Chapter 15
Clementine
Inside McGregor’s clan and Other Diplomatic Traps
Cameron leads me into the great drawing room as if we’ve done this a thousand times before.
Except we haven’t done anything a thousand times together.
Last night, we held hands for exactly eighty-seven seconds before it became too awkward.
We laughed like idiots while trying to speak like Victorian ghosts.
And now we’re apparently supposed to convince his entire family that we’re... what, exactly?
A couple.
My heart beats a little faster and my breath catches in my throat.
Me, in a relationship with Cameron?
That’s absurd.
The room is full.
Mary, the veterinarian, stands near the fireplace with a drink in her hand and a warm smile on her face.
I assume the man beside her is Finn, the doctor.
He watches us with the polite curiosity of someone who’s already heard about you but is waiting to see whether you’re actually as interesting as the rumors suggest.
Connor—Cameron’s twin, impossible to confuse with him now that I’ve seen them standing side by side—is looking at us with an absolutely devilish smirk.
And Maggie, seated in her armchair like a queen upon her throne, watches us the way a general inspects troops before battle.
A couple I don’t recognize stands near the window.
The woman, with auburn hair and a warm smile, gently rocks a baby in her arms.
The man beside her, tall, dark-haired, and somewhere in his thirties, studies us with interest.
Another younger couple is chatting with them.
I recognize Keira, Cameron’s cousin, laughing at something the man has just said.
And then there’s a butler.
An actual butler.
Silver tray and everything.
He stands by the door with such perfect posture that he looks as though he swallowed a broomstick.
“Good evening,” Cameron says with a calmness that feels superhuman.
His hand squeezes mine more firmly than necessary.
He’s nervous.
Cameron McGregor—the man who turns disasters into marketing concepts—is nervous.
We’re doomed.
Maggie rises with a grace that defies her age.
“Clementine! What a delight that you were able to come despite the last-minute change.”
Last-minute change.
That’s what she calls what she did?
Cameron had called me earlier this afternoon to inform me that Maggie had moved Saturday’s dinner to tonight.
Friday.
Giving me exactly three hours’ notice.
We had no time for anything.
No rehearsal.
No coordinating stories.
No deciding how two people supposedly possessed by romantic ghosts are meant to behave in front of a room full of McGregors watching us like the newest Friday-night television show.
“Thank you for inviting me,” I manage to say.
I smile.
At least, I think I do.
My face performs something that is presumably a smile but could just as easily be an expression of pure panic.
“Come in!” Maggie continues, approaching us. “Let me introduce you to everyone.”
Cameron releases my hand to help me remove my coat.
The butler instantly materializes beside us and takes our outerwear with an efficiency that’s mildly intimidating.
“This is Jamison, our butler,” Cameron murmurs.
Jamison inclines his head with impressive dignity.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” I say quietly.
“The pleasure is entirely mine, Miss Fraser.”
He disappears with our coats like a particularly well-mannered ghost.
Maggie takes my arm as though we’re lifelong friends and steers me toward the rest of the gathering.
“You already know Mary, of course.”
Mary steps forward with a genuine smile.
“It’s good to see you again, Clementine. How’s the manor?”
“Good. Well, as good as a manor abandoned for years can be.”
She laughs.
“I heard Hamish refuses to leave you alone.”
“Hamish is currently squatting in my kitchen.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” she sighs. “That sheep has absolutely no respect for boundaries.”
The man beside her, tall, dark-haired, and composed, offers his hand.
“Finn McLeod. Village doctor. If you ever need anything...”
“Thank you. Hopefully I won’t have to trouble you.”
“No one ever troubles a doctor,” he replies with a small smile. “It’s in the job description.”
Maggie continues her introductions like a conductor leading an orchestra.
“And these are Callum and Jane. They’ve just returned from traveling.”
The couple near the window steps closer.
Callum’s features carry a faint resemblance to the rest of the McGregor clan.
He grins broadly.
“The famous Clementine Fraser! Ewan has told us a lot about you.”
Ewan talked about me?
“In a positive way, I hope.”
“He mostly said you’re stubborn and that Maggie would love that,” Jane says with a wink.
“Jane!” Maggie exclaims, though she’s smiling.
The baby in Jane’s arms chooses that moment to let out an adorable little coo.
I can’t help smiling.
“And this is Charlie,” Jane says proudly. “Our little miracle. He turned eight months old today.”
Charlie stares at me with enormous innocent blue eyes that have absolutely no idea what kind of chaos his grandmother has thrown me into.
“He’s beautiful,” I say sincerely.
“Would you like to hold him?” Jane offers.
“Oh, I... I wouldn’t want to—”
“Of course she wants to!” a voice calls from the sofa.
I turn.
An elegant woman in her sixties with perfectly styled hair smiles warmly at me.
“Isobel McGregor,” she introduces herself. “Callum and Keira’s mother. Don’t worry, Charlie loves meeting new people.”
Before I can protest, Jane deposits Charlie into my arms.
The baby studies me.
Blinks twice.
Then apparently decides I’m acceptable because he immediately snuggles against me with a tiny satisfied sigh.
My heart melts.
“Traitor,” Callum mutters. “He cried through the entire flight home and now he’s acting like an angel.”
“That’s because Clementine has a calming presence,” a female voice declares.
I look up.
Keira approaches with a dark-haired man who appears to be around thirty-five.
“Hi, Clementine. This is my husband, Alistair. We run the village distillery.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Cameron told us you inherited Fraser Manor,” Keira continues. “That must be... quite an adventure.”
Her tone suggests she knows exactly how much of an “adventure” it really is.
Meaning a complete disaster.
“You could say that,” I admit.
“If you ever need a drink after dealing with village gossip, stop by the distillery,” Alistair offers with a conspiratorial smile. “First whisky is free for any haunted-manor heiress.”
Despite myself, I laugh.
“I may take you up on that.”
Maggie claps her hands, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Now that introductions are finished, let’s have dinner! Mrs. Finley has prepared a wonderful meal.”
Cameron reappears beside me and reaches for Charlie.
“I’ll take him.”
I hand over the baby with relief.
Charlie immediately grabs one of Cameron’s fingers and coos happily.
“Well, look at you. You’ve gotten stronger.”
“He likes you,” Connor remarks as he strolls past. “That’s unusual. Babies normally cry when they see your face.”
“Go to hell, Connor,” Cameron replies.
“Boys,” Maggie interrupts in a gentle but firm voice. “Not in front of Charlie.”
Connor raises both hands in surrender and heads toward the dining room.
Cameron looks at me, Charlie still hanging onto his finger.
“Sorry. My family is...”
“Normal?” I suggest. “Warm? Absolutely terrifying in their normality?”
He smiles.
“I was going to say invasive, but your version works too.”
Charlie squirms and lets out another happy sound.
Cameron grimaces.
“Well. Shall we?”
“Do we really have a choice?”
“Not really.”
We follow the rest of the family into the dining room.
A massive room.
A table large enough for twenty people.
Candlesticks.
Family portraits lining the walls.
And Jamison standing near the sideboard like a living statue.
Maggie guides us to our seats.
Naturally, Cameron and I are placed side by side.
Right in the center of the table.
Where everyone can observe us effortlessly.
After handing Charlie back to Jane, Cameron pulls out my chair.
I sit.
He settles beside me.
Under the table, his leg brushes mine.
I instantly tense.
So does he.
We never even discussed the acceptable level of physical proximity for a fake couple supposedly possessed by romantic ghosts.
Maggie takes the head of the table.
Callum sits on her right with Jane and Charlie.
Isobel settles on her left.
Connor slides into the seat directly across from us wearing a smile that promises trouble.
Mary and Finn sit beside him.
Keira and Alistair complete the other side of the table.
I am surrounded by McGregors.
It feels like sitting in a cage full of extremely polite lions waiting for the perfect moment to devour me alive.
Jamison appears carrying a tureen.
He serves everyone with surgical precision.
“So, Clementine,” Callum begins once everyone has been served, “Cameron told us the manor was in an... interesting condition.”
“Interesting is a generous description,” I reply. “I’d go with decrepit but structurally sound.”
“Are you planning to keep it?” Keira asks.
She studies me with innocent curiosity.
“I... I’m not sure yet. It’s complicated.”
“Because of the rumors?” Jane asks sweetly.
Silence falls over the table.
Everyone looks at us.
Even Charlie stops cooing.
And there it is.
The moment.
Cameron clears his throat.
“The rumors are... exaggerated.”
“Really?” Connor asks with a predatory smile. “Because Moira MacTavish has been telling everyone that the two of you have been acting strangely lately.”
“Connor,” Maggie says lightly. “Leave them alone.”
But her eyes sparkle.
She wants an answer.
She wants to see what we’ll say.
Cameron shoots me a look that clearly says:
Are we improvising?
I answer with one that says:
Do we have any other choice?
“The manor has a history,” I begin carefully. “And people love stories. It’s only natural that rumors develop.”
“What kind of history?” Mary asks curiously.
“Brodie and Mairenn Fraser,” Cameron answers before I can. “The couple who built the manor. They lived there for years. Alone. Happy.”
“And now they haunt it?” Finn asks skeptically.
“That’s what the village believes,” I clarify. “We simply think there are a lot of drafts and one sheep who keeps inviting himself inside.”