What Lies Between (25 page)

“I guess Gerard not having a male heir to continue the MacKinnon family name isn’t well regarded.”

“In my father’s view, the Glenbroch MacKinnons had already fallen away. I think to him the family ended when your grandmother Helen died. He feels Glenbroch will be ruined if he doesn’t watch over it.”

“The family is not over. I am a MacKinnon!” My voice sounded fierce in my ears.

A smile eased the corners of his mouth. “Yes, you most definitely are.”

Silence fell between us. I wanted to sink under its warm, soft waves. Would it hurt to disappear with him where I couldn’t see what I was doing, where the urging of my heart was the only guide?

“I better get the rest of the dishes cleared away,” Ben said, scooping them up and returning to the kitchen. A
clank
of mugs on the counter, the
click
of the kettle, and its familiar rumble as the water heated up told me he was making tea. Everyone up here was always making tea!

Forget the tea. Make a move. Show me you feel the way I do.

The wine from dinner had dulled my defenses. Instead of shoring them up, I poured myself another glass before going upstairs to the guest room. Life could be done and over in a moment. The thought made me want to curl up, a roly-poly in a shell, and not come out for days or weeks—or longer. But I didn’t want to be in a shell by myself any more.

I don’t think I ever wanted to be alone. It wasn’t like it was a plan or a preference. I had a busy life before, as I did now, and couldn’t afford to waste time being hurt. And that inevitably happened.

When Ben finished in the kitchen, he brought a hot water bottle in a plaid fuzzy cover to me in my guestroom. “You’ll need this.”

“Thanks. I loved your cullen skink, and I completely enjoyed dining at a table your mother gave you with the fire blazing nearby and the storm outside . . . and no city lights for miles.”

I looked away, knowing my eyes would reveal all that I was thinking—if Ben paid attention. When I dared glance up there was no sign that he had read my thoughts.

“I’m glad I could help make you comfortable. Goodnight, Ellie. Sleep well. I’ll be right down the hall. And I’ll lock everything up tight, don’t worry.”

He padded down the hall and then I heard the creak of his socked feet on the stairs. The whine of cabinet hinges, the clatter of dishes being stacked on shelves, the click of the lock turning on the door, the scrape of the protective grate in front of the fire—all these sounds comforted me. Someone was taking care of things, watching out. I didn’t have to, not tonight.

I nursed my glass of wine for more than an hour while reading the crime novel I’d pulled from one of the shelves, sinking into another world’s problems, forgetting about the person out there somewhere, and trying not to think about the man down the hall.

My eyes dropped as I read, lulling me into thinking I was sufficiently sleepy to make it all the way under. I flipped off the lamp but then lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling. Restlessness propelled me out of bed and to the windows looking out over the glen.

The snow had stopped and all lay still. The few visible stars sparkled bright but lonely against the cloudy winter night. I remembered what Ben had said:
ten thousand galaxies behind every grain of sand held to the sky
.

If I could only see, the sky would be teeming with light, stars too numerous to count. Limitations of space, distance, time, the storm, and my own vision conspired to stir a lonely ache at only seeing darkness between the twinkling lights. If I could see with my own eyes how many stars lived in the night sky, I was sure I wouldn’t feel so alone. Silly, maybe, but . . . 

Returning to bed, I opened the novel once again, determined to escape my thoughts. But as sleep finally took over, my last thought once again turned to Ben.

When I opened my bedroom door the next morning the smell of maple syrup greeted me. Wrapped in the man’s robe Ben had left for me, I headed downstairs to find him humming softly, dressed in jeans and a heavy sweater. He bustled about, an apron with a feminine, floral design wrapped around his waist, damp hair curving around the back of his neck, a light masculine scent of soap or shampoo mixing with the aroma of breakfast.

I stifled a chuckle, but my body had an entirely different response—his rugged good looks were even more irresistible immersed in this picture of domesticity. The entire scene made me feel cocooned from all the troubles outside but it also sent a buzz of longing through me. I focused on the pain in my knee to break the thoughts taking hold of me.

The timer on the oven sounded, and he pulled out a tray of perfectly formed scones. The scent of cinnamon wafted into the air. Now I was sure that I hadn’t survived the crash. I had driven into the loch and drowned because this was what heaven must be like, a far cry from Todd’s fizzy drink.

Never one to believe in luck of any kind, I now conceded it could only be bad luck that a man who was supposed to be my enemy cooked and baked and looked dead gorgeous in anything—kilt, apron, jeans, boxer briefs, and, I was sure, nothing. I couldn’t have been happier that city life had never appealed to him. Just a Highland laddie! Right! As if there was any
just
about it.

I fought back a burst of laughter at my dilemma. Ben didn’t have a clue how hard he made me work to keep my distance. It would be easier to remember he was my enemy if he acted more like one instead of fixing me a gorgeous breakfast. The guy had skills in the kitchen—this much couldn’t be argued.

He turned, caught sight of me. “Did you sleep well?” he asked casually, as if he had no idea what he was doing to me.

“I was comfortable.” That much was true, better than saying I’d hardly slept at all, and having him ask why. And I’d have to lie. I couldn’t say I had lain in bed thinking about going into his room, climbing into his bed, and curling up in his arms.

“Good, I think . . .” He waited, but I offered nothing more. “Are you hungry?”

“Definitely.”

He made a plate, handed it to me. “You can go through to the dining table or the wee conservatory off the back, whichever you fancy.”

I chose the conservatory. The wind had banked snow high against the house and it covered part of the windows. As soon as he’d sat down and it was reasonably polite to dig in, I devoured my veggie omelet and cinnamon scone—better my breakfast than him.

It started snowing again and we nursed cups of coffee watching the flakes swirl in the wind.

Ben broke the comfortable silence. “I know you were joking with your comment about eating decently when I’m supplying the food, but it got me thinking. You have an opportunity to host a celebration of our favourite bard, Rabbie Burns. You likely already know but most places will have a Burns Supper, and I think it should be Glenbroch’s first event—a preseason run, if you will. It would be a chance for invited guests and locals to see what’s on offer,” he said, adding, “If you’re open to the idea, I’d like to help out.”

Maggie had encouraged me to hold a Burns Supper and had offered assistance, but she would be having her own at the inn and wouldn’t be able to help much.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked.

“We could bring in some influencers in the industry—people who book sporting holidays.”

“Even if I were willing to do it, I don’t have the staff to pull it together.”

“I have some decent connections around here. I’ve only lived here nearly all my life.” He flashed a prize-winning smile. “I would like to supply the food and bring in some event staff and supervise them. The event would be a great way to kick off the New Year.”

“But we’re not ready for business yet.”

“It would only be a preview. Everything needed to host a dinner is in place, Ellie. It would be a grand time.”

I sat back in my chair, eyeing him with suspicion. “Why would you want to make sure Glenbroch gets off to a good start this year?”

He let out a long, weary sigh. “Contrary to what you think, I don’t wish failure on you or Glenbroch—
at all
. If you need me to have a selfish motive, don’t forget MacIver money is tied up in the estate. Granted, more of my father’s money than mine, and he is more concerned about controlling interest. Regardless of who ends up with it, the estate still needs to get up and running now.”

“I don’t know.”

“Think about it. Talk to Jim, Maggie, Calum, whoever you want, but there is no downside here.”

“I don’t need your help to make Glenbroch a success,” I said, my voice calm but defensive.

“You’re wrong. You do need help. Anyone would in your position, including me. I have no intention of making excuses for my father, but all he sees is a young, beautiful woman who doesn’t know the slightest thing about the Highlands or running a business like this. In his view, this will end in disaster.” Ben’s eyes narrowed with resolve. “Let’s prove my father wrong; show him that MacIvers and MacKinnons can work together.”

Beautiful?

I couldn’t be sure I’d heard anything else that he said. Beautiful was a word so rare in reference to me that his words caught me by surprise and tears sprang up in response. I’d always told myself that wanting to hear that word was weak, but it fell soft and sweet on my heart all the same. I forced the tears back where they came from.

His eyes fell on mine and the way he was looking at me threatened to sweep my footing out from under me.

It’s only a word. Keep hold of yourself.

I shoved my plate away and began stacking the dirty dishes on the table, the activity breaking the spell and summoning reality back.

“What you’re saying is all well and good, but someone cut my gate, sabotaged my computer, and canceled the electrical inspector,” I reminded him. “If not Bethanne, you and your father are the only other ones with anything to gain. Calum tells me your father hasn’t been out on his own property, let alone mine, in a long time.”

Ben’s jaw clenched with controlled deliberation as he set aside his utensils. “I can see it from your perspective, but it wasn’t me. And I can’t see my father doing those things either. He’s not handy with tools and can barely send an email. No way would he have messed with your gate or computer. As much as I hate to admit it, not everyone around here is happy to see you take charge of the estate. It could have been someone else, Ellie.”

I didn’t want to hear that. “You’re right. Your father wouldn’t bother himself to get out in the snow—he’d get someone to do his dirty work—someone like Bethanne. And if she’s involved, it’s all about you anyway.”

But what if Ben was right? “Are you saying that you think other people feel as strongly as your father about me being here? I can’t see that. Are you trying to deflect my attention from him?”

Ben rubbed his face with both palms, ran his fingers through his hair. “Och, you drive me mad. Of course I want you to believe I’m not involved or my father. He can be a bampot, but I don’t think . . .” His hands dropped heavy to his sides, and he let out a long sigh. “Truth is, I don’t know what my father would or wouldn’t do, or Bethanne. She’s unpredictable, but I can’t believe it. This is going too far. And I truly don’t think my father would get involved with what happened to you or with someone like her. My father can be vengeful, true, but he’s not completely mad.”

Ben’s eyes turned to the snowdrifts, his jaw slack, shoulders slumped, sadness darkening his face. My heart curled up tight in response, squeezing a painful knot into my throat.

He kept his eyes on the falling snow. “And yes, I think that there are some folks here who are capable of taking matters into their own hands. But if my father was involved with any of this, then he needs to answer for it.”

I remembered Ben’s pain and anger when he talked about his father on our trip to Inverness. In spite of the troubles between them, he loved his father. It would break his heart if John was involved.

My own heart ached to think of Ben facing that kind of loss. The last thing I wanted to do was to take someone’s dad away. I needed to remember that if John had anything to do with this, then he was the one taking himself away from his son.

Ben was right. It was one thing for John to want to take Glenbroch. It was another to run me off the road. Still, it was easier to hold John or Bethanne accountable. I didn’t like the idea of it being a stranger.

Ben loaded the truck with chains and a chainsaw and then came back in. “No reason for you to be out in this. I’m meeting Richie and a couple of the lads from the crew and we’re going to remove the tree and get them back to work. I’ve rung up a man I know who has a shop in Broadford. He’ll pull out the Land Rover and get it repaired.” 

He held out a set of keys. “These are for the cottage. Make yourself at home. I have a container of stovies in the fridge—a sort of Scottish leftovers. There’s mince in it; know you’re not keen on it, but it’s there if you get hungry. And keep the keys. If you ever need a safe place, you can come here. Lock the doors after I leave.” He gave me an apologetic look. “Guess you were right about that. I never thought it was necessary. Use the house phone to call me. I know this will sound ridiculous to you, but if anything happens, my dad is five minutes away.”

Taking hold of my arms, he faced me. “Everything is okay. Honestly, Ellie, I wouldn’t leave you here if I believed he was capable of hurting you.”

“I know. I believe you.”

I wasn’t convinced John didn’t have a hand in this, but I was safer on MacIver land right now than anywhere else. A dog didn’t make a mess in his own doghouse. No one would touch me here.

I cozied up in front of the fire Ben had started in the sitting room. He’d built a fire in the guest bedroom as well. He was going out of his way to be hospitable, but doubt crept in. Ben had shown up just at the right time.

Convenient, now that I think about it . . .

But also silly. I was clearly looking for reasons to keep him at arm’s length. I didn’t believe for a minute Ben would do anything to physically harm me. As much as I wanted to despise him for not telling me who he was, Ben just wasn’t the kind of person to harm me the way the person on the road had clearly wanted to.