Skies Over Caledonia: A Small Town Marriage of Convenience Romance (The Highlands Series Book 4)

Chapter 28

These last few weeks I’d lived in a strange haze of unbelievable happiness and contentment, tinged with dread and anxiety. Last week, another ewe was found dead. Jared could put security cameras in the dairy to keep his cattle safe, but the sheep were out in the fields and there was no way to look after them twenty-four seven. He’d made the difficult decision to sell the flock again for their own safety. I’d stood holding his hand tight in mine just that morning while the sheep were loaded onto the truck to leave for their new home.

Jared was so despondent, I hadn’t wanted to leave him, but I had an appointment with Michelle in Inverness and he insisted I go.

Between this unknown threat hanging over our heads and my worry over Aria (who assured me she was fine, and that she and North were talking about their options), I had a lot of energy and emotion buzzing through me. Since I was a kid, I’d funneled that energy into my art. Back then I’d started sketching. The people and things around me. Then I’d begun sketching from my imagination and that’s really when art became a safe place for me and a way to process my feelings. The only time I hadn’t spent that energy through my art I’d ended up drinking, doing drugs, having sex with older men, and ending up in rehab.

These days, I stuck to the art.

Throughout the craziness of the last few weeks, I’d started work on a piece that I was especially proud of. And it wasn’t glass. It was something entirely different for me. Painting with oils on canvas in a more illustrative style than what people were used to seeing from me, I’d painted a figure that looked a lot like me walking up the driveway toward the farmhouse. The day after Jared told me I mattered more to him than anything else, I’d driven up the driveway of the farmhouse and suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of contentment and safety. I’d wanted to capture that emotion.

Even though I’d yet to spend a winter on the farm, the image came to my mind in the cold season—the farmhouse aglow in the dark snow, me in a hat and coat, the house beckoning me home to warmth and security. And love. Because though that word had not been shared, I was pretty certain Jared was just as in love with me as I was with him.

It might take him a while to get his mind and mouth around I love you, but I could wait.

A small smile prodded my lips as I sauntered down Ness Walk and past the buildings that sat along the River Ness that cut through the city. The north end opened out onto the Beauly Firth by the Kessock Bridge, which would take me home to Ardnoch. Following the river south led to Loch Ness.

Michelle’s gallery was across the river from Inverness Castle. The rain that had brought much respite to the farm this past week had drifted off to parts unknown. Sun beamed across the water of the Ness, lighting up the building that housed Michelle’s gallery. It had to be at least a hundred years old. Inside was a smallish gallery, but she’d created a minimalistic aesthetic broken up into different spaces by walls to separate the genres of art and artists. The walls were either black or white, so that nothing detracted the eye from the artwork.

A bell jingled above the door as I let myself in.

Michelle looked up from behind the counter and greeted me with a triumphant smile.

“Someone in London bought two of your pieces last night. I spent the morning packing them to ship!”

Delight blossomed through me as I reached her. It never ceased to amaze me that people wanted to pay money for my artwork. I hoped that feeling of wonder never went away and returned Michelle’s high-five with a laugh.

“That is the kind of news I needed to hear today,” I said truthfully.

“I’m glad to be the bearer. Now, what news do you have for me?”

Nervous but excited to show her the painting I was working on, I’d shown her what I could from the photos I’d taken on my phone. The painting was, of course, unfinished and sitting in my rented studio. It wasn’t quite the same as seeing it in real life, but I’d taken a video too so she could see the textures and the light, and the glimmers of metallic paint I’d added here and there for interest.

Unfortunately, my nervousness turned to anxiety as Michelle took my phone and looked over the images for a second time. Her lips pursed and she looked up at me regretfully as she handed the phone back. “It’s not really what I’m looking for. I already sell an artist that does something similar. I like your glasswork, Allegra. It makes you stand out. You should stay in your lane.”

Irritation zinged through me. Utter disappointment too. Because this painting meant a great deal to me. I wanted people to feel that when they looked at it.

If Michelle didn’t …

Stay in my lane?

I guess that’s what you told an artist once you started making money from their art.

Stay in your lane.

It fucking hurt. And it chafed.

Giving Michelle a tight smile, I nodded and made conversation about what had sold since the art show, what pieces were still left.

Relief filled me as soon as I could make an excuse to leave. There might as well have been heavy clouds hanging over Inverness for what little good the sunshine did to lift my mood.

Needing a pick-me-up, I walked across the bridge and traversed the streets until I found the coffee place I liked. It was in the opposite direction of where I’d parked my car, but it was worth it for their latte and croissant. I’d thought earlier about doing a little shopping in the city, but now I just wanted to return to Ardnoch.

As I stepped out of the coffee shop, caffeine and carbs in hand, a tingling sensation on my nape caused me to pause. I looked to the left and locked eyes with an unfamiliar man. What was strange and roused my instincts was that he looked away from me as quickly as possible. He scrolled through his phone, casual, as he leaned against the building.

Something about him was too casual.

I tried to place him but couldn’t. He was dressed in a long-sleeved dark tee and dark jeans and he really didn’t look that threatening. Dark hair, clean cut. But there was tension along the lines of his shoulders that someone who had drawn a shit ton of live-model nudes for four years could easily observe.

My stomach flipped unpleasantly, and I slipped on my sunglasses, trying to shake off the paranoia. For the most part, I could walk around Inverness with anonymity, but occasionally someone recognized me. Trying to remain calm, I strode up the street, past him, heading toward the parking lot where I’d left my Wrangler.

That tingling sensation on my neck returned within seconds. Pretending to stop to fumble through my purse, glancing back as if I’d forgotten something at the coffee place, I caught sight of the man walking behind me. He glanced down at his phone again, slowing to a stop outside a pet store.

My heart beat hard in my chest as I faked finding what I’d been looking for in my bag and walked forward again.

Some people might call it being neurotic, but when your sister and friends had a history of being kidnapped, you kind of jumped to worst-case scenario in situations like this. Fumbling for my phone, I called Jared as I strolled into a clothing boutique. I smiled tightly at the blond woman behind the counter as I pretended to peruse the items, all the while glancing outside.

The man had stopped at the building opposite the clothing boutique and was staring inside at me.

Fuck.

Jared picked up. “Can I call you back?” He practically shouted, the sound of the tractor loud in the background.

I hurried to the back of the store. “Jared, I think I’m being followed.”

“What?”

“Jared—”

“Hang on.” The noise of the tractor cut off. “What did you say?”

“I think I’m being followed,” I hissed impatiently in my freak-out.

“How? What? Where are you?” I heard the panic in his voice and hated it.

“I’m still in Inverness. I noticed this guy watching me and then I turned around and he was following me. Now I’ve walked into a store, and he’s stopped outside the store opposite. It could be paranoia, but my Spidey senses are tingling like crazy.”

“Is there a back way out of the store you’re in?” His words were calm, but I could hear the sharpness edging them.

“I don’t know,” I whispered shakily.

“Ask whoever is running the store. Stay on the phone.”

Nodding, I ignored the quizzical look another customer threw me and hurried over to the blond behind the counter. Another glance out the window told me the guy hadn’t moved and he was watching me.

Double fuck.

Smoothing my expression, I asked the woman, “Is there a back door out of here?”

She frowned. “Um … it’s staff only.”

“Explain to her who you are and what’s happening,” Jared commanded sharply in my ear.

I nodded again, even though he couldn’t see me. Shifting my sunglasses off my face, I was relieved to see recognition flicker across the blond’s expression. That would make things a lot easier. “My name is Allegra Howard McCulloch?—”

“I know who you are.” She beamed excitedly. “I am such a fan of your father’s work. And your sister’s husband, oh my God! Congrats on your marriage! Do you?—”

“A man is following me,” I cut her off, keeping a smile on my face and probably looking deranged.

The woman stiffened.

“Don’t react. Don’t look. But he’s outside and he’s following me.”

To her credit, she smiled in return, even though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Okay. What do you need?”

“Is there a back way out that will let me get to my car on Charles Street?”

She kept smiling as she nodded. “Why don’t I show you, madam?”

Relief filled me. “Thank you.”

“Thank fuck,” Jared murmured in my ear.

I followed her through the store, past changing rooms and into a staff-only area. Out of sight of the man, I dropped the crazy smile. “Thank you for this. What is your name?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Annie.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Annie.”

“Do you need me to call the police?”

“I’m on the phone with my husband. He’ll call if I need him to.”

Annie opened a door that led out onto an alley. She gestured to the left where the alley turned into a lane behind the stores. “Stick to the lane until it comes to an end. It’ll bring you by Berry’s BB. And from there, you’re just a straight shot down to the carpark.”

Trembling now, I thanked Annie again and then hurried into the alley.

“I’m out,” I told Jared as I jog-walked onto the cobbled lane.

“Run, Allegra.”

“What if I’m being paranoid?”

“Then running is just a bit of exercise, but it would make me feel better if you fucking ran!”

“Okay, no need to bite my head off. I’m already freaked out enough.”

“Sorry, baby. I just hate being here while you’re there.”

I murmured my understanding as I regretfully dumped my latte and croissant in the trash. Thankful for the flat pumps I wore, though I felt every little stone under my feet, I ran until I was off the lane and out onto the street surrounded by people and vehicles. If anyone thought I was a crazy lady, I didn’t care. I just kept running until my bright yellow Jeep came into view. As soon as traffic cleared, I raced across the street and into the parking lot. Fumbling with my keys and phone, glancing around to make sure the man was nowhere in sight, it took me a tension-building amount of time to get in the car.

I could hear Jared shouting my name from the phone I’d dropped on the passenger seat. But I was in a hurry to switch on the engine and get out of there. I’d never been more annoyed with myself for buying a bright yellow freaking car.

The phone connected to the vehicle as I swung out of the parking lot. “I’m here, I’m here!” I cried in response to Jared’s panicked shouts.

“Fuck!” He bit out. “I’m coming to meet you.”

“Don’t. I’m in my car and I’m on my way.”

“If you see anyone following you, call the police.”

“You got it.”

“In fact, just stay on the phone with me.”

“For an hour? Don’t you have tractoring to do?” I attempted to tease him to ease the unbearable tension. My gaze kept flicking to my rearview mirror, searching for any signs that I was being followed.

“Not while this is going on. I’ll lose my mind with worry if you don’t stay on the phone.”

Tenderness suffused me. “Okay. I can tell you all about Michelle’s shitty response to my painting while we pass the time.”

“What?” He sounded annoyed.

“She told me it was similar to stuff one of her other artists is doing and that I should, and I quote, ‘Stay in my lane.’ Speaking of …” I glared at a driver who swung last minute into my lane. I had to hit the brakes. “Asshole. Learn to drive! I’m a fucking American and I know how to drive here better than you, pal!”

I heard Jared’s huff of laughter. “I can’t believe you’re yelling at bad drivers after what just happened.”

Fear shivered through me. “I don’t want to think about that until I’m home.”

He blew out a breath that sounded shaky. Voice gruff, he replied, “Okay. So what does ‘stay in your lane’ mean?”

“I don’t know but … it made me sad. I love this painting and when I look at it, it makes me … feel.”

“Then open your own gallery. You said that was the plan, right?”

My heart raced for an entirely different reason now. That was the plan. I’d given myself eighteen months to get it up and running. Now I only had fifteen. Honestly, with everything else going on, I hadn’t put as much effort into it as I should have. “Yeah, it’s supposed to be the plan.”

“Then do it. Allegra, Ardnoch brings in more tourists than any other town in the Highlands. We have no art gallery, which seems like a bit of a failure on Ardnoch’s part. You live in the perfect place to open a gallery that showcases anything and everything your imagination can come up with. And the beauty of that is, no one else will control what you sell. No one can tell you to stay in your lane. Especially when they’re wrong. Because Michelle is wrong. Her opinion is biased because she’s making money on your glasswork. That’s what she cares about. I care about you. And you know deep down Michelle is wrong.”

Love. So much love filled me. “Thank you,” I whispered hoarsely.

“You don’t need to thank me, baby. You just need to get your arse back here so I know you’re safe.”

“On my way home,” I promised.

“I’ll be there when you get here.”

Tears filled my eyes. It had been a day! And I was emotionally overwhelmed. But in that moment, the tears were happy tears.

I knew what I’d call my painting.

I’ll Be There When You Get Here.