Her Highland Boss: The Earl's Convenient Wife / In the Boss's Castle / Her Hot Highland Doc. Marion Lennox

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      THEY DID GO to look for otters, and Alasdair decreed they would go to Craigie Burn. It was the best place to see otters, he told her, the furthest place on the estate from any road, a section of the burn where otters had hunted and fished for generations almost undisturbed. The tiny burnside cottage had been built by a long-ago McBride who’d fancied fishing and camping overnight in relative comfort. But at dusk and dawn the midges appeared in their hordes and the fishing McBride of yore had soon decided that the trek back to the comforts of the castle at nightfall was worth the effort. The cottage had therefore long fallen into disrepair. The roof was intact but the place was pretty much a stone shell.

      Jeanie hadn’t intended telling Alasdair about Craigie Burn—but of course he knew.

      ‘I spent much of my childhood on the estate,’ he told her as they stowed lunch into the day pack. ‘I had the roaming of the place.’

      ‘Alan, too?’ she asked because she couldn’t help herself. Alan had hardly talked of his childhood—he’d hardly talked of his family.

      ‘My father and Alan’s father were peas in a pod,’ he said curtly. ‘They were interested in having a good time and not much else. They weren’t interested in their sons. Both our childhoods were therefore lonely but Alan thought he was lonelier here. The few times Eileen brought him here he hated it.’

      He swung the pack onto his back and then appeared to check Jeanie out—as she checked the guests out before they went rambling, making sure boots were stout, clothing sensible, the wildness of the country taken into account when dressing. He gave a curt nod. ‘Good.’ The dogs were locked in the wet room. Maggie’s mam would see them walked, for if the dogs were with them the possibility of seeing otters was about zero. ‘Ready?’

      ‘Ready,’ she said, feeling anything but. What was she doing traipsing around the country with this man when she should be earning her keep?

      But Alasdair was determined to give her a...honeymoon? Whatever it was called, it seemed she had no choice but to give in to him. She was still getting over sitting at the kitchen table the night before eating the risotto he’d prepared. It was excellent risotto, but...

      But the man had her totally off balance.

      They set off, down the cliff path to the rocky beach, then along the seafront, clambering over rocks, making their way to where Craigie Burn tumbled to the sea.

      The going was tough, even for Jeanie, who was used to it. Alasdair, though, had no trouble. A few times he paused and turned to help her. She shook off his offer of assistance but in truth his concern made her feel...

      As she had no right to feel, she told herself. She didn’t need to feel like the ‘little woman’. She’d had two marriages of being a doormat. No more.

      ‘Tell me about your childhood here,’ she encouraged as she struggled up one particularly rocky stretch. She asked more to take Alasdair’s attention away from her heavy breathing than out of interest—she would not admit she was struggling.

      But instead of talking as he climbed, Alasdair turned and gazed out to sea. Did he sense how much she needed a breather? He’d better not, she thought. I will not admit I’m a lesser climber than he is.

      But...without admitting anything...she turned and gazed out to sea with him.

      ‘I loved it,’ he said at last, and it had taken so long to answer she’d almost forgotten she’d asked. But his gaze was roving along the coastline, rugged, wild, amazing. ‘My father and my uncle hardly spent any time here. They hated it. My grandparents sent them to boarding school in England and they hardly came back. They both married socialites, they lived in the fast lane on my grandparents’ money and they weren’t the least bit interested in their sons. But Alan loved their lifestyle—from the time he was small he wanted to be a part of it. He loved the fancy hotels, the servants, the parties. It was only me who hated it.’

      ‘So you came back here.’

      ‘We were dumped,’ he told her. ‘Both of us. Our parents dumped us with Eileen every school holidays and she thought the castle would be good for us. Alan chafed to be able to join his parents’ lifestyle.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Maybe I was just antisocial even then, but here...’

      He paused and looked around him again. A pair of eagles was soaring in the thermals. She should be used to them by now, she told herself, but every time she saw them she felt her heart swell. They were magnificent and Alasdair paused long enough for her to know he felt it, too.

      ‘Here was home,’ Alasdair said at last. ‘Here I could be myself. Eileen usually stayed when Alan and I were here. You saw the place before she renovated. She and my grandfather didn’t appear to notice conditions were a bit...sparse. I don’t think I noticed, either. I was too busy, exploring, fishing, trying not to think how many days I had left before I went back to school. Alan was counting off the days until he could leave. I wanted to stay for the rest of my life.’

      ‘You didn’t, though. You ended up based in Edinburgh. You hardly came here until...until Eileen got sick at the end.’

      She was trying hard not to make her words an accusation but she didn’t get it right. It sounded harsh.

      There was a long silence. ‘I didn’t mean to be accusatory,’ she ventured at last and he shook his head.

      ‘I know you didn’t. But I need to explain. At first I didn’t come because I was immersed in business. I took to the world of finance like a duck to water, and maybe I lost perspective on other things I loved. But then... When Eileen started spending more time here, I didn’t come because you were here.’

      That was enough to give a girl pause. To make her forget to breathe for a moment. ‘Did you dislike me so much?’ she asked in a small voice and he gave an angry shrug.

      ‘I didn’t know you, but I knew Alan. I knew I hated him.’

      ‘Because?’

      ‘Because he was the sort of kid who pulled wings off flies. I won’t sugar coat it. My father was older than his, so my father stood to inherit the title, with me coming after him. Alan’s father resented mine and the resentment was passed on down the line. I don’t know what sort of poison was instilled in Alan when he was small but he was taught to hate me and he knew how to hurt.’

      Whoa. He hadn’t talked of this before. She knew it instinctively and who knew how she knew it, but she did. What he was saying was being said to her alone—and it hurt to say it.

      His eyes went to a point further along the coast, where the burn met the sea. ‘It came to a head down here,’ he told her, absently, almost as if speaking to the land rather than her. Apologising for not being back for so long? ‘I loved the otters, and I used to come down here often. One day Alan followed me. I was lying on my stomach watching the otters through field glasses. He was up on the ridge, and he’d taken my grandfather’s shotgun. He killed three otters before I reached him. He was eighteen months older than me, and much bigger, and I went for him and he hit me with the gun. I still carry the scar under my hairline. I was dazed and bleeding, and he laughed and walked back to the castle.’

      ‘No...’

      His mouth set in a grim line. ‘Thinking back...that blow to my head... He nearly killed me. But I was twelve and he was fourteen, and I was afraid of him. I told Grandmother I’d fallen on the cliffs. Soon after that his parents decided he was old enough to join them in the resorts