Lachlan wasn’t sure about anything when it came to Lucy.
But the journalists and paps had descended on Ardnoch like vultures, trying to get the scoop on any bit of information about the case the world didn’t know yet. They’d been hassling Brodan who was in a furor because he was contractually obligated to finish shooting his current film when all he wanted to do was come home to Ardnoch to make sure his family was okay.
The paps followed Arrochar and Thane again. Lachlan hated the bastards. Always had. They were one of the reasons leaving Hollywood behind had been such an easy goddamn decision.
“It’ll die down,” Mac said, reading his expression. “Something else will take their interest in a few days.”
He nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.”
His friend narrowed his eyes at his flat tone. “You can’t bury all this shit, Lachlan. You have to talk to someone about how you’re feeling. Pushing people away will only make things worse.”
“I’m not pushing anyone away.”
“So how do you think wee Eredine is coping? Her close friend psychotically tried to murder a man she considers a brother and a woman she’s come to care about.”
Lachlan flinched at the word psychotically as much as the thought of Ery, whom he had neglected. “We don’t know if Lucy is psychotic.”
“Fine. But let’s not get off page here. Eredine won’t leave her cabin. I finally spoke to Arrochar, and she’s on her way there now to try to talk with her. If anyone can help her, it’s Arro.”
Feeling guilty for ignoring Ery, he could only nod.
“Speaking of your siblings, they’re worried about you, and you won’t talk to them.”
“I’ve been busy trying to keep my club together.”
“And what about Robyn?” Mac said her name with such sharpness, it felt like the crack of a belt across his skin.
Lachlan glared at his friend.
Mac returned the expression. “It’s been a week. You’ve ignored her phone calls, avoided her when she’s been on the estate.”
He swallowed. “I just … need time.”
His friend heaved a sigh. “Lachlan … I’m a man.”
“I did notice that, thank you.”
Mac ignored his sarcasm. “There was nothing any man, no matter how capable or strong, could have done after taking a blow to the head like that. And perhaps you could’ve gotten out of rope bindings, but he’d twined your arms through the metal of that chair before handcuffing you. Add to the fact that you had a bad concussion and your faculties weren’t all there … there wasn’t a lot you could do.”
Shame filled him, making him furious. “I think you better get out.”
“Robyn didn’t die, Lachlan,” Mac said angrily instead. “She’s living and breathing and here … and so what if she had to be the one to rescue you both? All that matters is you both survived.”
“I don’t care that she saved us. I’m grateful she could.”
“But you wish it had been you. That you could prove to her that you are capable of protecting her.”
He looked away sharply, his cheeks hot with anger and embarrassment.
“She doesn’t need you to protect her, man. She just needs to know that you care enough to want to.”
Mac’s words pierced through his pride, reminding him of the night in the gym when Robyn accused him of abandoning her when she needed him.
“Fuck,” he hissed.
“Lachlan.”
Something in Mac’s voice drew his gaze, and he tensed at his friend’s grim expression.
“She’s leaving,” Mac said, sadness darkening his eyes. “Her flights are booked. She leaves for the States tomorrow morning.”
His panic was immediate and physically painful.
His chair rolled back into the wall as he stood abruptly. “Where is she now?”
Something like hope brightened Mac’s face. “At the beach near the caravan site.”
* * *
Heart pounding, Lachlan pulled his SUV to a stop beside the new one he’d provided after the other was totaled when Fergus ran her off the road.
That nightmare was over now, though.
And he needed to pull his head out of his arse.
Lachlan climbed from the car and kicked off his dress shoes and socks, placing them back inside. Rolling his trousers at the ankle, he strode down the dunes, letting the sand slide him down the slope and onto the beach. The golden stretch was a honey-wheat color from the rain that had fallen through the night. Compact and hard beneath his bare feet, the coolness of it felt good. Calmed him, even.
Looking left, he saw a few people in the distance with a dog bounding between them.
Turning right, he saw a couple not too far up the beach, and beyond them …
His heart slowed.
Robyn crouched near the shore with her camera to her face.
Lachlan walked down to the shoreline and let the chilled tide reach his ankles, circling like icy fingers before they were pulled back into the water. The sensation moved up his body, causing goose bumps across his skin.
It was so invigorating, his mind cleared.
Sticking to the shore, he let the water sweep around his feet every time it rushed in, and he thought on what he would say to Robyn when he reached her. Lachlan still wasn’t sure he deserved her, but she deserved to know his true feelings.
As he closed in, her profile came into sharp focus, and his emotions expanded like a physical thing through his chest. No woman was as beautiful to him as Robyn Penhaligon.
And the thought of losing her—
Fuck, it literally took his breath away.
Lachlan inhaled a gulp of fresh air, trying to quell his rising panic.
He watched as she stood, stretching those long legs as she lowered her camera so it hung heavily around her neck from its strap. She stared out at the water, lost in thought. The light breeze flicked at her ponytail while loose strands danced around her cheeks.
Every morning.
Every morning he wanted this woman’s face to be the first thing he saw upon waking.
Sensing a presence, Robyn looked sharply toward him. A wary expression
