Elspeth smiled. ‘Good to hear. Now, get your backside out of the car. I’m freezing.’
He laughed again, and Elspeth relaxed just a fraction. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FRASER WALKED TOWARDS the door, his eyes fixed on his father. It had been a decade and a half since he had last seen him, but he could still recognise him just by his silhouette. He felt a spark of annoyance towards himself at that. How much of this man was still a part of him, even after Fraser had tried to pretend for fifteen years that he didn’t exist?
Fraser shook his head as he walked closer. How were they meant to do this? He wasn’t sure that it was possible to rebuild a relationship that had long-ago burnt out and gone cold. Would his father even want to? He’d had every opportunity over the past fifteen years to get in touch. To try and restart their relationship. And he hadn’t tried—not even once.
He thought about the baby Elspeth was carrying, the little flutter of life that he had felt in the car on the way here. That was why he was doing this. Because that child had a place here, on this land, the place where Fraser had always felt anchored. Whole.
Whole.
He couldn’t remember when it had started to feel normal to have such a huge part of himself missing. But as he looked around, took in the buildings and landscapes and sounds and smells of his childhood, he realised that he had been living with an enormous part of himself absent for longer than he could remember. And as he looked over to the door and saw his father standing there he was reminded of the reason.
This was his father’s fault.
Yes, Fraser was the one who had walked away and refused to look back. But he never would have done that if his father hadn’t torn his family apart. Hadn’t humiliated his mother by abandoning her for another woman. If he hadn’t been blinded by lust and infatuation and mistaken that for love. The sort of love that he and his mother had offered unquestioningly until his father had thrown it back in their faces.
He reached his dad and stuck out a hand in a gesture of greeting. He was the one who had arranged this reunion, and it was going to be on his terms. He would make sure his father understood that.
‘Fraser,’ his father said, with a waver in his voice.
‘Father.’
Fraser noticed that his own voice was deeper than his father’s, and that he’d managed to keep it unquestionably solid. He wouldn’t give even a hint that he felt anything other than entirely unmoved about this reunion.
This was about the baby. Making sure that his child would have the place in the world it would be born to. That his child wouldn’t feel the emptiness Fraser had struggled to fill since he was a teenager. His child belonged here—in this castle, on this land. That was why he was back. The fact that it meant a rapprochement with his dad wasn’t relevant to this meeting.
‘And will you introduce me to your friend?’ his dad asked, his eyeline passing over Fraser’s shoulder to where Elspeth was climbing down from the car, her bump hidden in the shadows and folds of her coat.
He hadn’t mentioned the baby to his father. In the end he hadn’t known how to. He had just told him on the phone that he wanted to come up to the castle and talk.
Would he have guessed? If he had, he would probably be expecting that they were at least in a relationship, if not preparing to get married.
A knot in his stomach reminded him that he had known all along that it wasn’t fair to drop Elspeth into this. That he should have explained the situation to his dad before bringing her up here. She was being dropped into the middle of a family drama, and the fact that he hadn’t told his dad about the nature of their relationship was only going to make things worse.
He took a deep breath. It was too late to have regrets now. Elspeth was here with him and he couldn’t make himself want to change anything about that. He’d take anything to distract himself from the enormity of being back here. Of going back on his promise to himself that he would never see his father again.
‘Father, this is Elspeth,’ Fraser said, placing an arm around her waist as she drew near to him.
He knew that it wasn’t going to help with the mixed signals, but he wanted her near. Wanted the child within her body near, to remind him why he was doing this. To remind him of his responsibilities to the next generation of his family, the reason why he was here.
‘Elspeth, this is Malcolm.’
Elspeth held out a hand and shook Malcolm’s with a smile. ‘Pleasure to meet you,’ she said. ‘Thank you for having me in your home.’
‘You’re very welcome,’ he replied, with a curious look towards her middle. ‘I’m glad to have you both here.’
Fraser felt anger rising within him. Because his father did look pleased. More than pleased. He looked delighted, if a little confused, and Fraser could guess at what he was thinking. He was thinking that this meant a rapprochement, an improvement in relations with his only son. He thought that he was being forgiven.
Well, he could go on thinking that for as long as he wanted. It wasn’t going to make it happen. As soon as they were settled inside he would tell his father about the baby and explain that that was the only reason they were here. He would nip any expectations of reconciliation and forgiveness in the bud.
‘Well, come in from the cold, both of ye,’ Malcolm said after another awkward moment. ‘There’s a fire in the study—or the kitchen will be warm.’
‘The study will be fine,’ Fraser said, rejecting instinctively the idea of them all sitting around the range in the kitchen, scene of childhood lunches, hot chocolate and warm bread straight from the oven. The more formal study in the family apartments would be quite sufficient for making introductions and explanations. Then he and Elspeth could get to bed, and at least day one of this trip would be over.
Tomorrow he planned to be out through the door at dawn, looking over Ballanross. Making peace with his long absence and soaking up enough of the air to keep him going until the next time he had to come back.
He moved his hand from around Elspeth’s waist, sensing the stiffness and awkwardness in her body. But he couldn’t let her go entirely. When he moved his arm away he felt adrift, so he reached for her hand, hoping for an anchor. She laced her fingers between his and squeezed, and he let out a breath of relief that in her he had a friend and an ally.
But that was all he could think of her as. All he should expect from her. If he thought back to that moment that they had shared in the car, a moment that had promised so much more than friendship, he...
He couldn’t. It was too confusing. Too distracting. He was grateful for her support in seeing his father for the first time in fifteen years, but he mustn’t let himself be distracted by their attraction to one another. There were enough emotions, enough ghosts, flying around this castle without confusing one another by trying to make this relationship something that it could never be.
They followed Malcolm down a chilly corridor—so much colder than Fraser remembered from his childhood. Then, the grand formal rooms had been cold, but the small number of rooms where the family had really lived, where they’d spent their days—carpeted, centrally heated and free of cobwebs—had felt cosy.
In his father’s study, a small fire burned in the grate, but even with the flames dancing in front of him Fraser could feel the chill in the room. He tried not to take it as an omen. He should have warned Elspeth to pack extra layers. He wasn’t sure that a city girl like her could even conceive of the chill of a Highland castle in winter.
Or maybe he had just gone soft, he thought to himself, shivering again.
‘Sorry about the cold,’ Malcolm said, adding a couple of logs to the fire. ‘I’ve had it burning in here all day, but this place takes weeks to warm up if it gets cold. Well, you remember...’ he said, trying to meet Fraser’s eyes.
No, Fraser thought. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get t
o call on our shared history and pretend that nothing has happened. You don’t get to dip into my past and bring it into the present at will.
It was only as his anger subsided that he started to process his father’s words. Weeks to warm up? Why wasn’t the central heating on? And if that wasn’t enough to keep the place warm why wasn’t he burning a fire in here every day?
He looked around the study and found it much as he remembered it from fifteen years ago. His father’s old desk was laden with papers, and the same antique armchairs stood by the fire.
But the upholstery was worn through, showing the stuffing underneath. He didn’t know what had happened in the intervening years, but he remembered the furniture in here gleaming, proudly withstanding the decay that had claimed most pieces of that vintage. But now there was dust everywhere, knocks and rings showing on the wood and the smell of damp in the air. It was clear that standards had slipped considerably.
He shook his head, resisting the urge to interfere in the upkeep of the estate. It wasn’t his responsibility. Not anymore. Not yet.
When they were all seated by the fire his father looked at them both expectantly, and at last Fraser dropped Elspeth’s hand. It was hardly worth the gesture; his father would have jumped to conclusions already. And he missed the warmth of her. The reassurance. The feeling that they were in this as a team. But it was done now.
‘Father, my friend Elspeth and I are expecting a baby.’ He emphasised ‘friend’, hoping that it would get rid of the need for further explanations.
His father’s smile beamed from every feature, travelling from his mouth to his eyes, and taking in every line and crag of his skin in between.
‘Well, that’s wonderful news...’
Questions remained unspoken but hung in the room around him. And...? And we’re getting married... And we’re an item...
And it was none of his business, Fraser thought. He had long ago given up the right to ask those sorts of questions. They were here for the baby—not because he owed his father anything.
‘I’d like Ballanross to be a part of the baby’s life from the start. That’s why we’re here.’
That was what was important here. His child’s land and legacy. His family’s responsibility to the people who relied on the estate for their livelihoods. The privileges and responsibilities that his son or daughter would one day inherit.
‘Well, I’m very pleased to see you,’ Malcolm said, not seeming the least bit put out that Fraser had just told him that he hadn’t come here to see him. ‘And to hear your news. That’s wonderful. When is the baby due?’
Malcolm’s placatory words made Fraser even more angry. How could he act as if nothing was wrong? As if he hadn’t destroyed their family and kept Fraser away from his home for fifteen years? As if Fraser hadn’t spent the whole of his adult life hating him?
Before he realised what he was doing he had pushed to his feet and balled his hands into fists to stop them doing something that he would regret. The rage that he had bottled up for fifteen years was making a break for it, and he couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t lose control of his emotions like that. He knew better. Knew better than his father ever had.
He took one more look at Malcolm and felt such anger that he knew he had to walk away. He strode from the room, his feet marching ahead under their own volition, carrying him towards his childhood bedroom.
As he pushed open the door he realised that nothing had been changed in here since the day he had left. The few books he’d forgotten to pack had been tidied from the floor. The bed had been stripped. But there were still posters on the wall, a few old toys on the shelves. He dropped down onto the bed, feeling like the angry teenager he had been the last time he was in this room.
* * *
Elspeth took a deep breath before knocking on the door. Malcolm had directed her to Fraser’s old bedroom—his best guess as to where he might have gone when he had stormed off. She had known from the start that this visit was going to be difficult for them all—Fraser most of all. But she hadn’t expected it to be quite so dramatic quite so early on.
Fraser hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that things were bad between him and his dad.
For a minute she’d wondered whether they’d made a big mistake, coming all the way up here just to reignite a family feud. But then the baby had given her a sharp kick—a timely reminder that she didn’t want any bad feeling in this family, her family now. She wanted her baby born into love and peace and harmony, however hippy that might sound. And, while it might be a bit optimistic hoping that Fraser and his father would be all warm hugs and bonhomie by the end of the weekend, it didn’t seem unreasonable to think that they might at least be civil to one another.
She knocked and turned the handle, and found Fraser sitting on an antique panelled bed hung with heavy navy and gold drapes, looking not a little lost.
He stood as she walked in and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘How did you find me?’
‘Your dad thought you might be up here.’
Elspeth’s instinct was to reach out to him, offer comfort. Pull him into her arms. But she knew that if she did that there would be much more than comfort between them. They had proved that in the car on the way up here. Any physical contact between them was a bad idea. They couldn’t be trusted to keep things innocent.
‘Your dad gave me directions,’ she carried on, trying to shake the memories of what had happened earlier. ‘Should have drawn me a map. I’ll never find my way back.’
Fraser gave a smile, more in recognition of her attempt to lighten the mood than at her humour.
‘I shouldn’t have walked out,’ Fraser said.
Not quite an apology, she noticed. In the circumstances, she could understand, but that didn’t mean she was going to let him get away with it.
‘And you shouldn’t have left me sitting there. I said I’d be your wingman, not your cleanup crew.’
Another smile, less forced this time.
‘I know. You’re a hero. I shouldn’t have walked out like that.’
Elspeth smiled. Knowing that he’d been an idiot didn’t get him off the hook either. She dropped to sit on his bed, stretching out her back and taking in her surroundings. The posters on the wall, the figures on the shelves.
‘Is this just how you left it?’ she asked, to break the silence.
‘Aye.’ Fraser nodded. ‘It’s a little tidier now. But this was me at fifteen.’
‘Does it feel strange?’ Elspeth asked, realising what an intimate thing it was, to walk into a room and see someone’s childhood. ‘To come back and find it like this?’
Fraser shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I assume you still have your childhood room, if you’re living with your mum. Is that weird?’
‘Yes, honestly, it is sometimes.’
She might as well tell the truth. Living with her mum when she was in her thirties was never going to be ideal. But she didn’t have the luxury of another choice. Her mum and Sarah needed her to be there.
‘But my room isn’t a time capsule,’ she went on, after sitting quietly for a few moments. ‘Your dad could have changed things in here. Taken down the posters. Even if you were going to come back he had to know that you wouldn’t need a teenager’s bedroom any more.’
Fraser’s face hardened into an expression that came out whenever they talked about his father. ‘Probably he just didn’t care. I doubt he’s been in here since I left.’
‘Looks pretty clean and tidy in here for a room that’s not been touched for fifteen years.’
Fraser didn’t have an answer for that. All right, she knew that generally a castle came with an army of staff to look after it, but there was no denying that this room was well-kept. Better kept, in fact, than the room they had been in earlier.
It looked as if she had given Fraser something to think about, because he h
ad sat back on the bed and rested forward on his elbows, staring pensively at the floor.
Did he really think that? Elspeth wondered. That his father didn’t care about him? Because it had been clear to her from the moment she had seen Malcolm waiting in the doorway of the tower, nervous anticipation obvious in his posture, that Malcolm cared very deeply about his son. But if Fraser really thought that his father didn’t love him, what had that done to him over the years? To the way he saw himself? To his relationships? No wonder he had been scared when she had told him about the baby. If he hadn’t ever been able to count on this most important bond, no wonder he had never made another.
Not that it mattered to her, she reminded herself. Fraser’s commitment issues weren’t her problem and they weren’t why she wasn’t interested in a relationship with him. There was way more than that standing between them and a happy-ever-after. It was good to have the reminder, though. That it wasn’t just her who didn’t want this.
Even if Sarah was suddenly cured and Elspeth’s responsibilities magically melted away and her time and emotional energy and love weren’t pulling her in three different directions, Fraser was in no position to be in a relationship.
All they had to concentrate on was being the best parents they could be to this baby. And as far as she could see, Fraser wasn’t going to be able to do that until he’d fully come to terms with the breakdown of his relationship with his father. And perhaps tried to make a new relationship with him.
Elspeth reached for Fraser’s hand, remembering how much she’d liked the way he’d held it earlier. She’d liked the way it had felt to be anchored to him. Liked the way it had felt, knowing that he’d come to her for support.
She was his family now, she realised, and felt the reality of their situation sinking in yet another level. She was the mother of his child, and that meant they shared a bond that would last for ever. She couldn’t escape from it, even if she wanted to.
She couldn’t think how she’d find the capacity to care for someone else, and suddenly wondered what she was doing here, in the Highlands, digging herself deeper into family issues that had been impossible to fix long before she had had anything to do with Fraser.
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