Mac glanced at his colleague. “Jock, why don’t you take the vehicle back to the mews and return to your duties.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Shall we?” Mac said to me, gesturing to the castle entrance.
“Isn’t there a servants’ entrance that would be more suited to my position?”
“There’s a delivery entrance, but we’re usually prepared for those packages.” He shot me a sardonic look and walked toward the castle.
“What about my car?”
“It’s fine there. We’ll move it later if we need to.”
I studied the back of Mac’s head as he strode in front of me. My father had to be around six feet four and was physically fit. He made an intimidating figure. At forty-four, he had the physique of a man half his age. He looked great. Ruggedly handsome. Successful. He didn’t look old enough to be my father. But for a kid who got his older girlfriend pregnant when he was only sixteen, he’d done okay for himself.
But I guess a person could when they went out into the world to succeed by sacrificing their relationship with their child.
So lost in my thoughts, it took a second for my surroundings to hit me.
Holy shit.
I stopped just inside the door and gaped.
Yeah, I definitely felt like a fish out of water.
“Wakefield, this is my daughter Robyn.” Mac stopped next to the guy in uniform. “Robyn, this is Wakefield, the butler at Ardnoch.”
A butler. Of course. “Nice to meet you.”
The butler bowed his head, expression stoic. “Welcome to Ardnoch Estate, miss.”
I nodded vaguely, my attention returning to the space beyond us as we stepped inside.
“Impressive, aye?” Mac said, grinning at my expression.
It was mammoth.
Polished parquet flooring underfoot made it appear even more so. The décor was traditional and screamed Scottish opulence. The grandest staircase I’d ever seen descended before me, fitted with a red-and-gray tartan wool runner. It led to a landing where three floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows spilled light down it. Then it branched off at either side, twin staircases leading to the floor above, which I could partially see from the galleried balconies at either end of the reception hall. A fire burned in the huge hearth on the wall adjacent to the entrance and opposite the staircase. The smell of burning wood accentuated the coziness the interior designer had managed to pull off despite the dark, wood-paneled walls and ceiling. Tiffany lamps scattered throughout on end tables gave the space a warm glow.
Opposite the fire sat two matching suede-and-fabric buttoned sofas with a coffee table in between. More light spilled into the hall from large openings that led to other rooms on this floor. I could hear the rise and fall of conversation in the distance beyond.
In one of those doorways appeared a man as tall as my father. He paused at the sight of us and then made his way across the humongous reception hall.
As he drew closer, I recognized him.
Millions of people across the world knew this guy’s face.
Wearing a fitted, black cashmere sweater that caressed his muscular physique and black dress pants, the man wore casual chic beautifully. He had the body and swagger that fashion magazines loved in their Hollywood actors.
And that’s what he’d once been.
An A-list Hollywood actor.
Lachlan Adair.
Normal women would swoon at his dark blond handsomeness, his lovely blue eyes and brooding mouth, the short, almost dark brown beard. While obviously good-looking, there was a rough edge to his masculine beauty that made his face substantially more appealing. And he was well known for the wicked twinkle in his eyes. From what I could tell, he hadn’t been a bad actor either, although typecast in mostly action movies.
I didn’t swoon as he approached.
I was nervous, but not because his charisma and fame intimidated me.
Beneath my calm facade, I held a deep reserve of resentment toward this guy. It wasn’t his fault. Not really. But this was the man my father abandoned me in favor of.
When Lachlan Adair broke out in Hollywood at twenty-one with a huge action blockbuster, he hired my father as part of his private security. Perhaps it was that they were both Scots that drew them together. I wouldn’t know. I only knew they became close. So close, Mac went everywhere Lachlan did, even if that meant missing out on my teen years. My birthdays. Graduation. And then they moved back to Scotland when Lachlan retired to turn a family-owned estate into this exclusive, members-only resort.
Mac was head of security and lived in the village.
“I heard you had a visitor,” Lachlan said. His attention moved beyond us and he addressed the butler. “Wakefield, there seems to be a problem with a guest in the Duchess’s Suite. Would you mind assisting?”
The butler strode past us. “Right away, sir.” He disappeared up the grand staircase, moving with efficient speed without looking like he was in a hurry.
Adair focused his stony gaze on me even as he addressed my father. “Mac, it seems an introduction is in order.”
“Lachlan, this is my daughter, Robyn. Robyn, this is Lachlan Adair.”
Neither of us reached for the other’s hand. Awkward tension fell between us.
I didn’t know what his problem with me was.
I wasn’t the one who’d stolen his father.
“I know who he is,” I said, unimpressed.
Lachlan’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “I’ve heard a lot about you. It seems strange to have been in Mac’s life for almost twenty years and never have met his daughter.”
“Yeah, that tends to happen when a father abandons his kid to follow an actor around the world.” I didn’t dare look at my father. Despite my complicated feelings, I hadn’t come here to attack him. There was a small part of me that understood why Mac hadn’t been around.
“Excuse me?” Adair’s tone had a dangerous quietness to it.
I ignored him and turned to my father. “Can we have some privacy?”
“Of course,” Adair answered. “Forgive me for intruding.” He gave Mac a look of concern. “Just wanted to make sure everything was okay here?”
Mac nodded, his expression guarded. “If you would prefer us to go off the estate, we can.”
“Don’t be daft.” Adair took a step back. “Give Ms. Penhaligon a tour.”
Did he just emphasize my surname?
For a moment, Mac pressed his lips together in a tight line and seemed to give Adair a warning glance. The lord of the castle lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender and without looking at me, turned on his heel and walked away.
Overall, he’d been as rude to me as I was to him.
But I had an excuse for my rudeness, even if it was unfair to blame him for my father’s actions.
What had I ever done to Lachlan Adair?
2
Robyn
Minutes later, I found myself in a room tucked away at the back of the first floor—Mac’s office. It had been decorated much simpler than what I’d seen of the castle so far.
A shallow window behind his desk offered a barely there glimpse of the estate grounds. Dark and gray, the room was saved from grimness by the multitude of lamps, comfortable antique furnishings, and the surprising collection of books on the shelves.