The lawyer jumped to his feet, holding up the package. “Wait, miss. You’ll need Trevor’s instructions.”
Holly cradled the urn in one elbow and took the package with her free hand, staring. Instructions? That was a goddamn box, not a brief list of where and how to scatter his ashes. What was Trevor up to?
She glanced around. “But…but…”
“Don’t worry, my dear.” Fergus patted her arm. “Lachlan will watch over you.”
Holly spun on her heel and headed out the door. Lachlan watching over her?
That was what she dreaded most.
Chapter Three
Holly hurried down the narrow, creaky stairs, clutching the urn and the package with Trevor’s instructions. Then she burst out the front door and onto Edinburgh’s main drag.
A blue-and-white flag swept over her head, and she ducked. “Whoa.”
“Pardon, dearie. It’s all in the name of Scotland,” a man in overalls apologized.
She did a double take. The street was crowded with people blowing whistles or waving banners. Some of the banners showed Saint Andrew’s Cross, while others featured Scotland’s coat of arms — two unicorns rearing over a bed of thistles.
Oops. She’d forgotten about the rally for Scottish independence. Much as the cause appealed, she really didn’t have time right now.
She hurried down the street, darting around demonstrators, the loyalists heckling them, and tourists snapping photos of the chaotic scene.
“Holly!”
She nearly whirled at Lachlan’s voice, but she stopped herself and trotted onward. Did she really want to talk to him now? Or ever, for that matter?
No, she did not. And she certainly wasn’t going to be ordered around by him.
So off she went, heading away from Edinburgh Castle. But with the rally moving in the opposite direction, she struggled like a salmon swimming upstream. When a tiny break appeared, she wove across the street.
“Dammit, Trevor,” she cursed, though her heart wasn’t in it. Especially when a glance down a side street made her recall the bronze statue of Greyfriars Bobby, the faithful terrier that had remained at his master’s graveside for years.
She took a deep breath. She would be just as loyal to Trevor, who’d never asked anything of her until now.
Cradling the urn tightly, she headed toward St. Giles’ Cathedral with its crown-like dome. The street was so crowded, she couldn’t make out the pattern of cobblestones called the Heart of Midlothian, let alone spit at it for good luck, as local legend called for. Too bad, because if she ever needed luck, now was the time.
“Holly,” Lachlan called over the din of the crowd.
A glance over her shoulder gave her a view of her ex-lover in the Highlander equivalent of a suit — kilt, sporran, and jacket tailored to accommodate his wide shoulders. His calves bulged with muscles, as did his arms, and his eyes were the color of storm clouds.
Her dragon flared its nostrils, trying to tease his delicious scent out of the crowd.
When she caught herself, she balled her fists. She wasn’t the naïve nineteen-year-old of a decade ago. Highlanders and their kilts no longer impressed her.
Her dragon snorted. They impress me. Well, that one does.
A passerby bumped her, and she hugged the urn tighter. “Watch it.”
What would Trevor think if she accidentally scattered his ashes in downtown Edinburgh?
Then it hit her. What would Trevor think of her trotting away from Lachlan?
Holly slowed down, forcing herself to think. Fine. It was time to face Lachlan. She could handle that. She could handle anything.
Still, her shoulders tensed as he approached.
“Holly,” he murmured, stepping to her side.
She did a double take. Was his voice trembling in wonder the way it had so long ago when he’d held her, naked and sweaty in bed? Or was she imagining things?
“Lachlan,” she said, fighting to keep her voice even.
Okay, so she didn’t hate him. She was just desperate to avoid him. And as for destiny — well, even destiny made mistakes sometimes.
And yet, for the next minute, they both stood still, gazing dreamily into each other’s eyes.
Mate, her dragon hummed quietly. It’s been so long.
She inched closer, tempted to touch his cheek.
Lachlan’s lips moved, and though no sound emerged, Holly swore she could read his dragon reply. Too long, my mate.
He shuffled closer, as if he might reach out and pull her into an embrace. Or was that wishful thinking too?
“Good to see you,” he whispered at last.
“You too.” She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. The man was so damn confusing.
The man, maybe. The dragon knows what it wants, her inner beast said.
The swirl in the depths of his smoky eyes was proof. But what good was that if his human side was determined to resist?
The glitter in his eyes grew brighter, hinting at love, hope, and unbearable longing. But then he clenched his jaw, as if succumbing to burning attraction somehow held terrible consequences for the whole world, and he absolutely, positively had to resist.
Well, fine. She was over him anyway. Wasn’t she?
Straightening her shoulders, she set off down the street yet again.
“Where are you going?” Lachlan jumped into step beside her.
She tapped the urn. “To Gleninnis and Creag Aerden. Didn’t you hear?”
Lachlan looked around. “Right now?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, not sure what to say. Okay, so she didn’t exactly have a plan. In truth, she never operated according to a plan. But, hey. She’d only just learned of Trevor’s last wishes. She couldn’t be expected to have everything worked out so quickly, could she?
Of course, Lachlan probably had the entire journey mapped out in his head nanoseconds after learning of their assignment.
“I was just working out the details,” she lied.
The crowd thinned slightly, allowing her to walk past souvenir shops showcasing cheap kilts, wool sweaters, and little stuffed animals — unicorns and shaggy Highland cattle. There were calendars too: Hot Highlanders. She snorted. Who needed a calendar when she had the real thing beside her? And as for guessing what was under the kilt, she didn’t need to use her imagination. Not when it came to Lachlan, at least.
Mm-hm. Her dragon swiped its tail at the sweet, sultry memories. Not just memories of great sex but of how he’d held her afterward. Tightly. Lovingly. Joyously, even, as if he hadn’t experienced true happiness until then.
Not that she had much to compare the experience to. She’d slept with exactly two guys before Lachlan, and none since. But dammit, maybe she should have. Surely one of the many cute cowboys who’d come on to her over the past ten years would have left her with steamy memories to overwrite Lachlan’s.
Her dragon snorted. As if. Besides, none of them is our mate. Lachlan is.
She clenched her jaw. Maybe she was destined to be like her mom, whose first great love hadn’t worked out, but who’d still ended up with a wonderful man. The right man the second time around. Maybe Holly just needed to give herself more time.
We can wait a lifetime, and it will still be Lachlan, her dragon grumbled.
“And right now — where are you going?” he asked, rolling his Rs in that thick brogue she loved.