Authors: Elise Alden
Rob’s phone rang and he yanked it out of his pocket. “What?”
“It’s Anjuli. Please don’t hang up on me.”
Deep breaths
,
man
. “Give me a reason.”
“No matter what it looks like in that picture I’m not having an affair with Craig. I heard a noise and I thought he was a thief so I went outside and then he...Well, he said a whole bunch of crap and I hit him.”
“Didn’t look like you were hitting him to me.”
“He held me so I couldn’t do it again and that was when your friend snapped her shot.”
“She’s no’ my friend. No’ anymore.”
Anjuli was silent for a few seconds, then, “She deliberately made it look as if Craig was kissing me.”
“Was he?” he growled.
“Oh, for God’s—Didn’t you hear what I just said? He’s a jerk and a bastard but no, he wasn’t kissing me.”
A part of him relaxed, but jealousy refused to release its hold. “What about Brendan?’
Anjuli’s voice was low, almost too soft to hear. “He did kiss me, but it was a sort of goodbye. I’ll always care about Brendan, but I don’t love him and I never did. We...” She paused and Rob stiffened. “We shared something, someone important. Once.”
Her voice contained a note he’d never heard before, a fragility that threatened to wrap around his heart and squeeze it tighter than it was already. “Why did you meet him?”
A long sigh. “He owes me money but wouldn’t pay, and when he kissed me it was brief. Closure.” Her tone was ironic.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Anjuli made an exasperated noise. “Because you asked and because I hate romance films where they spend the entire time fighting over a stupid misunderstanding they could’ve cleared up if you—if the hero had just answered his bloody phone.”
“So this is a romance?”
Anjuli groaned. “It’s more like a horror film. Gossip is rife and Mac, as you probably know, is out for blood.”
“Did you know about Craig and Ash?” Rob said, dreading the answer.
She cleared her throat. “Yes.”
“And you call yourself Mac’s friend.”
Rob was disgusted, no matter her protestations that she could do nothing. Mac didn’t deserve Anjuli’s betrayal. Hell, she’d forgiven Anjuli for leaving him long before he had and never said a word against her. And this was how that friendship was repaid? Ben’s angry rant against Anjuli’s duplicity rang in his mind and his gut roiled in anger.
“All this time you were helping Ash, keeping Mac busy while Craig went to the pub for a bite to eat away from home.”
“Of course I wasn’t,” Anjuli said sharply. “I felt awful, so guilty I couldn’t even look Mac in the face anymore. I’m her friend, but I could hardly tell her that my own sister was—”
“Screwing around with her husband.”
“It was a one-off. A mistake Ash made when she’d had too much to drink. She was lonely and Craig was there and—I don’t understand it.”
“You don’t? Ash was drunk and horny and wanted sex with any man around. It’s a trait that runs in the family.”
Anjuli gasped.
Shit
. Where in bloody hell had
that
come from? Insecurity, he was honest enough to realise. Twice she’d asked him to make love to her, both times because she was drunk. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”
Her voice was devoid of emotion. “I’m moving back in with Ash when she gets out of hospital, until she’s okay on her own.”
Rob frowned. “I’ll come by the manor after I’ve seen Mac.”
“Don’t. I—uh, I called a halt to work this morning,” she said in a rush. “I can’t deal with the renovation as well as manage the pub and visits to hospital.”
“You don’t need to live on-site. I can update you every few days.”
Did she whisper something? Sounded like “oh God.” “I can’t continue with the house, not right now anyway. Just...trust me on that.”
Considering everything he’d discovered, it was a hard ask. “I’m no’ happy about Craig and Ash either, but Castle Manor has nothing to do with them, or Mac. I’ll manage the rest of the work and—”
“If you must know,” she interrupted. “I’m...bored of the project and need a break from all that banging around. I’ve decided to finish the house next year, maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Running a B&B doesn’t seem as easy as I thought.”
What the hell?
“We had a deal, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“I’m putting the house on hold and...and that’s final.”
Anger and disbelief made his words taste like ashes. “You said you wouldn’t walk away.”
“You’ll get the money I owe you.”
“It’s not about the money. It’s about my time and effort, and your promise to see the restoration through.”
“I’ve made a lot of promises I can’t keep,” she said quietly.
Slowly, determinedly, Rob kept his voice even. “Are you leaving Heaverlock and going back to singing?”
“No.”
“Then why—”
“What I do with my life is my own business,” she interrupted. “I’ve been trying to tell you that for months but you won’t listen. I think it’s best we see each other as little as possible.”
“If that’s the way you want it I’ll post you an invoice for the balance due.”
“Great.”
“That’s settled, then.”
* * *
Nothing was bloody settled.
As soon as he landed in London he phoned Mac. “Craig and Ash had a one-night stand, not a full-blown affair. Anjuli told me.”
“Don’t ever mention her name to me again,” she said savagely. “Stay the hell away from that bitch and her family. You
are
going to take the project in America, aren’t you?”
He couldn’t answer, but at least the long flight had helped to make one decision. He would do as Anjuli asked and keep away. Whatever had existed between them now meant nothing and he wasn’t going to spend his life waiting for a woman who’d always run away.
As for Boston, he was hungry for a new challenge and eager to get to his drawing table, but Mac’s world had collapsed and his nephews were suffering. They didn’t understand why Craig had left and they needed him more than Mac did. Ben was crap with kids. He had no patience and was at the end of his tether dealing with the rambunctious boys. No, he couldn’t leave. Not now. As soon as he got back to Heaverlock he had to dedicate himself to Mac and the boys. They took precedence over everything and everyone else.
“Don’t stay here for
her
,” Mac said.
“I won’t.”
“If you talk to her, sleep with her or even think of getting back together with her you can kiss goodbye to any relationship with me and the kids.”
Rob considered Mac’s threat during his connecting flight to Edinburgh and on the drive home with Ben. He didn’t doubt Mac meant what she’d said. Damn it, he loved those boys of hers. Hell, they were the only kids he’d ever be close to if Ben continued to shun marriage and fatherhood.
What a fuck-up Craig and Ash had created. He banged his hand against the dashboard.
“New car, little bro’.”
“Right.”
Ben came to a stop at the turnoff to Halton Forest. “The word around Heaverlock is that Craig is enjoying the Carvers’ company.”
“Not Anjuli’s,” Rob gritted out through his teeth.
Ben glanced at him sideways. “True. She spends so much time with Damien I’ve changed my bet on the two of you getting back together.”
Rob twisted, glaring at Ben.
“The whole village has flocked to the bookies,” he continued, unperturbed. “Myself included. I thought you’d get together as soon as you returned, but had another flutter.”
“I hope your new bet is ‘never’.”
Just as he never should have trusted Anjuli would change or see the restoration through.
Friends
, she’d said.
Fuck that
. She didn’t care about him even as a friend. The word was wasted on her. All she wanted from him was sex, and only when she was drunk. Well, if she thought he would service her again she was sorely mistaken.
She was right about one thing though. The more Ben told him of Mac’s reaction to Craig’s adultery the more he agreed the situation was like a horror film. Mac was lashing out and oddly, she seemed to want Anjuli’s blood more than she did Ash’s.
Chapter Sixteen
Anjuli stared at the two-week-old baby girl in her arms. The pain of holding her was no longer as acute as when Ash had first brought Saffron Marie Carver home, but it was there, lurking inside her. She smiled sadly at the baby’s soft skin, her delicate eyebrows and tiny rosebud mouth. She was rooting beneath Anjuli’s breast in hunger.
If she shut her eyes, she could imagine Chloe in her arms instead of Saffron, feel her plump body as she burped her after a feed.
Pat
,
pat
,
pat and small
,
gentle circles to soothe.
Ash opened her arms for Saffron. “What are you wearing tonight and who’s your date?”
The annual Common Riding Ball had finally arrived, marking the end of the festival. “Beats me and I don’t have one. Damien’s busy. I’ll be a wall-thistle tonight, so prickly nobody will ask me to dance.”
“Viking will dance with you, although I recommend not getting too close to his feet. He thinks Scottish dancing is like the polka, the big barbarian. He’s rented a kilt and—” Ash hissed, grinding her teeth as Saffron latched on to her breast. “God, that hurts like hell sometimes.”
“Yeah.” It might be easier to watch Ash with Saffron, but sometimes she had to step away, go to the window and look at something else. Anything. Nothing. Mrs. Wilson, at her usual spot behind her net curtains, observing the world while she drank sherry from a teacup. She waved and Anjuli waved back. Would she also one day sit alone, made up to the nines, expecting no one?
She cut her gaze across the green. The Town Hall ledges were dressed in summer flowers. Two large pots, either side of the double doors, provided a riot of burgundy and purple violets, courtesy of Mrs. P. and the Heaverlock in Bloom Club.
Anjuli handed Ash a muslin square to wipe Saffron’s mouth. “Councillor Hamish popped into the pub yesterday and asked me to officially declare the Common Riding Ball open tonight. He’ll lead the first reel with the new Provost.”
At least some people didn’t care about the gossip. Anjuli’s smile faded. Mac, as Chairman of the Common Riding Committee, would be on stage with her.
“Why the woeful face, Babes? At least they didn’t ask you to sing. Someone from Edinburgh’s been hired so you can relax. You can sashay up there, say a few words of welcome, thank the village, blah, blah, and then you can find Rob and talk to him.”
Easier said than done
. “After what I said to him on the phone? He must be wondering why I haven’t paid his invoice but he hasn’t bothered to ask. He hasn’t phoned or come by...”
Ash’s face tightened. “Give it some time.”
Rob was one of the customers who didn’t frequent the pub anymore, as were a lot of people who sympathised with Mac and wanted to show their support. Had it not been for the busy tourist season, custom would have been dangerously low for Ash’s bank balance. Villagers were choosing to travel to Halton to enjoy a night out, but Anjuli hoped that once the days got shorter, they would drift back to the Heaverlock Arms.
She injected a positive note into her voice. “Damien is sure the hype will die down once people have something else to gossip about.”
“There’s a man who seems like he knows what he’s talking about. Why aren’t you going to the Ball with him?”
Anjuli grinned. “I set him up with Murran Harris. She’s nice.”
“And she’ll put out.”
“Well, there’s that too. All she talks about is that very impressive bulge of his. A weapon of female destruction, she calls it, hoping he’ll point it at her.”
The sisters laughed. “It might go off tonight,” Anjuli said. “Damien’s libido is on overdrive, poor man. I think no sex in months has done something to his brain. He’s become broody and quiet.”
“What did he ask for in return for annihilating Murran?”
“I promised to let him come over and cook me a meal some time, but maybe he’ll end his dry run with Murran and cancel on me.”
“Then you could ask Rob over instead.”
Anjuli glared at her. “He doesn’t want to talk, remember?”
“Well, there is that,” Ash said. “And he can’t cook worth shit anyway. Do you remember that lamb shank he made for your high school graduation? I swallowed it down with so much lager I was drunk by dessert. And Ben refused to finish it.”
Anjuli smiled, remembering Rob’s affronted face, and how she’d cheered him up afterward. God, she missed him. But would he even look at her tonight? The ache in her heart was growing—a sharp, lancing pain that refused to dull, different from her grief over losing Chloe.
“Why don’t you phone Rob?” Ash asked brightly. “So what if he’s staying at Mac’s? She has no right to proscribe who he talks to. Why doesn’t she limit her hatred to me? No, she has to be a whining victim and try to bring you down as well, gossiping up a storm and spinning lies like a spider. God, I hate her sometimes.”
“Mac is hurting,” Anjuli said sharply. “She’s lost her husband, her family life and her romantic illusions, and she needs someone to blame. She hates you, but she despises me because
I
was supposed to be her friend. Not telling her about you and Craig seems like another betrayal to her, one that allows her to direct her hatred at someone other than Craig.”
“I thought you hated all that psychobabble crap. The bottom line is she should hate only me, not you.”
“When you’re grieving you don’t think straight and if hating me is part of Mac’s coping mechanism then she can go right ahead. She’ll regret it in the long run and when she does, I’ll be there for her. Besides, she’s not the only reason Rob avoids me. He’s furious I’ve stopped work on the house.”
“Tell him about the loan, that your jerk ex-husband didn’t pay you back and your bastard advisor screwed you out of your fortune.”
“No need—not yet anyway. I’ve applied for another loan, to cover the rest.”
“Bloody idiot.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Obviously.” Saffron gurgled and Ash patted her back, laughing at the large, adult-sized burp that she let out.
Pat
,
pat
,
pat and soothe.
There you go
,
sweetie...
“Rob will probably have a hot date tonight,” Ash said archly. “Like Sarah or that woman I saw in his car the other day. She looked like Jessica Rabbit.”
“Mrs. P. cornered me after church and told me she was a client.”
“Client or not, Miss Rabbit’s probably got him between her thighs as we speak. You know how frisky those bunnies are, and what angry, frustrated man could resist?”
“I couldn’t care less.”
“Is that why you look like you’re going to puke? Denying your feelings won’t change what happened and bring back Chloe, y’know.”
Anjuli clenched her jaw. “I owe it to her not to forget, not to casually continue my life as if she means nothing. Don’t you understand that?”
“Sure, you’re clinging to your self-imposed punishment like a reiver to his loot, but let’s get this straight—it’s fear holding you back, not guilt.”
“I am
not
afraid of Robert Douglas,” Anjuli spluttered. “I feel guilty for what I did and I always will.”
“Guilt won’t keep you warm at night.”
Anjuli narrowed her eyes. “I feel remorse for my mistakes. You should try it sometime, Ash. After all, you slept with a married man, had his baby and, by the way, destroyed my friendship with Mac. Don’t you think you should feel a teensy bit guilty?”
Ash met her glare with one of her own. “Of course I do, but I’m not going to deprive myself of happiness for the rest of my life because of it. I fucked up big time, but that doesn’t mean I should self-flagellate ad infinitum or become a hermit. Martyrdom is for saints and masochists, and I’m neither. Yeah, I had a choice and yeah, I made the wrong one. You think you did too. But the difference is that I could’ve avoided this mess and
nothing
could have prevented what happened to Chloe. The real reason you won’t let Rob back into your life is because you’re afraid he’ll leave you like Chloe did. That’s cowardice, Babes, not guilt.”
Anjuli grabbed her handbag. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Keep on telling yourself that. Keep on wallowing in self-pity until it’s too late. Keep on—”
Anjuli banged the door shut behind her.
* * *
Anjuli stood on the stage with Councillor Hamish and the Common Riding VIPs...including Mac. She had lost more weight, there were tension lines around her mouth and the circles under her eyes were panda bear dark. Her navy blue, scoop-necked dress looked two sizes too big, making her seem ungainly.
Anjuli had tried to speak to her but Mac had cut her dead, and was now standing as far away from her corner as possible. Other than stiffly acknowledging a table of primary school teachers and Florinda Montrose, Mac kept her eyes locked on Ben. He was at a table in the middle of the room, sitting next to an attractive older woman and looking every inch the romantic scoundrel in his kilt. Anjuli pulled up the low bodice of her sage green gown, not wanting to give Florinda the opportunity to tell whoever would listen that “Jules” had flaunted her jewels at the ball. The zipper fastening cinched her waist to within an inch of her life, but that wasn’t why she felt breathless. Rob hadn’t arrived yet, and she didn’t know whether she wanted him to or not. If he came with another woman she would...would...Why didn’t Councillor Hamish get a move on so she could get off this damn stage?
If the evening followed the normal pattern of events, Councillor Hamish would say a few words, then Mac would talk about the festival and there would be either a poem or a song. After that it was her turn to address the village, introduce the band and declare a start to the dancing.
Where the hell was Rob? She needed to see
him
, not the long ball gowns or formal kilts of the Lindsey, Crawford or MacDonald clan. Ash caught her eye and winked. She looked resplendent in scarlet and her arm was linked around Viking’s massive bicep. Her posture was relaxed but she looked tense. Anjuli didn’t think she needed to fear snide whispers or the morality police. Viking’s hair was combed back and he’d shaved and cleaned up, but he looked more dangerous in a formal kilt than in his usual jeans and leather jacket.
Relieved that their spat was over, Anjuli winked back. If it weren’t for the weight on her conscience, she’d be feeling pretty good right now. After all, she was coping with Ash’s motherhood and taking responsibility for her mistakes. Ash was right. Tonight she would tell Rob why she’d suddenly stopped work on Castle Manor. She’d never bought a lot of jewellery for herself, but would he take it in lieu of cash? It was risibly short of what he’d outlaid so far, but hopefully he’d take it and wait for when her new application was approved to get the rest of what she owed him.
Stupid woman
,
of course he won’t take it
. He was Rob, and although he would be furious he wouldn’t strip her of everything she possessed in order to get his money. He’d be shocked, disappointed...and walking through the doorway. Alone.
Rob stopped and scanned the room, and an irrepressible thrill fluttered through her. She’d seen him in his formal kilt many times during their relationship—black Prince Charlie jacket and bowtie, crisp white shirt and Douglas plaid—and it had always filled her with pride, joy that such a man was hers. Now, the sight of his tall, dark form made her feel barren, empty inside, her skin a layer of thin tissue, wrapping a space meant to be filled by him.
See me
, she wanted to say,
look at me and smile
. She willed him to turn his head, notice her, stop greeting people and come straight to the stage. He waved at Mac, looked straight through her and joined Ben at his table.
Councillor Hamish tapped the microphone, a big smile on his face. “Thank you all for coming tonight and for making our Common Riding Festival such a success, and a special thank you to the Chairman of the Committee, Mrs. Mackenzie Scott, for her tireless efforts to produce one of the most memorable festivals ever.”
Mac spoke as if by rote. “It was a pleasure to lead the committee this year and to help in organising the ride-outs and the revelries that followed. I was lucky to have wonderful support from family and friends through such a chaotic time. I would like to thank my two brothers, Benedict and Robert Douglas, for making sure I didn’t fall apart.” Her eyes teared up and she swallowed, then straightened her shoulders. “They’ve agreed to go one step further and begin our evening with their interpretation of Heaverlock’s very own poem,
The Reiver’s Lament
. Please give them a huge round of applause.”
Rob and Ben stood up, and Anjuli, along with every other hot-blooded woman in the room, ran her gaze over the two Douglas brothers, so similar yet so distinctive.
The Reiver’s Lament
was the tale of a wayward, courageous boy who grows up wanting to be a soldier and discovers that killing destroys the soul. Ben took the audience through laughter at the lad’s mischievous antics, hopes that he’d achieve his dream and then horror as he grew up, fought battles and suffered as an English captive.
Ben might be brusque and taciturn, but he’d always been a confident speaker. His eyes flashed with humour or hatred according to the demands of the epic poem. Anjuli was as appreciative of his performance as the rest of Heaverlock, but her eyes were glued not to steel blue but to mesmerising grey. It was Rob’s turn to enchant the audience with the tale of the soldier-cum-reiver’s recovery from his wounds, tended by a Border Lord’s daughter. Of their doomed romance and her violent death at the hands of an English soldier.
Rob’s multi-layered voice made the poem his own, wrapping itself around the ancient lament and infusing each word with melancholy, then sorrow. Like the rest of the ballroom, Anjuli was caught in the magic of his declamation, the eloquence of his gestures. Her heartfelt response grew stronger with the ebb and flow of his delivery and the nuances in his tone.
Piano.
Piano.
Forte.
Piano.
For the first time in more than a year, Anjuli felt the urge to sing. The desire surprised her, and grew stronger as she immersed herself in the texture of Rob’s performance. The rhythm of his baritone. Silence followed his final, shattering line. It seemed to last forever, then Rob and Ben grinned at each other and bowed, and the applause was deafening.