‘What are you thinking?’ Fraser asked.
She didn’t know how to put into words everything that was racing through her mind. She realised that all her life she’d had an idea of how family life should be. Some dreamy half-formed image of breakfast in bed and acres of white bedding and a husband beside her. And now that she was expecting a baby, and part of that picture was coming true, the rest of it seemed further away than ever before.
‘Just that our baby will sleep here,’ she said eventually, filtering her thoughts down to their simplest component part. ‘It feels weird,’ she added, in case he hadn’t picked up on the vibe in the room.
‘Yeah,’ Fraser added.
She could hear the wonder in his voice. Maybe he wasn’t completely oblivious, after all.
‘Do you like the room the way it is? I can ask them to leave everything?’
‘I think it’s gorgeous. Perfect.’
‘You don’t want to put your own stamp on it?’
‘It’s your home, Fraser...’
Perhaps he hadn’t quite reached the same conclusions she had yet. Perhaps it hadn’t occurred to him that their family was going to be stretched across at least two homes. That this little picture of familial bliss that the show home had created wasn’t really going to apply for them.
‘I know, but it’s our baby. I want you to be happy with it too.’
‘Honestly, it’s lovely. Leave it just as it is.’
The atmosphere in the nursery was suddenly stifling, and Elspeth turned for the door. Fraser reached for her hand and she let him take hold of her fingers, but didn’t let it stop her leaving. She needed to be out of that room.
As they reached the living room she glanced down at their still clasped hands and Fraser followed her gaze, as if he hadn’t realised what he had done. He pulled his hand away, a little more quickly than was comfortable for her ego.
‘So, my dad...’ Fraser said. ‘You’re right. We should go. And soon. I’ll have to call him.’
Just like that? As if they hadn’t been estranged for fifteen years?
‘Well, just let me know when. Like I said, I’ll be there if you want me.’
* * *
Fraser looked again at the number in his phone. Would it even still work? No one he knew answered their landline any more. But it was the only number he had for his dad. He didn’t even know why he’d bothered to programme it into his phone. The number was ingrained in his memory, in his childhood—in that part of his life before he’d had a mobile phone, before his family had been torn apart.
He could ask his mum if she had a mobile number for him. He knew that they had been in touch over the years. He’d seen the evidence in his mum’s red eyes whenever letters from the family solicitor had arrived on the mat at home. Worst of all had been the time they had found out that his father’s second marriage had ended. Every time his father had made his mum cry, Fraser had sworn again that he wouldn’t go back. He would never speak to him again.
What would his mum say if she knew that he was thinking of getting in touch with him?
The betrayal would undoubtedly hurt her. She’d been delighted when he’d told her about the baby, and had hardly batted an eyelid at the fact that he wasn’t in a relationship with Elspeth. Had she guessed that he would want to go back to Ballanross? She hadn’t said a word about it if she had. She’d never told him that she didn’t want him to speak to his father. Hadn’t had to when he had been able to see the pain that even the mention of his name caused her.
If ever he’d needed a reminder of what following lust and impulsive attraction did to a family it was now. This was why he wasn’t going to give in to the feelings he had for Elspeth. This was why he was going to resist the fact that he wanted her with every bone in his body. Because he wouldn’t subject his child to the pain that he and his mother had gone through.
But he couldn’t deny his child Ballanross either. As formative as his parents’ separation had been, Ballanross had been more so. That feeling of being connected to the land. Of belonging somewhere. Of standing on the ground where his grandfather, and his grandfather’s father had stood. That was what had made him who he was today. He couldn’t take that away from his child, however much pain it might cause in the short term.
What was he going to tell his dad about Elspeth? he wondered. His father wasn’t entitled to know anything about his life. Maybe he wouldn’t tell him anything. Just show up with a noticeably pregnant woman and let his dad work it out. It wasn’t as if he owed him an explanation.
But that wouldn’t be fair on Elspeth, he knew. It probably wasn’t really fair to take her up there with him at all. If she hadn’t suggested it—insisted on it—he wouldn’t have thought about doing it. He shouldn’t be letting anyone else see into the middle of the conflict between him and his dad. But he was going to—because she had offered and because, selfishly, he wanted her there.
He didn’t know what was going on between himself and Elspeth. Other than that they were both keeping a sensible distance from the fireworks that had got them into this situation in the first place. When they had been looking at the apartment the chemistry between them had been so hot that he had been tempted—so tempted—to forget all the reasons why they both knew it was a bad idea to be anything other than friends.
And now he had to go and see his father—the perfect reminder of where things led when you made decisions based on what your body wanted, rather than making rational, sensible decisions that protected everybody.
Talking about his father had cured him of that temptation. Or had put it in its proper place at least. He wasn’t sure he would ever be cured of wanting her, but the memory of what those sorts of emotions had done to his family was enough to keep his feelings in check. However much he might want Elspeth—and right now he wanted her in every possible way—the only way to keep his family safe and secure and together was to bury those feelings deep.
He dialled his father’s number and felt a heavy roiling anxiety as he waited for him to answer.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELSPETH WATCHED THE landscape change from the window of Fraser’s muddy black four-by-four as they drove north. The busy city streets gave way to the suburbs north of Edinburgh, a view of the water as they crossed the new bridge over the Firth of Forth, and then miles of lowland motorway surrounded by fields.
As the motorway gave way to A roads, mountains appeared on the horizon, heavy with snow. The sunlight caught the jewel-bright greens of the grasses and the trees in the fields, popping against the layered taupes and greys of the hills and Munros. Clouds shrouded the higher peaks, and the tops of even the lower hills were covered with snow.
It would be bleak up here in a cold snap, she thought, noting the snow poles either side of the carriageway, just in case the snow hid the road completely.
Elspeth shivered and cranked up the heating, glad that they had taken Fraser’s luxury car rather than her old wheelchair-friendly eco-wagon.
Elspeth was growing more and more edgy, she realised, as they racked up the miles between her and Sarah, but at least she knew her mum was there to keep an eye on things. After Elspeth, she knew Sarah’s needs better than anyone. And, although they had arranged for some respite cover to help out with the stuff that arthritis made difficult—lifting and transferring Sarah, the physiotherapy that eased the tightness out of her muscles—her mum would be there to supervise.
‘There are some blankets behind your seat if the heater’s not enough,’ Fraser said, spotting her fiddling with the controls and distracting her from her worry for a moment.
She reached behind her and tucked one of the blankets around herself, wondering what this journey would be like with a baby. They’d been on the road for a couple of hours now, and the landscape grew more beautiful, more dramatic, by the mile.
The lush greens of the lowlands had given way to the s
tarker browns and greys of the Cairngorms, broken up by the rich greens of the pine forests. And as the landscape had changed so had Fraser.
In Edinburgh he’d seemed almost cheerful, but Elspeth had been able to see the effort he was having to put in to the façade. There had seemed little point mentioning it, though, when they both understood how complicated his feelings about this trip were. If he wanted to cover his real feelings with false chirpiness, then that was his prerogative. But as they had drawn closer and closer to his childhood home the pretence had fallen away, and now she could see the tension in his features. In the stiff line of his shoulders and his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked, not expecting anything more than the ‘Fine’ that he forced out through gritted teeth.
He wasn’t exactly the ‘talking about his feelings’ type. Especially, she kept reminding herself, as they were only friends. Despite the bump that was growing large enough to make her uncomfortable from time to time.
She rubbed her belly without thinking, and it was only when Fraser said, ‘Everything okay in there?’ that she realised that he was watching her. Or at least glancing over at her whenever an occasional straight section of road allowed.
‘Aside from the dance party we’re all fine,’ she replied with a smile.
‘Dance party?’
‘The baby’s usually pretty active this time of the evening.’
‘Can I feel?’
Elspeth glanced at the twisting road ahead, pretty sure that she didn’t want Fraser driving without both hands on the wheel. But before she had a chance to register what he was doing he had pulled over into a gateway leading down a dirt track and was looking at her with earnest longing on his face.
‘Can I?’
Elspeth shrugged, trying to pretend that the thought of his hand on her body was something that only concerned her in her role as a mother. Trying to block out the memories of any other time his hand had stroked the soft, naked skin of her belly. This was it. This was who they were to each other now. Co-parents of this life growing—and apparently somersaulting—inside her.
‘Sure.’ Elspeth heard how steady her voice was and was quietly impressed with her composure.
She didn’t exactly feel steady inside. But it didn’t help her or Fraser for him to know that. She hitched up her T-shirt—she’d had to give in and buy some maternity tops the week before—and waited for the touch of his hand.
Though the car had warmed up, when Fraser’s hand brushed against her skin his fingers were like ice. She yelped and he pulled away, his face a picture of concern.
‘Did I hurt you?’ he asked.
‘Of course not.’ Elspeth smiled. ‘I’m not that fragile. But your hands are freezing.’
She pulled his hand back and chafed it between her own, rubbing warmth into his fingers.
‘Try just here,’ she said, placing his hand low on her belly, where the low-cut waistband of her jeans met bare skin. ‘It’ll still be cold enough to make the baby jump.’
They sat in silence as they waited, their breath starting to steam up the windows. As the minutes went past, and baby kept them waiting, Elspeth pulled the blanket around her again, concealing Fraser’s hand beneath. They had both scooted sideways in their seats, to try and bridge the space between them over the car’s central console, but after a few minutes Elspeth’s back started to ache.
She stretched up, trying to ease out the knot in her spine without dislodging Fraser’s hand. She knew that it was always when she took her hand away that the baby would decide to kick up a storm.
‘Sure you’re okay?’ Fraser asked, and this time she was touched rather than amused by his expression.
It was protective, fiercely so, but also tender. Above all, it was intimate. It was a look that told her that they were bound together by this baby, whether they liked it or not. That, as much as they didn’t know about each other yet, they were going to be tied together for a lifetime.
‘Come here.’
Fraser wound his free arm around her back and pulled her closer to him, turning her slightly so that her back rested against his front. For a moment she stiffened, knowing that being so close to him was a bad idea. It was bad for her self-control, bad for keeping her fantasies at bay. But it felt so right just now, in this minute, as they shared the moment.
She relaxed into him, sliding her hand on top of his where it still rested on her belly. She couldn’t feel anything from baby—none of the little flutters or rolls she was slowly getting used to. Instead she could just feel Fraser. The slight scratch of his fingertips against her skin. The caress of his thumb as it started to drift back and forth across her belly. The heat of his breath against her neck, stirring her hair, warming her far more than she should expect from simple body heat.
His arms wrapped tighter around her and his lips tickled the sensitive skin behind her ear as they brushed against her skin. Not a kiss. Not quite—not yet. Without letting herself think too much about it, she let her head drop to one side, giving him more room, more temptation. As his lips finally pressed against her in a hot, moist kiss she felt a jolt low down in her belly, and it was only when Fraser exclaimed behind her that she realised that the baby had finally kicked.
‘Oh, my goodness!’ Fraser said, a laugh in his voice. ‘Was that it? Was that the baby?’
‘Well, it wasn’t me,’ Elspeth said, also laughing, relieved that they had been interrupted before either of them had done something they couldn’t take back.
The interruption had chased the heated atmosphere out of the car and replaced it with something less dangerous as their focus centred entirely on the baby.
‘Will it do it again?’ Fraser asked.
‘Probably—give her a minute.’
‘Her?’ Fraser looked at her with curiosity. ‘I thought you weren’t finding out.’
‘I haven’t. It’s just habit,’ Elspeth explained with a smile and a shrug. ‘I have to call her something.’
‘It’s really real, isn’t it?’ Fraser said, with something close to wonder in his voice. ‘We’re really having a baby. This baby.’
‘We really are,’ Elspeth said, resting back in her seat and pulling the blanket tighter. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked eventually, when Fraser’s silence stretched out.
‘I am. I just can’t quite believe it, you know? You, and the bairn and going home...’
Elspeth reached for his hand, knowing what a concession she’d just got, with Fraser acknowledging his nerves about where they were going.
‘I know. I know it’s all sudden, and it’s all hard. But we’re a team.’ She squeezed his hand and the baby kicked again, right into Fraser’s palm. ‘All three of us.’
Fraser smiled and removed his hand, shifting back so he was sitting properly behind the wheel. ‘Then I should probably drive us all there and get it over and done with.’
He resumed his grip on the wheel, but the smile that had reached his eyes when he had felt the baby kick was still there, still curling up the corners of his lips too.
That almost-kiss had been nothing, Elspeth told herself. It had just been them sharing a baby milestone, forcing them into the sort of everyday intimacy that expectant couples shared. They had forgotten themselves momentarily, forgotten that the normal rules didn’t apply for them. It had made them confuse having feelings for the baby for feelings for each other.
It didn’t have to mean anything. It definitely didn’t mean that they had to do or say anything. It was best forgotten about.
As the single track road they had been following for a few miles gave way to a gravel driveway Elspeth got her first proper look at the castle. She’d tried to find an image of it online before they had left, but the public highway ended miles from the castle itself, and the satellite pictures had offered up only a grainy bird’s eye view.
The car swept around a bend in the driveway, the row of pine trees broke, and Elspeth got her first understanding of what this life was going to mean for her baby.
The ruins of an old castle sat atop a steep grassy bank in front of a small loch, most of the stones fallen, but a few arches and windows intact. With a nearly full moon reflecting off the water, creating dramatic shadows, Elspeth could only imagine the grandeur of the building in its heyday. And between the car and the ruins sat Castle Ballanross in its second incarnation, with its grey stone, round towers and steeple-like turrets. A burn skirted the farthest corner of the castle, and she wound her window down to hear the gentle burble of water over cobbles.
She tried to imagine a young Fraser here, running around the grounds. It was difficult to see this place as a home. Hard to see it as anything other than a tourist attraction or a relic from the past. She glanced over at Fraser to see how he was taking being back. But his face only showed the same tension that had been present since they’d passed the Cairngorms.
Fraser stopped the car and a door in the tower closest to them opened inwards, silhouetting a figure in the light that spilt from inside. Fraser didn’t make any move to open the door, and that was enough for her to know that the man who had opened the door must be his father. She didn’t know anything, know anyone else who could stop Fraser in his tracks like that.
Just as she was wondering whether she would have to say something, Fraser heaved out a sigh and reached for the handle. He paused for a second and looked over at her.
‘Look, if this gets ugly, I’m sorry.’
Elspeth took hold of the hand that was still on the steering wheel.
‘Don’t forget: we’re a team. I’ve got your back.’
Fraser laughed, breaking the tension in the car. ‘You make it sound like a duel, or something. I promise it won’t come to that.’
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