ordinary chestnut brown.

  “Eh, hate ta interrupt, but the meter is still tickin’, ya ken,” the cab driver called behind me.

  “Pardon?” I wrinkled my nose in confusion.

  “The. Meter. Is. Tickin’. Ya. Ken,” he repeated like I was deaf.

  To be fair, saying it slower and louder meant I picked up the word meter and deduced what he was saying from that. “Damn. Okay.” I flicked Robyn a look. “Let me just pay this guy.” I lowered my voice. “He’s been talking about some random guy called Ken the entire ride up here like I’m supposed to know who that is.”

  Mirth suddenly brightened Robyn’s eyes, and she made a choking sound.

  “What?”

  She swallowed another snort of laughter and replied, her voice trembling with amusement. “He’s saying ‘you know.’ ‘Ken’ means ‘know’ in Scots.”

  I laughed loudly at my mistake, and we shared a grin.

  Then something like mistrust entered my sister’s expression, and the light moment dissipated as quickly as it happened.

  “Jock will take care of your fare.” Lachlan approached and nodded beyond me. I turned to see Sarge (a.k.a. Jock) leaning in to pay the driver; a guy dressed in a modern version of livery retrieved my suitcase from the trunk. This place really
was like Downton Abbey, or at least one of the estates described in my beloved racy historical romances.

  “My purse is on the back seat,” I said, but the guy was already pulling it out of the cab for me. “Thank you!” I waved at the driver, who gave me a big smile.

  “So,” Robyn said, “you could have just returned my phone calls. You didn’t need to come all the way to Scotland.”

  “Of course, I did. I wanted to make sure you were okay. And to see what the allure was.” I covered my hurt at her defection from Boston. Did she even think about me when she decided to move to an entirely different continent?

  I winced at my selfishness. Robyn didn’t owe me anything.

  Lachlan, whose face I’d seen a million times in film, was obviously a pivotal part of the appeal. A good few inches over six feet tall, broad shouldered, clothes that showcased the body of an action star, sandy-blond hair, unshaven cheeks, and rugged features. The man was a blaze.

  Then my eyes met Uncle Mac’s.

  I tensed.

  He was … not at all what I’d expected. Younger looking than I’d anticipated. But then, he was only in his mid-forties. Even then, he didn’t look his age. The same height as Lachlan, Mac was just as broad shouldered, possibly even more muscular in his tight black T-shirt that showed off all that power. His dark hair was speckled with salt and pepper, and he wore it longish so it curled around his nape. Also like Lachlan, he had that designer stubble thing going on.

  He was a dead ringer for that guy out of True Blood and Magic Mike, and he didn’t look any older than Lachlan.

  I couldn’t call him Uncle Mac anymore. It was too weird. “Jesus, Mac, it’s been an age and yet you’ve stopped aging, apparently.” I eyed him thoughtfully. “I suppose if Robyn forgives you, I guess I should, huh?”

  Mac studied me. “It’s been a long time, Regan. We’ve been worried about you.”

  My smile strained. “Worried about moi? Why ever for? I’m fabulous.” I spun on my heels and gestured up to the castle. “And clearly so is Robyn.” I glanced over my shoulder at my sister. “A boyfriend with a castle. Nice.”

  “Fiancé,” Robyn corrected, lifting her left hand.

  A diamond winked blindingly in the sunlight.

  It knocked the breath right out of me.

  Robyn was engaged.

  She was marrying Lachlan Adair.

  My sister was engaged and I hadn’t known about it?

  She was never coming back to Boston.

  I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to tell Lachlan to go screw himself. Why couldn’t he have married one of the millions of other women who must have thrown themselves at him over the years?

  But I knew why.

  There was no one like Robyn.

  She was special.

  And the bastard had snapped her up and stolen her away.

  Lachlan’s gaze was sharp, probing. Quickly banking my ire toward him, I shrugged and threw my hands in the air, my voice a little too high-pitched as I cried, “Well, this calls for champagne!”

  * * *

  My sister had been wrong when she talked me out of running away to New York to become a thespian. I’d have made a damn good actor.

  Instead of champagne, Robyn and Lachlan bundled me into another Range Rover with my luggage and informed me I’d be staying with them at Lachlan’s home. This unwelcome news had concerned me, but I’d covered it, pretending not to be perturbed. I’d stupidly assumed that Lachlan’s home was on Ardnoch Estate.

  Under heavy security.

  It wasn’t.

  They didn’t even provide me with a tour of the place before they escorted me off the damn grounds.

  Standing at the edge of Lachlan Adair’s backyard—a grassy cliff that jutted over the sea—I experienced an emotion that shamed me.

  Jealousy.

  A bracing, cool evening wind pushed at my body, whipping dangerously at the short hemline of my dress. I didn’t care. Who was here to see me flash them? My sister’s fiancé’s home felt like it was on the edge of nowhere. If it weren’t for the identical house next door, it would feel like I was on some alien, lonesome part of the planet.

  My sister’s fiancé.

  That painful lump in my throat returned.

  Fighting back tears that made me feel small and childish, I couldn’t rid myself of the image of Robyn cuddling Lachlan as I sat in the back of the SUV waiting. He’d bent his forehead to hers, murmuring something. It was clear he was asking if she was okay.

  I didn’t know what she’d replied, but I could guess it wasn’t good. They’d shared a lingering kiss filled with so much emotion I had to look away. It seemed intrusive to watch.

  Never mind the surreal surroundings I found myself in; what was discombobulating was seeing Robyn with Lachlan. I’d never seen her so into a guy before. Like … staring at him as if he were her universe, and vice versa.

  I pushed down my envy.

  Not because she’d found that—I wanted that for Robyn. I wanted her to have the most fulfilled, amazing life anyone could ever wish for. Yet in finding it, I was losing her even more than I already had.

  Fiancé.

  “So when did you get engaged?” I asked when they got into the vehicle.

  “I just proposed,” Lachlan replied.

  That made me feel somewhat better. I’d thought maybe she’d told Mom and Dad that she didn’t want me to know just yet. And the thought of her keeping something so huge from me hurt.

  Which was completely hypocritical since I’d been keeping stuff from her for over a year.

  Still. Robyn was getting married.

  And to Lachlan Adair, of all people.

  Knowing how much Robyn used to resent Lachlan—considering she’d thought he was complicit in Mac’s abandonment of her—it was a shock when our parents told me she was in a relationship with him and staying in Scotland.

  She and I were the estranged ones now.

  How life had flipped, huh?

  “Who are you?”

  I startled.

  Following the young, high-toned voice, I turned to my right.

  Lachlan’s yard and his neighbor’s weren’t separated by a fence. I’d thought it odd. His beautiful, contemporary, clearly architect-designed house was perched over the water in a little place Lachlan called Caelmore, just outside the village of Ardnoch.

  Needing a breather, not wanting my sister to see past my devil-may-care attitude, I’d abandoned my luggage in the luxurious guest room Lachlan had shown me to, kicked off my shoes, and strode out via the wall-to-wall bifold doors at the back of the open-plan living space. They led onto a deck with steps that took me to grass that stretched onward to the cliff’s edge.

  A security fence sat along the cliff’s edge. Staring at the two small children who gawked at me in curiosity, I guessed the fence was for their safety. They both had dark hair and wore the same light blue sweaters with an embroidered logo on the chest. The girl wore a blue-and-black-plaid skirt, while the boy wore black pants. School uniforms.

  “Hey.” I grinned as I walked toward them. “I’m Regan.”

  The little boy stood straighter, puffing out his chest as he grabbed onto the smaller girl’s hand. “We’re not supposed to talk to strangers.” He spoke in a lovely, anglicized accent, his Scottish brogue pushing through here and there, particularly prominent in his hard t’s.

  I nodded, trying not to laugh. “That’s a good rule. But you asked me a question first.”

  The boy looked down at the girl in irritation. “That was Eilidh’s fault.” He pronounced her name Ay-Lay. “You know better, Eilidh.”

  Eilidh wasn’t paying attention. She was staring at my feet. “Where are your shoes?”

  I curled my toes into the cool grass and gestured to the house. “I left them inside.”

  The boy frowned. “You know Uncle Lachlan and Aunt Robyn?”

  It was a gut punch.

  “Aunt Robyn?” I whispered.

  The boy nodded. “She
’s going to be Uncle Lachlan’s wife, so we’re allowed to call her Aunt Robyn now.”

  Tightness crawled across my chest. “You live next door?”

  His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I’m not sure I should answer that. You’re still a stranger.”

  If I wasn’t currently suffering from debilitating jealousy and hurt that my sister had gone and created a whole new life that didn’t involve me, I might have laughed.

  “Eilidh, Lewis,” a deep, masculine voice called, drawing our attention. A tall man with broad shoulders and an unkempt appearance strode toward us. His eyes were on me as he stopped behind the children, his hands protectively on their shoulders. “Who do we have here?”

  I strode forward and his gaze lowered down my legs to my bare feet. I could have sworn his lips twitched, but it was hard to tell because a thick brown beard surrounded his mouth.

  “Hey.” I held out my hand to him. “I’m Regan Penhaligon.”

  His blue-gray eyes narrowed slightly, and then his hand was in mine. He gave me a strong, firm shake, and I felt the rasp of the calluses on his palm as he released me. “You’re Robyn’s sister.”

  “Yeah.” And you are?

  “I’m Lachlan’s brother, Thane. These are my children, Eilidh and Lewis. We live next door. Robyn didn’t say you were coming.”

  I smiled, shrugging my shoulders and replying breezily, “I surprised her.”

  His eyes turned a cool blue. “I see.”

  And I got the impression he did see.

  Shame made my skin hot.

  I wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t just Robyn who was acting weird and cold with me. Mac and Lachlan had been equally cool. I knew I deserved it, but it was still horrible. Obviously, Robyn had told Lachlan and Mac I’d flaked on her, and it seemed Lachlan had spread the word to his family members.

  “Yeah. Isn’t it great?” I grinned falsely. “I’ve never been to Scotland before. Fantastic houses, by the way.”

  “Dad designed them,” Lewis piped up. “He’s an archi … architect, and I’m going to be one too.”

  Wow.

  I stared at Thane, seeing him in a new light. Honestly, he gave off a kind of lumberjack vibe. Thick, sandy-blond hair, a beard that was more brown than blond and in desperate need of a trim, and not exactly country-chic attire. His cable-knit sweater had seen better days, his jeans were so faded it was a wonder they weren’t falling apart, and he wore a pair of muddy hiking boots.