by Cali MacKay
***
With Rowan’s loose curls flaming around her face as she slept and the memories of their night together fresh on his mind, Angus had been loath to leave come morning. He’d much rather stay in bed with her tucked by his side so he could take his time waking her in a most thorough manner. Instead he was hours away, getting ready to confront someone about their lies, and grill them on a decades-old event no one wanted to speak of.
“Mr. Macleod?” Imogen looked around for Rowan, and then stepped back. “Come in.”
“Please, Angus is fine. I’m sorry to bother ye yet again, but I really need to speak to ye.” Angus followed her into the sitting room and took a seat across from her so he could make sure to catch any signs that she may be lying. “It’s about Rowan’s father. Ye must pardon me for saying so, but I believe ye were less than honest with us the other day. I’d like to know why.”
She cocked her head back and her eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon.”
“I’ll admit, I’m a horrible liar myself. But I think it’s the reason why I’m so good at catching others at it. And truth is, I’m not here to necessarily find Rowan’s father, but what I do need to know is why Rowan’s mother refused to tell her-even on her deathbed-who her father is.”
“And how am I supposed to know? I think you should go.” She got to her feet, but he just sat back, stretched out his legs, and locked his eyes with hers.
“Tell me why no one will speak of the man-why no one has a name.” Angus saw her eyes flick to the corner, and he knew there was more to it. “So ye do know. Ye know who he is.”
“Get out!” Her cheeks turned a mottled red, her jaw clenched.
Angus stood and squared off with her. “Who is he?” He glanced in the direction her gaze had strayed, but couldn’t linger long enough to investigate the fireplace mantel with its candles, pictures and porcelain figures. “Tell me. Please. She won’t let it rest until she knows who he is.”
“Get out, or I’m calling the police.” Imogen pointed to the door, her hand shaking.
“Aye, I’m going. But if ye think she’s going to stop looking, ye’re mistaken. I’m begging ye to reconsider. She deserves to know.” Angus headed for the door. “Ye’ve got our number should ye change yer mind.”
Angus left, now sure the woman knew more than she was saying. He pounded the steering wheel. What the hell was everyone hiding? What were they scared of?
He needed more information, and he hated to admit it, but there was only one person he knew who might be able to help. Conall.
It was amazing what one was willing to do for love-and he was hopelessly and truly head over heels. He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself when they had barely been dating, but after last night, there was no denying how he felt about Rowan. He loved her-and he’d do whatever it took to see her happy and whole.
He spent the long drive back to Dunmuir and Conall’s place mulling over the growing mystery. He knew his mother didn’t have any other information. She wouldn’t hold back, trusting him enough to deal with the information accordingly. However, Imogen didn’t know him and clearly didn’t trust him, but he thought there was more to it than trying to protect Rowan. He just needed to figure out what.
Conall answered the door while attempting to wrangle his pup, his eyes going wide when he saw who his visitor was. “Angus. What’s happened?”
“Can I come in?” Angus was itching to get started, but knew it’d be easy to put Conall in a mood. “I need yer help.”
Conall nodded and stepped to the side, finally letting the dog loose once the door was closed. He headed for the sitting room, leaving Angus to follow. “Is it Rowan?”
“In a way. I need ye to dig up all ye can on Imogen Murray-beyond the basic information ye gave Rowan.”
“Her mother’s roommate? Seems like ye’re all going to an awful lot of trouble.” Conall grabbed his laptop, his fingers a blur as they tapped out their random melody. “Did ye not find her at the address I gave ye?”
“We did, but she’s lying to us about something and I need to know what.” Angus absentmindedly petted the pup.
“Ye know, if ye tell me what this is really about, there’ll be a better chance I’ll be able to help ye.” Conall gave his head a shake, only looking up for a moment.
Angus let out a sigh, knowing Conall was right and dreading the indelicate matter, given who Conall’s da was. “Rowan’s looking for her father. She doesn’t have any information on the man and was hoping the roommate might help.”
Conall sat back, his eyes locked on Angus. “I’d have appreciated knowing that from the start, aye?”
“I know.” Angus held Conall’s gaze. “Will ye still help?”
He said nothing for a bit, his gaze hard, but then turned back to his laptop. “Ye’re lucky I like her-and before ye go getting yer knickers in a twist, I know ye’ve made yer claim. I’m not like that and that’s not the way I meant it.”
“Well I appreciate yer honesty-and yer help.” Angus sat back, the knots in his shoulders cramping despite the relief that washed over him.
“Let’s see what we can find-though ye know we should be speaking to my Da.”
“I didn’t want to go digging at old wounds.” Angus tried not to think of what he’d do if he found out who Rowan’s father was. He supposed it depended on who the man was. Yet the thought of keeping it from her, no matter what the reason, had him breaking out in a cold sweat. She’d never forgive him if she found out. “Do ye think he might know?”
Conall shrugged. “Might as well find out.” He closed his laptop and stood. “Are ye coming then?”
“Damn right, I am.”
Conall called ahead to let him know they were coming, and the tea was already made and set out by the time they got there. Angus shook Gordon Stuart’s hand. “Thank ye for taking the time to see me.”
“Sit, lad.” Gordon folded his tall frame into the chair. “What can I help ye with?”
Angus looked to Conall, knowing it’d be best for him to start the conversation. “Da, ye need not discuss any of it if ye don’t want to.”
“Is it about Iona’s lass? The folks in town mentioned she’d moved into the cottage.”
“Aye, Da. She’s looking for her father and has had little luck.”
The older man nodded. “Doesn’t surprise me. Iona refused to speak of the incident.” He let out a weary sigh with a slow shake of his head, emotion tightening his voice. “And don’t judge Iona-or her daughter-for what happened back then. I knew it wasn’t meant to be-a lass like Iona wasn’t meant for a simple life in a small town.”
“Sir…” Angus hated digging at old wounds, especially when it was clear it still affected the man. He could only imagine how he’d feel if Rowan left him for another, especially if they were engaged to be married and she was carrying another’s child. “Did Iona say anything about the man? Anything at all?”
Gordon let out a deep breath and sat back in his seat. “Aye, she did. I insisted on knowing, and given our situation, she had a hard time denying me. Not that she told me his name.”
Angus went from hopeful to disappointed in a heartbeat. “What did she tell ye?”
“She told me she loved him and he was a good man. That was something at least-that her betrayal was for love.” He motioned to Conall, his movements slow and weary. “Get us a drink, son. Tea’s not quite strong enough for this sort of conversation.”
Conall did as he was bid, while his father continued. “Iona said that she and the child would be well taken care of, but she’d have to leave Scotland and wouldn’t return. When I asked her why, she told me that the father of the child didn’t know she was pregnant, and she couldn’t let him find out.”
Angus sat forward in his chair. “So he doesn’t know about Rowan?” Maybe the man wasn’t a bastard after all.
Gordon shrugged. “I couldn’t tell ye, lad. But at the time, I don’t believe he did. I will tell ye that she was scared-though if the father didn�
�t know of the child, then I’m not sure who had her so frightened.”
“Was she just upset or truly frightened?” Angus had to know. It would be the difference between being able to tell Rowan of her father or having to keep it a secret.
“Scared like I’d never seen her before-and Iona Campbell wasn’t one for theatrics or hysterics. She knew leaving like she had would all but do her father in-and it did-yet she still went.”
“And Iona didn’t say who had her so scared or why?” Bloody hell. Angus didn’t know what he was going to do.
“If the lad didn’t know he was to be a father, then I can only imagine it was someone close to him. But she refused to say, worried that she might cause me trouble.” Gordon gave his head a slow shake. “I loved the lass-and she was a good person, no matter what ye’ll hear others saying. I forgave her long ago and even told her I’d raise the child as my own, but she said she had to leave. Left me heartbroken, I’m afraid.”
With his head spinning, Angus thanked Gordon for his time, before heading back to Conall’s home. Conall said little during their drive, but his mood had darkened considerably and Angus wondered if he’d still be willing to help find Rowan’s father and dig deeper on Imogen.
“I truly appreciate ye taking me to see yer father, Conall. I know it was hard for him.”
“What ye don’t know is that my father’s ne’er been truly happy. My mother was no more than a distraction from his broken heart and though he loved her in his own way, it wasn’t enough-and my mother knew it.”
Angus knew Conall’s parents had divorced when they were still in secondary school. “I can’t imagine it, and it’s all the more reason I sincerely mean my thanks. I know we’ve not always gotten along in the past, but I appreciate ye putting our past behind us to help.”
Angus let out a sigh. “Let’s see what we can do to help the lass, aye? There’s no point in having more tragedy come out of this mess.”
They sat down in the living room with the laptop, and it didn’t take long for Conall to start pulling up information on Imogen. The printer was spitting out pages so fast they were spilling out onto the floor. Conall didn’t even look up, but Angus started to gather and reorder the pages.
He looked at several of the pictures. Pictures of Imogen with her husband and children. Another of her and her father at an HEA meeting and yet another of the HEA board of trustees. Angus took a closer look, and recognized the man who had plowed into Rowan the first time they were at Imogen’s. Imogen’s father also looked familiar.
He turned his attention to the pages of text. Most were about business acquisitions and mergers. Some rumors of new products or speculations about drilling. Rumors of the old man’s failing health and more speculation as to what would become of the business. Looked like the son was set to take over.
“Can we dig further back into the past? I don’t know that current news will hold many clues as to what happened over twenty-five years ago.”
“I’m working on it, but there’s not a whole lot online from that time period. Mostly business and real estate transactions, births, deaths and marriages.” More paper shot out from the printer.
Angus sighed and ran a rough hand down his face. “I just don’t know. Maybe I was mistaken about Imogen. And even if she was lying, who’s to say it was about Rowan’s father?”
Conall shrugged as he continued to type, not bothering to look up. “What does yer gut tell ye? In my experience, it’s seldom wrong.”
“It tells me that she’s lying about not having any information about Rowan’s father.” He flipped through the pages again, his mind churning but coming up empty. His gaze landed on the photo of the company heads, which could easily pass as a family photo. “Do me a favor. Search for problems involving Imogen and this bloke here-looks like he’s her brother. When we went to visit her the first time around, he was there and they were having a row. Nearly knocked Rowan down the stairs in his anger.”
“Well, ye know the old man’s in ill health. According to this list, they are indeed siblings. His name’s Rory Murray. Could be that with the patriarch no longer able to head up the company, there might be some in-fighting on who’ll be taking over.” More tapping on the keys. “Aye. Looks like the son wants out. Wasn’t ever really much of a businessman, but looks like he married into another powerful business family. Guess there was no chance of escape, though they’ve divorced since then. Also looks like Imogen has been there as her father’s assistant.”
“Still doesn’t tell us what she was lying about.” Angus replayed the short conversations he’d had with the woman and turned up empty.
“I’ll keep digging, aye? But now I’m going to kick ye out. I’ve got work to do.”
Chapter Thirteen
Rowan ignored the stares and whispers, a smile on her lips, as she grabbed a bit of yogurt and fruit at the grocers for a late lunch. After the night she had in Angus’s arms, she didn’t give a damn what they said. Nothing could ruin her good mood.
“Thank you.” She got her change from the woman behind the counter, giving her a big smile and refusing to play their games. This would be her home, and she’d do her best to win them over-if not for her sake, then for Angus. She wouldn’t allow it to become an uncomfortable place for him.
“Hmph.” A scowl of pursed lips faced her as her groceries got bagged none too gently. “Is Angus not with ye today? Surprised he managed to get free of ye.”
She bit back all of the smartass responses bubbling to her lips. He’s actually tied to my bed. Or maybe… That’s because he’s so exhausted after the night we had, that he’s lying in bed in a spent heap. Instead, she refused to rise to the bait. “He’s working, but I’ll be sure to send him your regards. Have a lovely day.”
Ignoring the tightness in her chest, she told herself it would take time-but it would happen. She’d win them over one by one. And then maybe the feeling of constantly being watched would go away. She glanced around but didn’t see anyone paying her any outward attention, even if it still felt like her every move was being scrutinized.
She wandered back towards her gallery to finish painting. Her good mood had spurred her on during the morning, and she’d gotten plenty done. The electrician would still need to come, but she hoped to have the place open in just a few weeks’ time.
Just a bit more to do before heading home, though she swore Angus said he’d be swinging by. Pulling out her cellphone, she checked the time and to see if she’d missed any calls or messages. It was after four, and no one had tried contacting her.
Unlocking the door, she stepped through, and found an envelope that had been pushed through the mail slot. There was nothing written on the envelope, but once she’d unfolded the paper within, she knew the letter was for her.
The pounding of her heart echoed in her ears as anger bubbled up in her chest. Taking a deep breath, she held onto it until her lungs burned and then calmly slipped the nasty note back in its envelope before tossing it in her handbag. She picked up the paint brush and popped the lid on the can of paint, but her focus was shattered and her attempt at work was futile. Even her appetite had vanished.
Knowing she wouldn’t get anything more done, she grabbed her few groceries and locked up. More paranoid now that she’d been threatened, she kept a sharp eye on her surroundings and headed to the safety of her car. Once there, she quickly texted Angus to let him know she was no longer at the gallery and was heading home.
She thought about swinging by his house, but if he was still busy with patients, she wouldn’t feel comfortable letting herself in and waiting without him there. The stares and whispers were one thing, but this pushed the matter to a whole new level. Now that she’d taken the leap with Angus, she found herself desperately wanting him to hold her and tell her things would be fine.
So, where the hell was he? Up at seven that morning, it’s not like she’d slept in. Yet Angus was already gone by the time she awoke, a pot of coffee made. He’d left her a note saying
to make herself at home and he’d catch up with her at the gallery later in the day. But the day had come and gone and there was still no sign of him.
Once she’d decided she wanted a serious relationship with Angus, she could have sworn he would be the one guy who wouldn’t make her second guess herself-or second guess her decision to sleep with him.
Whenever she’d given in to a night of passion, it seemed she could never quite escape the niggling thought that she’d made a mistake once she was looking at things in the light of day. She’d have bet the house that Angus wouldn’t have her doubting herself, and yet… here she was now wondering if he was going to show up or call.
She debated dinner once she got home, but it only made her think of Angus, and whether she should plan something for the two of them, or eat on her own. As if picking up on the annoyed girlfriend vibe she was sending into the universe-since she supposed that was what she now was-her phone rang.
Angus apologized and said he’d be by in a few minutes, and though she was relieved to have finally heard from him, she had to force her doubts and annoyance away. He was a busy man, after all, and it’s not like men were known for their good communications skills when it came to relationships. Sure, they could talk a storm around business, sports and politics-but dealing with relationships? Not so much.
True to his word, he was there just minutes later. “Sorry I was late, love.” He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss as she stepped to the side to let him in.
She forced a smile to her lips. “No worries. I was just thinking of dinner. Have you eaten?” She looked at him, but only found dark circles under tired eyes, his gaze refusing to settle anywhere for long. What the hell was up?
“Nae, love. And I’m starving. Do ye want to head to town for a bite?” He brushed a stray curl from her face, his touch lingering.
The knot in her gut loosened just a little, and before she could think, she had her arms wrapped around his waist, the feel of him comforting, her anchor in a storm. “I don’t want to go back to town. Not tonight.”