Chapter 22
WESTON
“You’re looking all Highland casual,” Locke said, catching me in the gut with his elbow.
He plucked at my polo shirt. I’d gone with a nice burgundy to match the Kincaid tartan that adorned the edges of the plaque Lena had made up for the occasion.
The one we were set to present soon, honoring Grandad and his lifelong dedication to Braeburn.
“I think they call this Highland chic,” Alistair joked half-heartedly. “Are you finally embracing your role as king of the castle?”
“Lena does keep calling me Lord Kincaid,” I muttered. “Or my liege.”
Locke smirked. “Is that only when you’re in bed or—”
“Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you,” I warned.
He snickered. I never should have told them about me and Lena, but I’d had a hard time keeping quiet when my friends had messaged to ask how things were going.
“Kidding, man,” Locke said. “We’re happy for you. Lena’s great. And I mean, you’re already married, why not have a good time?”
“But tell me,” Alistair said, “has she seen you in a kilt yet?”
I shoved at them both as we walked through the festival, two rows of booths rising up on either side of us.
“Oi, are those the same pies we nicked when we were kids?” Locke said, his tone filled with amusement.
“Where?” Alistair asked.
Locke pointed ahead to a booth ladened with pies, sausage rolls, and Scotch eggs.
“Ah, yes,” Locke said, throwing his arms over both our shoulders. “Old Liam McGregor. Now this brings back memories.”
A flicker shifted across Alistair’s face. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was close, chasing away the heaviness of stress that seemed to be carved into his features these days.
“Don’t make eye contact,” I muttered. “The man has not forgotten nor has he forgiven us. He brought it up during our very first committee meeting.”
Alistair huffed a laugh. “He’s been sitting on that for a good twenty years, huh?”
“Should probably throw the poor guy a tenner and make it right,” Locke said. “I don’t need that kind of crime weighing down my conscience.”
At his words, Alistair stiffened, and a bead of regret caught in my chest. I knew Locke hadn’t meant to bring up the turmoil Alistair was currently experiencing, but I wasn’t sure ignoring it was the right answer either.
The guy clearly needed someone to lean on right now.
The tabloid stories were worse than ever, and there were whispers of a legal battle brewing between him and the board.
“Sorry, man,” Locke muttered, clapping him on the shoulder. “I didn’t mean—”
“S’fine,” Alistair said, sighing heavily.
“Any updates on Jessica?” I asked, already suspecting the answer. If he’d managed to track down his cheating, money-stealing ex, I’m certain he would have said something.
Alistair shook his head. “Not a single lead, according to the police. I’ve employed a private investigator, but I’m not hopeful that’ll turn anything up. I’m certain she’s well and truly disappeared.”
“And the board—”
“Wants answers,” he said. “They want someone to pay.”
“Do you really think it’s going to come to a lawsuit?” I asked.
Alistair rubbed his hand down his face. “That’s what my solicitors keep telling me. They’re preparing, and I’m trying not to let myself spiral. I want to be here for Kenna. It’s a lot to have to explain to a toddler where her mother went.”
“Anything we can do?” Locke asked. “Seriously, man. Anything? You want me to join the hunt for Jessica myself, I’ll do it.”
Alistair huffed a humorless laugh. “How about you join the kilted dash? For old times’ sake.”
Locke laughed. “Unfortunately for you, I forgot my kilt.”
“Eh, I’m sure we can find one around here for you to borrow,” I said.
“That…sounds like something I definitely don’t want to do,” Locke said.
“You did say anything,” Alistair pointed out. “And it’s Kenna’s first festival. I think you should impress upon her the importance of tradition.”
“Speaking of Kenna, where is she? I still haven’t gotten my hug,” I said, looking around for the toddler. I was surprised Alistair had let her out of his sight with how busy it was, but the newly single dad also deserved a break.
“She went off with Agnes at the promise of many sweets. I didn’t have the heart to say no to her, though I’d prefer she wasn’t high on sugar all afternoon.”
“As long as she doesn’t find her way into the gin tasting,” I teased.
“How’re the wind farm plans shaping up?” Alistair asked, changing the subject. I supposed he’d taken as much of an interrogation as he could handle, and it was now my turn.
“They’d be better if I didn’t currently have Jasper’s solicitors sniffing around,” I admitted dryly, nodding to some of the townsfolk who waved as I passed.
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Locke said, smiling at a woman selling beeswax candles. “Not after what you overheard at the funeral.”
I nodded. “Lena did manage to get the architect’s initial sketches sent over, which look very promising, and I finally had the surveyors out to start looking at the property.”
“Is everything else on hold?” Alistair asked.
“Not on hold,” I said, my own impatience tugging at me. “Though I am proceeding with caution in case that letter turns out to be more than hot air. I don’t want to give Jasper unnecessary ammunition.”
“Oh Christ,” Locke complained, scrubbing a hand through his hair and looking around like he was searching for a post to hide behind. “Speak of the devil.”
I turned around in time to see Jasper shoving through the crowd gathered in front of the cheesemonger’s booth. His beady eyes were narrowed even more than usual as he made a beeline for us.
I sucked in a sharp breath, grumbling as a storm cloud settled over me. The guy had some nerve even showing up today.
“Well, if it isn’t everyone’s favorite cousin,” Locke said, putting on his show smile. The one he used to wine and dine potential clients or seal deals on multimillion-dollar properties. The sudden shift in personality was dramatic and impressive. “How’ve you been, Jazzy?”
Jasper shot him a withering look, and I was pleased to note that the old nickname still irritated him enough to make the muscle in his cheek twitch.
“And how’s the wife?” Locke continued.
“Amanda,” I added helpfully.
“That’s it. It would be lovely to see her again. We seemed to miss each other at the funeral.” If Jasper had picked up on Locke’s insinuation, he didn’t rise to the provocation.
“Enjoying the festival?” I asked him.
He smirked, his beady eyes flicking over me. “Grandad would be so proud, wouldn’t he?” The sarcasm was heavy. “Weston sweeps in to save the hokey little tourist bait. God forbid we miss out on a parade of half-drunk lads in kilts.”
His words irked me more than I wanted to admit. Grandad might not be around to hear them, but I wasn’t going to let Jasper disrespect the memory of what the festival meant to him and to Braeburn.
“Why don’t you run off and look miserable somewhere else,” I said.
“Oh, no.” Jasper took a step closer to me. “I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I’ll be hanging around until you get up on that stage and tell everyone you committed fraud to inherit the estate.”
“Quit your moaning,” Alistair said, shaking his head.
“I hardly think you’re one with any authority to speak where fraud’s concerned,” Jasper bit back.
My cheek twitched. Hell if Jasper was going to shit on Grandad and my friends. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to get out of all of this,” I growled, nostrils flaring as I rose to my full height, staring him down, “but it sure as hell isn’t the estate.”
“What do you even know about the place?” Jasper sneered. “You’ve barely even been here these past years.” My hands curled into fists. “Why don’t you start with that when you give your speech?”
“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Jazzy,” Locke cut in, stepping between us.
“Don’t call me that!” Jasper snarled at him before his eyes found mine again. “You don’t deserve the estate, Weston.”
I crossed my arms to keep from doing something stupid. “And you think you do?”
“Grandad wanted the estate to go to someone settled, with a proper family,” Jasper said. “That’s why he put that clause in his will. But what you have is a sham relationship with a fake wife who’s probably only with you because you paid her off.”
A flash of rage prickled against the back of my neck, red hot, and my knuckles blanched. “You know nothing about my relationship,” I hissed.
“Who would?” Jasper said. “Since you married the woman out of the blue without anyone knowing.”
“Why don’t you run off and let the solicitors handle this?” Locke said, glancing between us both.
“You’re wasting your time contesting the will,” I snarled before he could. Jasper could pry the estate from my cold, dead hands.
“Am I?” Jasper said, his mouth curling into a cocky smirk. “Because it sounds to me like you’re concerned.”
“The only thing I’m concerned about is you walking away before you make a fool of yourself.”
“I’m not the fool here,” Jasper spat out. “I see right through you, cousin. We both know you only came back because of the money. Getting the estate means you can develop the wind farm project and line your pockets.”
I sneered. Of course that was how he saw my plans for the wind farm because that was why he had made that deal with the Lawton Group.
All he’d ever wanted was a clear path to easy money, and he couldn’t imagine anyone being motivated by anything else.
He had no concept of what the estate meant to me or what Grandad truly wanted.
He had no idea how important it was to Grandad to provide stability for Braeburn.
The wind farm meant longevity. It wasn’t at all about the money. It was about people.
“You’re one to talk about the money,” I said. “Have a nice little tour with your investors the day of Grandad’s funeral? The man was barely in the ground while you were talking numbers.”
Jasper’s eyes widened. Did he really think he’d gotten away with that?
“The estate should go to me,” he said, plowing on. We’d started to draw the attention of some of the other festivalgoers now. “Especially since my wife and I have a baby on the way.” He stepped closer, getting into my face. “We’ve got a real marriage, unlike your shabby little farce.”
My hands clenched so tightly my fists throbbed. Jasper needed to back the hell up before I put my fist through his face. “Back up,” I warned.
“Or what?” he spat. “You’re gonna hit me? Go ahead. It’s been a minute since you’ve caused a PR scandal. I’d love to hear what the board will think of that. Maybe they’ll start to realize what a disgrace you are.”
Anger pulsed in my temple. I was starting to see red.
“Weston,” Locke said, getting in my line of sight. “It’s not worth it.”
“Why don’t you listen to your friends?” Jasper said with that smug little grin. “At least one of them knows what running a company into the ground looks like.”
Alistair’s hand landed on my shoulder, digging in hard enough to bring me back to reality.
For all his petty taunts, we both knew the truth of the situation.
I was the one heading a successful business while Jasper’d spent his whole career thus far looking for coattails to ride on.
I was the one with friends at my back while he’d only ever had flunkeys.
And I was the one with an incredible wife who was a true partner—who I trusted completely and who was always there when I needed her.
What Jasper had with Amanda was nothing compared to that.
There was no reason for me to listen to him when nothing he had to say was worth hearing.
I didn’t need to ruin a day Lena and I had worked so hard on all because Jasper was the same brat that used to stick his tongue out at me from the top of the grand staircase. I turned away.
“Aye. Go on,” Jasper said. “Run off and find that placeholder of a wife.”
I rolled my eyes, prepared to ignore him even if I hated to let him get away with being such an ass. Luckily, someone else took up the mantle for me.
Jo stepped out of the crowd, hands on her hips. “Jasper Kincaid!” she crowed. “Why are you always the one kicking off when people just want to have a good time?”
Jasper scowled at her. “Mind your business, Josephine.”
“Oi!” She lifted a threatening finger in his direction. “I remember when your grandmother still had to wipe your snotty nose, boy. Don’t test me. Go on home if all you’re after is drama.”
“I’m not the one who flew across the world with a fake wife to take ownership of a property I didn’t deserve,” Jasper shot back, glaring at me.
“What you deserve is a swift kick in the pants, and I don’t mind giving it to you,” Jo said, waving him off. “Weston and Lena’s relationship is as real as I am. And they don’t need this kind of stress from you right now, especially with a little one on the way.”
“What?” Jasper and I both said at the same time. My eyes felt two sizes too big for my head.
“I just found her throwing up in the port-a-loo,” Jo continued.
“And I know morning sickness when I see it. So you can get right off your high horse, or better yet, you can ride that horse right out of town.” Jasper released a sharp breath, but Jo wasn’t done with him yet.
“You think you deserve Lochbrae? Think again. Pete left it to the grandson he trusted to carry his legacy on. All of Braeburn already knows we have the right Kincaids at the helm.”
A few voices from the crowd cheered and echoed her statement.
“We don’t need you,” Jo said firmly. “And that estate certainly doesn’t need you either.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jasper snarled at her.
Jo didn’t even flinch. “I know Weston and Lena are carrying on the tradition of that place exactly the way Pete would have wanted, and no one in town is going to stand for you trying to replace them. So go on. Run off and whine to your father.”
Locke snorted, a smile stretching across his face.
Jasper glowered at us all, his lips curled back, but he didn’t have any barbs left to throw—not after being so thoroughly put in his place. He turned and barreled through the crowd, shouldering people out of the way.
But I couldn’t even gloat or feel relieved at the sight of him stalking off with his tail between his legs because my thoughts were stuck on one thing. Lena was pregnant.
Bloody fucking hell.
“Oh, sweetheart, I thought I told you to sit down!” Jo said.
I turned my head and saw Lena standing among the crowd of onlookers with Tess. But instead of looking elated to have her best friend in town for the festival—which had been my intention—all the color had drained from her face.
She looked like she was going to be sick.