Stalker/attacker-wise.
As soon as she discerned I was okay, Lucy departed Scotland to meet with several producers and directors about potential future projects. But more members had descended on the castle. It was May, closing in on summer, when the estate was at its busiest. It was still strange to see famous people wandering around, working out in the gym, trailing caddies on the golf course, indulging in the spa, but I was getting a little used to it now. Besides, they weren’t all famous “faces.” There were a few writers and directors who I may have heard of in passing but couldn’t pick who they were out of a lineup.
It kept Lachlan busy while I produced photographs he’d commissioned for the castle. I was a little blown away that he’d asked, but he told me Arrochar had shown him my Instagram, and he genuinely loved what I could do. That meant a lot. During the hours I wasn’t adding to my portfolio, I still worked out with Eredine and added in one-on-one self-defense lessons with Arrochar in the early evenings.
There was an earthiness to Arrochar that Lachlan didn’t have. That wasn’t a bad thing. Not like I used to think. He just had this aura, this polish and self-assuredness that made even the most confident person feel a little intimidated by him. It didn’t help he wasn’t the easiest man to read, and he didn’t always give much away beyond base feelings or what was going on in the moment.
Lachlan rarely talked about his past, his parents, or life before the club. Arrochar, however, chatted to me about what it was like growing up with a bunch of boys after their mother’s death. Vivien Adair died from a blood clot after giving birth to Arrochar. Apparently, their father, Stuart, struggled after their mom’s death, and his sister, Imogen, helped raise the kids for a year before he got himself together, but she’d remained as a mother figure in their lives. They had no grandparents on their mother’s side, but their paternal grandparents handed over their right to Ardnoch Estate and disappeared to South Australia to live a warmer, simpler life.
Arro was four when their Aunt Imogen died in a hiking accident, sending their father into another deep depression. Their grandparents returned for their daughter’s funeral but left Ardnoch behind for good afterward. They hadn’t seen them since, though they did send a Christmas hamper every year.
Lachlan, being the eldest at only eleven years old, took it upon himself to parent his siblings. She said it was a role he never shook off.
He took a break from it to go to college and then pursue his Hollywood career, but Arro said, despite his protests that he wanted to retire as an actor, she always thought there was no coincidence that it aligned with their father’s death. Arro was with their dad when he died. They were out walking her father’s dog on the beach when he just collapsed. One minute he was there, the next minute gone. Heart attack.
So much death and sadness for their family.
Lachlan had yet to mention any of it to me. Not that we didn’t talk. While we had lots of sex, it unexpectedly wasn’t just sex. I didn’t know if it was what I’d said to him the night of my attack, or if it was just a natural thing we’d fallen into, but after sex, I’d make to leave, he’d stop me, and we’d talk about our days before drifting off to sleep.
That first night in the castle in my bed, I’d woken in the morning to find Lachlan had returned to his room. Understanding the act for what it was, I returned the favor. I’d slip out in the morning before he woke up, and he’d not asked me to stop, so I took that to mean he appreciated that little nod to maintaining some kind of casual distance between us.
“Family,” he murmured after what felt like a long while. “Family has always mattered the most.”
“Was that something you learned from your dad?”
“Mum, actually.” He surprised me.
I’d already done the mental calculations. “You were only seven when she died.”
Lachlan leaned up, resting his head in the palm of his hand. “Yes. Seven. But I still remember conversations with her. By the time I was born, both her parents had died. She was an only child and had always wanted brothers and sisters.”
I smiled thinking about it. “So she made sure you had plenty.”
“Exactly. Mum fell pregnant with Thane three months after giving birth to me, so we grew up almost as close as twins.”
“Three months? Ouch.” I winced at the thought.
He chuckled. “She didn’t seem to mind. I don’t think.”
“Then there was Brodan?”
“He came a few years later. I was three when he was born. Then Arran was a year after Brodan.”
“That’s a lot of babies in a short space of time.”
His expression grew solemn. “Dad told me when I was older that the doctor suggested they stop after Arran. Mum was thirty-seven, and she’d put her body through a lot. But she wanted a wee girl. One more time, she’d said to Dad. I want my wee Arrochar.” Pain glistened in Lachlan’s beautiful eyes. “I think Dad blamed himself, but the doctors said the blood clot was just something that happens. Rare, but it happens.”
I reached out to stroke his cheek, feeling the welcome soft bristle of his beard against my fingertips. Lachlan caught my hand and brought it to his mouth to press a sweet kiss to the back of it. When he released me, I couldn’t resist the urge to brush my fingers over his mouth.
Drawing my thumb down his lower lip, I said, “I’m sorry about your mom.”
He took my hand again, curled his around it, and rested it against his chest. A heavy silence fell between us.
Wanting to ease the
