Chapter Sixteen
Finlay buttoned up his shirt and adjusted his cuffs. Maybe Genevieve’s usual boyfriends would have whipped out tuxedos or kilt suits for dinner, but he wasn’t in that league. Sure, he owned a kilt made in the finest McBride tartan, but the rest of the ensemble was pricey, and he’d never invested in any of it. He rented the jacket and shirt from the kilt shop in the town whenever he was invited to a wedding and borrowed his dad’s shoes and socks. His grandmother had given both him and his cousin Aidan kilts for their twenty-first birthdays. Such was the forgiving nature of kilt design that even if he and Aidan had a middle-age spread at some point, the kilts would still fit. But Finlay hadn’t changed a huge amount in size or bulk since he was twenty-one. Anything he’d put on was muscle built from the cycling and sports he loved doing. The kilt was more likely to get an outing alongside a t-shirt at the Highland Games or if he went to watch Scotland in the rugby.
The bathroom door clicked open and Genevieve entered the bedroom. Finlay’s jaw dropped, possibly for real, though he tried to hold himself together. It wasn’t easy. She looked utterly stunning in a floor-length chiffon dress in a delicate soft green. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders and around the halter neck. The air seemed to shimmer around her and she floated rather than walked to the bedside stand where she opened a small jewellery box.
‘You look beautiful.’ He’d said something similar when they were going to Geoff’s party and it was true. Whatever she chose to wear she looked stunning, but when she dressed up she was off the charts gorgeous – walking perfection.
‘Thanks.’ She glanced up in the middle of lacing a sparkly bracelet around her wrist. ‘You look pretty good yourself.’
‘You think?’ He wished he’d made more of an effort. There hadn’t been a lot of time, but if he’d just hired a Bonnie Prince Charlie shirt even, he could have worn his kilt and looked a bit more suitable.
‘Yeah.’ She smiled. ‘Understated elegance.’
He chuckled. ‘Nice. Understated, that’s me.’
‘Actually, it is.’ She closed the lid of the jewellery box. ‘You have that way about you.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, you’re kind of always there in the background, sensible and steady. You don’t push yourself forward, but once people get to know you, you’re… well, different.’
‘Am I?’ He kind of wanted to hear what else she had to say, though he knew what she meant, and it was a fairly accurate description. In so many ways, he’d lived in the shadows of people more out-there than him. His parents were both sociable people. His sister definitely was. His cousin Aidan had obvious looks and an aura of quiet power around him. Oliver was a brain box and had always been top of every class. Finlay was good at sport but rarely took part in the most popular one – football. He’d never joined the team, always preferring rugby and cycling. Wherever he went and whoever he was with, he was like the wingman rather than the lead. And he wasn’t complaining. Often it was nicer to let others shine and easier to bask in their glow than make light of his own.
‘You’re a really funny guy,’ Genevieve said. ‘Your sense of humour is so dry, but it makes me laugh. I imagine a lot of people don’t get it or don’t notice.’
He nodded. ‘Maybe just as well.’
‘Maybe.’ She smiled at him and her eyes sparkled as brightly as the ring still adorning her left hand. A powerful wish to make this situation real surged through him but that was madness. He’d committed to going to Dubai and she’d made it quite clear she couldn’t go there because of little Mitzi. And really, was there actually the possibility she liked him enough? Sure, they were getting on and having fun, but only because they were safe in the knowledge this wasn’t real. It didn’t mean she felt strongly enough to marry him. And he didn’t want to marry her, did he? She was another Elise – beautiful, but with her own agenda. Hadn’t she demonstrated that by talking him into going to her dad’s party and refusing to deny the engagement until she’d wrung all the usefulness from the situation? He couldn’t afford to fall into that trap again. How gullible had he been with Elise? He’d believed all her lies right to the end. Not this time. He’d play along for now because it was going nowhere in the long run.
‘Shall we go?’ He held out his elbow like a Victorian hero in one of those period dramas his mum loved. Genevieve looped her hand into it. Every time she was close like this and her perfume soared into his consciousness, a powerful awakening of his senses took place. Ignore it. This just demonstrated what an easy guy he was. Flash him a smile, waft some perfume under his nose and he’d follow like a sad puppy.
‘Do you think Flora will eat with us?’ Genevieve asked.
‘I expect so. Part of her reason for opening the place up like this seems to be to get company.’
‘Maybe she should have made it a single person’s retreat.’
‘Ha,’ Finlay huffed out a laugh. ‘That gives off all the wrong vibes though. It would be almost impossible to market that without getting a whole lot of people showing up, thinking it was the place for an easy lay. I doubt that’s the kind of thing she wants.’
‘True. And I suppose with her fascination with romance, that’s what she wants to promote.’
They reached the dining-room door and Finlay hesitated. ‘Should we just go in? Or knock?’
‘Open it. She said we could go anywhere as long as it wasn’t her private quarters.’
‘Wonder what she has in there?’ he whispered.
Genevieve threw him a look. ‘Nothing bad, I’m sure. But who would want guests nosing around?’
‘Still can’t help wondering.’
‘Stop it.’ She fake-slapped his arm. ‘She’s nice really.’
‘Doesn’t mean there aren’t skeletons lurking in her cupboards.’ He pushed the door.
‘Should we just sit?’ Genevieve said. ‘Seems odd that she’s not here.’
‘Burying the remains of the last ones out the back before she gets to us.’
‘Finlay.’ She glared at him.
‘Sorry, bad joke.’ He put up his hands, but she smirked.
Three places were made up at one of the tables. Two beside each other and one opposite. For all Finlay might have joked, he liked the fact Flora had gone for small tables and not one long one. If he’d come here when other couples were also in residence, he wasn’t sure he’d want his romantic weekend shared with everyone. He’d like to wine and dine his date in private, not sit with everyone else while Flora held court at the top. Maybe others wouldn’t mind but it seemed intrusive to him.
‘Apologies, mucho apologies.’ Flora bustled in behind them, dressed in a very bright red and black layered dress that reminded Finlay of a Spanish dancer doll his mum had bought his sister when they’d been on holiday in Torremolinos as kids. ‘I got caught up on a call. Now take a seat. Ann has everything ready and will be bringing it up shortly.’
Finlay pulled back the seat for Genevieve and she bowed her head slightly as she took it. ‘Thank you, kind sir.’
‘Oh you are wonderful,’ Flora said. ‘Ah. Here’s the champagne.’ She lifted a bottle from a cooler on the thick oak sideboard.
‘Let me get yours too,’ Finlay said, skirting the table and pulling out her seat.
‘What an absolute charmer you are.’
He caught Genevieve’s eye and tried not to laugh.
Ann, the housekeeper, arrived with a catering trolley laden with silver dishes. She crossed to a sideboard and lifted them on to it, then removed the lids. One by one, she ported plates to the table.
‘We have a mini tower of haggis, neeps and tatties and I also have cock-a-leekie soup. It’s all in small portions, so you can enjoy both if you like,’ Ann said, resting a plate in front of Finlay.
‘This looks really good,’ he said.
‘Let me get a photo,’ Genevieve said. ‘I love the towers. So cute.’
Cute was one word for it. Hopefully the main course would be larger. Finlay could eat this in one mouthful – though obviously he’d been brought up with better table manners. His mum would murder him for even having such a coarse thought.
‘Guess what I’ve been doing while the two of you have been having fun upstairs?’
Finlay stopped chewing, not wanting to look at Genevieve. Was this where Flora confessed to having spy cams, after all? Had she seen them mucking around? Him rattling the headboard and accidentally pulling off Genevieve’s bikini top?
‘I’ve been stalking you.’
Finlay gulped his food and almost choked. ‘Pardon?’
Genevieve was looking at her, a frown growing on her otherwise smooth forehead.
‘Online, of course.’ She grinned, took a sip of champagne, then chuckled. ‘I’m not that odd. Listening at doors and peeking through keyholes is hardly my thing.’
‘We didn’t think that,’ Genevieve said, not looking at Finlay. ‘Though you had me worried for a second.’
‘What did you discover online?’ Finlay asked, not sure he really wanted to know.
‘Many things. Your proposal was very romantic. The rose garden was such a stunning backdrop. I think I’d like to have a rose garden here. Very romantic.’
‘That clip isn’t still there, is it?’ Finlay said to Genevieve.
‘Not on my feed but someone might have saved it.’
‘I have my ways,’ Flora said. ‘I was looking you up, Finlay, and I fell down a rabbit hole when I realised you were related to Hayley McBride.’
‘You know Hayley?’
‘She works at the salon in Glenbriar. I’ve been having my hair done there since the year dot. Hayley isn’t usually my stylist but the last time I was in, she dyed my hair pink for a charity event I was attending because poor Amber was ill.’
‘Ah.’ Finlay knocked back some champagne. ‘And did Hayley have that film on her social media?’
‘A very short clip. How nice for her to have her brother and her friend get together.’
Finlay was going to kill her. Not that she’d get why. He hardly ever looked at his social media sites but he could imagine Hayley writing a gushing congratulations message to them both. Why hadn’t Genevieve spotted it and asked her to remove it? The second he thought it, he knew why. She couldn’t ask that without confessing none of it had been real.
‘It’s all happened so quickly,’ Genevieve said. ‘I’ve hardly had time to thank people for all the messages. I’ve probably missed lots.’
‘I had a strange memory though,’ Flora said. ‘I’m sure Hayley told me her brother was engaged to her friend before, when she was doing my hair. She was telling me about an engagement party she was invited to. But that can’t have been you if you only just got engaged. Do you have another brother?’
‘No,’ Finlay said, his shoulders sagging. ‘It was me.’
‘But not me,’ Genevieve said.
‘I was engaged to another of Hayley’s friends.’
‘But this was only last month sometime.’
‘I know.’ His voice was quiet and flat. How could he escape the fact that stuff like this would forever punctuate his life? Very soon he’d be defending himself on his second failed engagement to one of his sister’s friends and the third in his life. Hardly something to be proud of.
‘Oh dear,’ Flora said. ‘I’m not sure whether to be intrigued or worried.’
‘He didn’t cheat on anyone, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ Genevieve said. ‘We’d obviously met before. I’ve known Finlay for years, but we didn’t start dating until after.’
‘You can’t have been dating long before the engagement.’
‘No,’ Finlay agreed, not looking at either of them. ‘When you know, you know.’ His words were flat and he realised it sounded a bit sarcastic but there was no getting them back.
‘But I guess you didn’t always know,’ Flora said. ‘Or wouldn’t you have got together long before now?’
‘Well…’ Genevieve frowned and her eyes met his. ‘I always liked Finlay. When we were younger, I didn’t think he’d notice me or look at me as anything but one of Hayley’s friends. When he left school, I didn’t see him much. We only really reconnected when he started dating Elise, but obviously I didn’t act on my feelings or anything then. She’s my friend too. But when they split, I didn’t want to wait any longer. I’d waited long enough and if it was ok for Elise to date our friend’s brother, why not me?’
Finlay’s gaze never left hers as she spoke. Her words sounded true, but she was just making that up, right?
‘Seems a real shame you didn’t notice her long ago,’ Flora said to him.
‘Yes. It is.’ Still not moving his focus from her, he sipped his champagne. Why hadn’t he noticed her before? Was she telling the truth? She’d always seemed so cold.
Ann arrived with the trolley laden with more silver dishes. She laid them on the sideboard, then cleared away the starter plates.
‘Who’s looking after your adorable dog this weekend?’ Flora asked Genevieve.
‘My mum and dad. Mitzi loves their dogs, so she’ll be very happy.’
‘Wonderful. I’m considering getting a dog myself. Would you recommend French bulldogs as a breed?’
‘Definitely,’ Genevieve said, and she looked delighted and relieved to engage Flora on a safer topic of conversation.
Finlay leaned back as Ann laid a plate of smoked venison and honeyed shallots before him. It looked utterly delicious but his stomach felt tight and unsettled. As he cut a section of meat and placed it in his mouth, his thoughts roamed away from the canine conversation and back to what Genevieve had just said. Were there other forces at play here? Was this ‘arrangement’ more than a ruse to get Flora to make a deal with Geoff? Another memory stirred in the back of his mind; he couldn’t quite place it and he wasn’t even sure it was real. Had Genevieve not said something like that to him before? Had they had a similar discussion in the past? But when? A realisation slapped him like someone had upended the champagne cooler over him. The evening he’d proposed. They’d been so drunk but words had been said, not just by her. Some of it was caught on film, the end of what had been a night of confessions and kisses. But that was just drunken ramblings… Wasn’t it? None of it was real. It mustn’t be. He couldn’t afford it to be.