What Lies Between (33 page)

“Who is this guy?” Her suspicion pierced me with guilt.

“He’s a client of my former company. He’s here to help with the house.”

“Help with the house? Exactly how is he going to do that?” She peered over her glasses, eyes brimming with skepticism. “I understand you’re under a great deal of pressure, but this bloke is dodgy. I have a bad feeling about it.”

“You’re not the only one,” I mumbled.

“What did you say?”

“It will be fine.” I struggled to look up and face her, and show I believed what I said.

She clucked her tongue. “Just the look of him: too good-looking, too big a conceit of himself, and bloody rich, obviously. He flashed his money about like an eejit. Whoever he is, he’s nae good. You’ve practically disappeared, shutting me out. And I don’t like it.”

“I have to think about Glenbroch right now, Maggie. And, yeah, I knew you wouldn’t like my plan and would get in my way.”

“Not talking to me at all? That’s not the way we do this.” She waved her finger back and forth between us. “We’re friends.”

“Just to be clear, I didn’t talk to anybody about it, okay? Let me do what I have to do, Maggie.”

“The look on your face tells me whatever you think you have to do, ye ken it’s nae right. You should have talked to me.”

“Well, I’m fine. Leave it alone.”

Wheeling around, I stalked off to the restroom, determined to steel my nerves. But how exactly was I supposed to prepare to sell my soul?

By the time I returned to the booth, the food had arrived and I could keep my fidgeting hands busy with my fish and chips.

“Tell me, what have you gotten yourself into?” he asked.

Jason wore smugness so effortlessly.

After I related the story, the April deadline, and the cost of the repairs, he let out a low whistle.

“You
are
in trouble . . . but I’m sure we can work it out. Look, you know I need to get my organics division launched next year, and I’ve already looked for others who could do it. I’ve fired the two people Leland foisted on me. We both know you’re the only person who can do the job, Ell.” His jaw twitched the way it did when he thought he was winning. “Give me two years minimum, working for me directly, not through Leland. You can hire someone to manage this setup over here. Fly over every quarter to check on things. I’ll come with you,” he said, with a suggestive smile.

Images of a python swallowing me whole filled my vision. No way would I give him two years.

I steadied my gaze. “Yes, I’m sure we can work it out, but two years is too much. I can get the division set up and running in one year and that’s fair for the money I’m asking to cover the repairs and the value I’ll bring to your operations.”

Jason met my gaze, tried to read me, then leaned against the back of the booth. “You’re valuable, Ell, but that’s a pretty steep price.”

“You didn’t come all the way over here to haggle, Jason. That’s the deal I can make. Yes or no.”

“See, that’s what it is about you. You always hold out on me. The big tease. Now, I’ve got something you want.” He stared at me, and then slapped his hands down on the table. “Deal, but with a second year option.”

“We can work out the details. I’ll report to work in January, after this first season and the next Hogmanay. Glenbroch will be secure by then. I can get some help in for next year, but I’ll need to make trips here more often than once a quarter—at least every six weeks.”

He ran his hand over mine. “That should be no problem. Like I said, I’ll join you over here on some trips.”

“Whatever suits you.”

Just give me the check.

“You know, Ell, if it was anyone else, I wouldn’t do this. You fascinate me, always have, but you know that. This is going to be a perfect partnership.”

He leaned over the table and stroked my hair. My stomach nearly tossed up Peter’s lovely food.

“What’s between you and me covers all the bases. Professional interests, chemistry, common ground. How often does that happen?”

“Jason, this deal works for both of us. You get your organics launch well on its way, and I secure Glenbroch.” I raised my glass of wine. “To success.”

“Success is a given. To us!” Jason’s gaze roved where it shouldn’t.

I closed my eyes to calm my skin, which crawled with a dirty feeling that would never scrub off. When I opened them, Maggie stood within my line of vision, her arms crossed and disapproval etched on her face. I looked away, forced a smile in Jason’s direction, and slugged down half of my glass of wine.

One thing I could count on with Jason Marks: he would find a way to achieve what I wanted so he would get what he wanted. I’d have to manage his expectations about me, which were out of line, but I’d deal with that later.

True to form, contractors showed up for work within two days of our agreement. Calum protested when he received the contract with Jason for review, but advised me nonetheless. I signed with a few changes.

Jason’s payment of the repairs was an advance against professional services. By the time the ink dried on the agreement, Jason’s innuendos about what that meant had already grown old.

Whatever amount of money Jason unloaded to get the contractors working on the Glenbroch job, it made things happen. Crews worked in shifts day and night. The work areas were lit brighter at midnight than at high noon; Jason was nothing if not a taskmaster. The repairs would be complete in six weeks, giving me a tight two weeks to get things in order before the first guests arrived.

I had managed to avoid Ben for days, but he caught me at the cottage, entering without knocking, which he hadn’t done before. “Who is this Jason Marks?” A granite edge roughened Ben’s voice, and anger etched his face into a scowl.

“He’s a client of the company I used to work for.”

“Why would he come over here and spend a fortune to put Glenbroch back together? And why have you been avoiding me, because I know you have been? Have you been staying with this bloke?”

“None of your business where I stay or what I do. Jason came here to help get Glenbroch up and running by the first of April. I have my own resources. And you’re a MacIver. Does the reason I avoided you need explanation?”

He moved fast for someone who’d had a house fall on him and was inches away from me in seconds. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this? I’m part owner.”

“Because you would have fought me on it. And I needed to get the estate back together to keep Glenbroch. What’s between us first is business. And don’t forget—because you and your father certainly don’t let me forget—we are at war.”

“No, we’re not. You might be. My father might be. But I’m not. Not with you, Ellie. I would have helped you. We could have found a way around this, worked it out.”

“Your mind lives in some other world than the real one. I’m hanging on by a thread thanks to you and your father.”

Ben ran his hands through his hair, winced at the deep cut still healing on his scalp, and sat down on the sofa.

I continued, “Sometimes, for moments here and there, I want to forget. But I can’t. You pitted yourself against me. I didn’t ask for this fight. Your family brought it to me. I’ll keep Glenbroch, whatever it takes. I mean that.”

He let out a long exhale. “What did it take? This couldn’t have come cheap.” His eyes looked exhausted, heavy with pain. And not from his physical injuries alone.

Closing my eyes, I pulled my hair back, let it down, my body uncomfortable with the question, with the answer. “No, it didn’t come cheap.”

“What did it cost you?” Ben demanded.

“None of your business!” I folded my arms, my attention falling on the photos scattered around the room of Ben and his family.

“Ellie, you’re scaring me. What did it cost?”

“Scaring you?” I turned my eyes on his, incredulous. “Leave it alone.”

He stared at me. Neither of us blinked. 

Turning my eyes to the window, I said, “I realize this is your home, and I can’t exactly order you out of it. I’m leaving.”

“I’ll go.”

“No, I’m out.” I grabbed my handbag and keys, shoved my feet into my wellies, threw on my mac, and slammed the cottage’s door behind me.

After parking the Beast at Glenbroch, I took off to the top of the hill, lay down on the wooden bench, and tried to remember my first innocent day. I hadn’t seen Brodie in a while. He hadn’t challenged me again, but when we came near each other on my hikes, he always had loud words for me. I missed the cranky tup right now.

My mind drifted to the first encounter with Ben, the sound of his voice, his shadow over me as I lay on the soggy ground at the bottom of the hill. Back when Glenbroch was my own real-life fairytale. Life was good and the future golden. A moment far too short.

Jason insisted on going fishing before he returned to the States—which couldn’t be fast enough for me—and planned a day on the river. I skimmed the fishing guide Jim lent me as I rode in the passenger seat of Jason’s Land Rover. Jim led the way in the Beast with Ben and Henry on board.

Henry had been teaching me the basics of casting when we made livestock rounds so of course I had invited him along. Even though I could do the rounds on my own, they went faster with Henry along and I still had much to learn. As Henry and I made our way through the fields, I practiced casting in the air but my mind couldn’t grasp the motions. I hoped it would come easier once I was thigh-high in the river with a fly rod in my hand.

Ben had invited himself. Having him along was not a choice I would have made.

Tossing the guide on the backseat, I turned my face toward the window, grateful that Jason wasn’t in a talkative mood. The February sky hovered somber and still, unmoving as the stone wall lining the road. If any part of nature was alive, the signs were imperceptible. My attitude should be lighthearted—it was a day of fishing—but my heart sagged with dread. The other shoe would fall, and soon.

The moment Jason pulled his vehicle to a stop I jumped out and made my way toward Jim, grateful for his calm presence. He handed me my new chest waders and the rod and flies he’d selected for the early season fishing.

A small salmon run was in progress, Jim said. It would be the first salmon I’d caught, if I caught anything. My lips and ears were growing numb underneath my neck muffler and wool hat. My goose bumps had bumps, in spite of my long johns, fleece, windproof, waders, and waterproof jacket. I had MacKinnon blood, but my skin was definitely not native. How would I last in the river for the entire day?

Jason looked at home in the cold swirl of water, and it made sense. Having grown up in Montana, fishing and hunting were practically in his DNA. All of his attention was on the river and the fish it held.

I wasn’t the only one watching Jason cast. Ben, Henry, and Jim all had their eyes on the brash stranger. Jason didn’t notice us as he adjusted the slack in his line and cast again. He was transfixed by the river and what swam underneath its surface. I’d seen this trait in him before, the ability to block everything out and focus. It was part of his secret to success, he told the press at every opportunity. Whatever he decided to acquire or achieve, he succeeded. I couldn’t remember a time when he’d failed to get what he was after, at least since he’d become a public figure. Jason was an impressive man.

And he already had a salmon on the line.

“Remarkable for this early in the season,” Jim mumbled, then spoke louder with an admiring tone as he readied the net. “Well done, you. You’re playing that fish as good as I’ve seen.”

“Don’t need the net,” Jason said. “I’ve got this one on my own.”

I sat back on my heels and watched the battle between man and fish, having no doubt Jason would win.

“Bloody good talent there,” Ben said, squatting beside me.

“The fish doesn’t stand a chance,” I said, feeling Ben’s gaze bore into me, but refusing to look up and reveal the thoughts my eyes would expose.

“He’ll let it go. It’s probably all sport with him, anyway.”

“Not the way he operates.” I cupped my gloved hands to my face, breathed into them to warm my frozen nose. “He’ll build a fire right here and grill it for his lunch.”

“Ell, grab my camera from my pack, would you, and take a photo,” Jason said, bounding from the river with the salmon hanging from his fingers.

“Sure. That’s a nice catch, Jason,” I said.

He beamed. “Gorgeous fish. Wait until you taste it grilled by moi. Magnifique!” He kissed his fingers and threw them in the air with a sweep of melodrama.

I glanced back at Ben as I stood up to get Jason’s camera, arching my eyebrows in a silent
told you
.

After I snapped the photos, I decided it was time to face the river and the rod. I had set my goals low; I only wanted to cast without tangling my line in the tree on the bank, the rocks, or in someone else’s body or line. Catching a salmon would be a bonus. I chose one of two spots Jim pointed to, having taken on board his suggestions to keep it simple.

Empty-handed, Ben followed me into the river.

“Where’s your rod?” I asked.

“Jim said you were worried about casting, suggested I see if you needed any help.”

“I’ve got it.”

He stood there, watching as I struggled. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” I cast again, messing up my line. No salmon were in danger from me.

“Ellie, would you let me help you?” Ben asked, his voice gentle.

I sighed. “Fine.”

He curved his body around me and put his hand over mine. “Let your arm move with mine.”

Fighting the urge to sink back against his chest, I steadied my muscles and ordered them to hold my body in place.

“That’s grand. Relax and feel the movement.”

My hand and elbow rested against his, and I began to feel the rhythm of the forward and backward motion, the stop, and then the line arching out over the water.

“That’s it. Think about throwing a glass of water in someone’s face—”

Looking back over my shoulder, I laughed. “Like yours.”

“Aye, like mine.” He grinned. “Your arm stops the glass quickly and the water flies. Stop the rod and the line will fly forward. Try it on your own.” He stepped back.