Chapter 37 Lachlan
LACHLAN
“Ijust can’t believe this has happened,” Wesley Howard said for what felt like the millionth time.
I nodded, face blank, at the computer screen. “I know.”
“But we need to get our members back into the club.”
As a top investor, owner of the most expensive home on the estate, and a board member, Wesley, though not entirely lacking in compassion, ultimately viewed the whole thing as a business situation.
And I was glad for his attitude. The PR nightmare gave me something beyond sitting alone with my turmoil to focus on.
“I’ve spoken with Luther”—my actor friend and the other board member—“and if you’re not opposed to it, we’d like to ask Marci Robbins to replace Lucy on the board.”
Wesley scrubbed a hand over his thick beard. “Don’t you think it should be someone younger, on par with Lucy?”
I shook my head. “You should see the other members around Marci, Wes. The word fangirling was invented for it.”
My friend snorted. “I can see that happening.”
“She has clout and respect. We’re all about image. What better thing to brag about than Marci Robbins approving you for membership to Ardnoch?”
Wesley nodded along. “No, you’re right. Do it.”
I just had to hope the legendary British actor wasn’t put off by the scandal.
“I’ve got a break coming up, and the wife is missing Scotland. We’ll be at the house for a few weeks, and I’ll make it public that’s where I’m going.”
“That should help,” I said. “I’m grateful.”
“I’ll contact Roman, pull a few favors, and get him to come too.”
Wesley referred to Roman Bright, the son of Oscar-winning actor Garrett Bright, and an Academy Award-winning screenwriter in his own right. He’d canceled his annual May Stay after Mac’s stabbing.
“That would be great.” I clicked on my members’ file. “We’ve already reached out to sixty percent of our members, and most of them feel assured the club is a safe retreat once more. But there are a few A-listers we need to convince, and I think you and Roman coming to stay will do that.”
“Great.” Wesley leaned into the camera. “I gotta go, Lachlan, but I hope you’re doing okay, man. You look tired. Get some sleep.”
After saying goodbye, relieved to be off the video chat, I slumped in my chair. I had no fear that my members would return to Ardnoch. They loved the drama and scandal Lucy had left in her wake.
Lucy.
Her name was like a knife in my mind.
The night of the event when she’d revealed herself as the culprit behind everything, I’d been in such a state of agitation, I could barely speak.
Robyn stayed with me, and I’d experienced the most peculiar sensation of needing her near so I knew she was okay—and yet, I also wanted her as far from me as I could get her.
Never mind that one of my closest friends had betrayed me beyond imagination; I’d let Fergus, a man I could take out in a heartbeat, get the jump on me.
Whatever he’d hit me over the head with, it left me with a bad concussion, and I’d had a headache for days after.
The thought of Fergus not only doing that to me but dragging me downstairs in my own home and out to his truck, then into the shack and tying me to that fucking chair …
I should’ve woken up at some point before then.
If I’d only woken up, Robyn would never have been in that position.
It was a joke.
The great Lachlan Adair, once Hollywood’s most bankable action hero, handcuffed to a chair, incapacitated by a concussion but aware enough to watch on in horror as the woman I loved faced her death.
What a bloody hero.
I flinched.
In the end, Robyn had saved us.
I hadn’t been able to protect her.
Didn’t deserve her.
But fuck, did I love her beyond bearing and was so goddamn grateful she could save herself. If I’d had to watch her die while I could do nothing to stop it, the death Lucy had in store for me would’ve been welcome.
“No one knew,” Robyn said that night. “None of us had a clue, so stop blaming yourself.”
“Shouldn’t I have known? I’m the one who slept with her. Not to mention it’s my business to know what’s going on with my members’ careers. I should have been paying more attention. If I’d known what was happening to Lucy’s career, maybe—”
“Lachlan, Lucy was an amazing actor. We just didn’t realize she was acting with us. As for her career, I’m sure if any of your members knew what was happening to her, they also knew how close you two were and would very deliberately not gossip in front of you.”
That was probably the truth. But it didn’t make me feel any better. “What do you think will happen to her?”
“What do you want to happen to her?”
I thought on it carefully, trying to separate my rage from my guilt. “I want her to pay for what she’s done here … but I also want her to get the help she needs.”
“Me too.”
I gestured to her, and she’d crossed my room to slide onto the bed next to me. I pulled her against me and held her.
I’d held her all night. And in the morning, I’d gone into myself, trying to process the whole thing with Lucy. My distance hurt Robyn. Another thing I had to make up to her.
A knock at my office door brought my head up. “Come in.”
Mac strode into the room, and I straightened in my chair.
Things between us had been strained after my and Robyn’s breakup, and we hadn’t quite returned to normal. I hated it. “Mac.”
My head of security nodded and gestured to the chairs in front of my desk. “May I?”
“Of course.”
He settled in with casualness and studied me through his low-lidded gaze.
“What is it, Mac?”
“We had to call the police. A couple of paps scaled the front gate.”
I raised an eyebrow. “They’re getting desperate.”
Lucy’s attack and plot with Fergus had made the global news.
It wasn’t the kind of worldwide recognition Lucy planned for, but she had it now, anyway.
She wasn’t granted bail by Police Scotland and was currently in jail until the case went to trial.
My (and now Robyn’s) lawyer warned it was more than likely Lucy would either plead insanity or take a plea bargain to avoid going to trial.
Robyn thought Lucy wouldn’t want the world to know the details of the case—she wanted fame, not notoriety—and would take a plea bargain.
I 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. I 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 my expression. “Something else will take their interest in a few days.”
I nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.”
My friend narrowed his eyes at my 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.”
I flinched at the word psychotically as much as the thought of Ery, whom I 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, I 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 my skin.
I glared at my 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.”
I swallowed. “I just … need time.”
My friend heaved a sigh. “Lachlan … I’m a man.”
“I did notice that, thank you.”
Mac ignored my 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 me, making me 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.”
I looked away sharply, my 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 my pride, reminding me of the night in the gym when Robyn accused me of abandoning her when she needed me.
“Fuck,” I hissed.
“Lachlan.”
Something in Mac’s voice drew my gaze, and I tensed at my friend’s grim expression.
“She’s leaving,” Mac said, sadness darkening his eyes. “Her flights are booked. She leaves for the States tomorrow morning.”
My panic was immediate and physically painful.
I stood abruptly, my chair rolling back into the wall. “Where is she now?”
Something like hope brightened Mac’s face. “At the beach near the caravan site.”
Heart pounding, I pulled my SUV to a stop beside the new one I’d provided after the other was totaled when Fergus ran her off the road.
That nightmare was over now, though.
And I needed to pull my head out of my arse.
I climbed from the car and kicked off my dress shoes and socks, placing them back inside.
Rolling my trousers at the ankle, I strode down the dunes, letting the sand slide me 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 my bare feet, the coolness of it felt good. Calmed me, even.
Looking left, I saw a few people in the distance with a dog bounding between them.
Turning right, I saw a couple not too far up the beach, and beyond them …
My heart slowed.
Robyn crouched near the shore with her camera to her face.
I walked down to the shoreline and let the chilled tide reach my ankles, circling like icy fingers before they were pulled back into the water. The sensation moved up my body, causing goose bumps across my skin.
It was so invigorating, my mind cleared.
Sticking to the shore, I let the water sweep around my feet every time it rushed in, and I thought on what I would say to Robyn when I reached her. I still wasn’t sure I deserved her, but she deserved to know my true feelings.
As I closed in, her profile came into sharp focus, and my emotions expanded like a physical thing through my chest. No woman was as beautiful to me as Robyn Penhaligon.
And the thought of losing her—
Fuck, it literally took my breath away.
I inhaled a gulp of fresh air, trying to quell my rising panic.
I 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 I wanted this woman’s face to be the first thing I saw upon waking.
Sensing a presence, Robyn looked sharply toward me. A wary expression tightened her features, and I hated myself for making her feel that way about me. “What are you doing here?” she asked. I loved her voice. Low, mellifluous, with a slight rasp to it.
I couldn’t imagine not hearing her voice every day.
For a moment as I stopped before her, I just looked, enjoyed memorizing every piece of her in case I didn’t see her for a while. The only sounds between us were the lap of the water, the gulls above us in the sky.
Finally Robyn spoke again. “Mac told you I’m leaving.”
I nodded.
“I wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye,” she promised.
I knew that. She was too honest, too honorable to just walk away without a word. Not that I deserved it. “I stayed away too long. I’m sorry.”
Robyn looked away with a shrug. “I get it.”
“I don’t want you to get it. I shouldn’t have stayed away.” I took a step toward her and that not only brought her attention back to me but she retreated.
Fuck.
“Braveheart,” I said hoarsely, “I am so fucking sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. It isn’t your fault.”
“Not about that. Yes, about that … but I mean …” I gestured between us.
“For pushing you away. Twice.” I reached for her hands, and thankfully she didn’t pull them away.
“Fergus hit me over the head when I was on my way to come see you. To tell you I was sorry for the ultimatum … and that I love you.”
Her eyes widened.
I forged on. “I love you, Robyn. I want you to stay.”
The return of her wariness gutted me, as did the way she tugged on her hands until I had to release her.
“You don’t believe me,” I whispered, vacillating between self-directed fury and at her for her faithlessness.
“I don’t know,” Robyn answered, ever honest. “I don’t know, Lachlan. And I can’t stay even if I did. I’ll have to return for Lucy’s trial, but for now, I need to go back to Boston. I have to figure things out with my mom and Regan … I just … I have to figure things out.”
The urge to argue, to persuade, bubbled inside me, but that little voice in the back of my head, the one that taunted me for being unable to save her, whispered maybe this was how it was meant to be.
Because you could love someone more than you loved yourself.
But that didn’t mean you deserved them.