They were opposites, so how could he ever make her happy? Worse, he had been poised to leave for the military when they’d met — the grittiest, most secretive force in the world, the French Foreign Legion. Why should a footloose, free-spirited girl like Holly wait for him when she could get on with her own life? Why make her suffer if he were killed in action? And even if they had made it through all that, he had years of service to the Guardians of Scotland planned, and that had to be his priority.
There were no two ways about it. Holly was better off without him.
No one is better off without their mate, his dragon growled. Not us, not her.
“Now, how does this work?” Holly murmured, tugging on the roof.
He jumped up. “Wait. You release this, then press that…”
Within minutes, they had the convertible’s top down, and Holly beamed. “Awesome.”
Lachlan stopped, looked, and nearly buried his face in his hands. It was not awesome. It was impractical. Worse, Holly had just done it again — gotten him so sidetracked in her whirlwind of action that he’d lost sight of the big picture.
He shook his head. “The sun might be shining now, but the clouds are sure to set in soon.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so negative. Look at Mungo. He loves it.”
Mungo wagged his tail. Clearly, the dog was as captivated by Holly as Lachlan had once been. A lesson to all men not to lose their heads over love.
“If the weather changes, we’ll just put the top up again,” she went on. “Easy.”
Nothing in life was that easy. Didn’t she know that?
“Besides, we have to see Trevor off in style.” Holly took a seat again and patted the urn.
He could already picture it — one bump in the road, and Trevor’s ashes would scatter all over Scotland.
Holly laughed, reading his mind. “Nope. I duct-taped it. See?”
He stared. Duct tape?
Holly patted it proudly. “Nothing can go wrong now.”
Lachlan ran his hands through his hair, trying not to clutch too hard.
“Now, let’s see. First stop…”
“Gleninnis.” He pointed to the GPS, already programmed with way points and time estimates for the trip to the west coast.
“Nope,” Holly chirped, pulling a letter from the box the solicitor had given her. “First stop, Burgess.” She held out the paper just long enough for Lachlan to see a blur that resembled Trevor’s scrawl. “See? First stop. They’re all numbered.”
“What do you mean, all?”
She lifted the lid of the box. “Trevor’s instructions.”
Lachlan’s jaw dropped. There was a whole swath of letters in there. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.” As happy as a child on a scavenger hunt, she began counting the letters. “One, two, three…four…five…”
Lachlan dropped his head to the steering wheel, muttering, “Trevor, how could you do this to me?”
“Pardon?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
She leaned in closer, enveloping him in the heavenly scent of rye fields and wild flowers. “Are you okay? I could drive if you’re not feeling well.”
He snapped upright. “I’m fine.”
“Really fine?”
“Grand.” He turned the key, gunning the engine to life. The sooner he started this misadventure, the sooner it would be over.
Finally, time to devote to my mate, his dragon rumbled, not quite getting the point.
He looked right, left, leaning wide to see past Mungo, then pulled out onto the street.
“You brought your dog all the way from the States?” The question came out in a grumble, and he cursed himself.
“Boy, you really have been away for a long time. You don’t know Mungo?” Her tone was sad, not accusing. “He’s Trevor’s dog.”
The car went silent before he came up with a very lame, “Oh.”
Of course Mungo was Trevor’s. The man had kept deerhounds for as long as Lachlan could remember, way back to when he was a little boy.
“Poor Mungo,” Holly lamented. “See how sad he looks? How thin?”
“All deerhounds are thin. It’s genetic.”
“Are you kidding? Look. He’s really sad.”
Lord, she was just the way he remembered. So expressive. So heartfelt. So everything is on the line, even when it was just one little thing.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he tried.
Holly hugged Mungo as if to reassure him, then shot Lachlan a look. “For a guy who knows so much, you don’t know much, do you?”
Lachlan gripped the steering wheel harder, holding back the first words to come to mind. This is what you do to me — and why I need to steer clear of you.
All his life, he’d been able to pick apart the most complex problems given only a few clues. But around Holly…
They wound through the streets of Edinburgh, then joined the motorway. Soon, they were zipping past green countryside where the sun chased away the last strands of morning mist. He inhaled deeply. The Highlands were hours away, but he could already breathe more freely. If it weren’t for Mungo panting, he might even have enjoyed the ride.
You really have been away for a long time. Holly’s words haunted him, along with the unspoken part. What else have you missed? And, Are you even the same man I once knew?
He had been gone a long time. Too long? He glanced in the rearview mirror, surprised by the harsh expression of the man in the reflection. Had he changed that much?
Yes, his dragon sighed. And no.
Lachlan frowned. What the hell did that mean?
Holly’s hair whipped in the wind, a wildly tempting distraction. What he would do to run his hands over her S-shaped locks once more. To gaze into her eyes. To lean closer and—
He jerked his attention back to the road.
Holly opened the glove box, pulled out a map, and unfolded it. “Where’s Burgess?”
Lachlan stared. He had a state-of-the-art, up-to-date navigation unit. Why did she bother with that old map?
Because there’s a joy in paper, he remembered Trevor once saying. A sense of mystery in the journey.
He sighed and tapped on the map. As soon as he did, Holly held it up for Mungo.
“See, sweetie?” The map flapped in the wind, but that didn’t seem to bother Holly. “We’re here, and we’re going here. You’re going home. Home, Mungo!”
The dog stuck his nose in the map then snuffled in Holly’s ear, making her giggle. The sound made something move inside Lachlan. Something old and grinding, like a millstone that hadn’t budged in decades.
Home. The word echoed through his mind.
He rolled his shoulders. Home was Murburne Manor, the dull, sprawling, fifty-room mansion he’d grown up in. Simple.
Yet the word continued to echo in his mind, searching for a better answer. Home…
He tapped his fingers on the wheel. The question hadn’t bothered him over the past ten years while he shuttled from one military post to another. It hadn’t bothered him over the past few weeks — his first back in Scotland. Yet now, a yearning set into him, and his heart longed to find that place.
That person, his dragon corrected him.
Holly spoke, breaking the silence. “How long is the drive?”