Gulping, I nod at him, realizing he’s right and there’s nothing to worry about. But all that flies out the window whenwe pull to a stop and the big wood doors fly open and several people come flying out, yelling over top of one another. The words mix and mingle, making them nearly indecipherable. There’s a lot of “yer lordship” and “the laird’s home” being bandied about.
I’m confused as fuck and overwhelmed beyond measure. That is until one person comes down the stairs, his gait on the slow side given his age, but still strong and confident despite the speed.
“Tavish Buchanan, is that ye?”
“Mack?” I ask, racing into his arms without an answer because it’s not needed. Even though twenty years have passed, I’d know that voice anywhere.
His arms wrap around me, scooping me up into his embrace as if I’m still six years old.
“Yer still nae bigger than a minnow, lad,” he says as he sets me back down on my own feet.
Draven’s brow furrows with confusion when I look from Mack to him. Walking toward him, I take his hand, and I pull him toward Mack.
“Da…Draven, this is my Mack. He worked for my parents before my mom died.”
Mack nods, then says, “Och, aye. I kept working for the estate until yer da died. When we received word that yer da passed on, the executor let all the staff go and closed up the house. That’s when I came back home. My sister and her family lived here and without a job, she invited me to stay with them until I found a spot.”
I’m glancing between Mack and Draven as Mack speaks and Draven’s face flashes through emotions like a strobe light on speed. Confusion and astonishment are easy enough to pick out, but there’s a few in there that have me baffled. Mostly the lookof guilt that passes over his face when Mack mentions my dad dying.
Draven looks down at me, a tight smile barely making a crack in his stoic facade. He drops my hand and turns toward the car, saying, “Let’s get our bags in the house and we’ll introduce ye to everyone else in a wee bit.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DRAVEN
Draven
I turn backto the car to grab our bags. Several o’ the staff stare at me in disbelief, unsure o’ what they should do. It’s nae like I’ve never carried my own bags, but to leave a guest behind as I did Tavish when they’re all standing here has their mouth’s hanging open.
Hefting our luggage out o' the boot, I turn back toward the house. I murmur, “Follow me, mo ghille donn,” as I pass Tavish.
I dinnae look back to see if he’s following until I’m inside the door. When I see he’s still standing at the foot o’ the front steps, I arch my brow at him.
He hugs Mack again, then he scampers up the stairs after me. I’m halfway up the stairs to my bedroom when I hear him yell, “Nice to meet you,” before he slams the front door behind him.
His quick steps echo through the entryway and up the stairs. When I reach the bedroom floor, I pause, waiting for him to catch up. With him at my side, I continue down the hall, glancing at him, gawking in awe at the open doors to thebedchambers as we pass along the way. All the while, my mind spins at the fankle I’ve found myself in.
With Mack being Tavish’s Mack from his childhood, and Mack knowing some o’ the things I’ve done since receiving the letter my grandfather sent to my father, I ken I must tell Tavish exactly how his father died. The boy isnae an eejit. He’ll piece the shit together in a flash.
I stop outside the Laird’s bedroom, as the house staff has always called it, and motion for Tavish to open the door. When he does, I step past him, taking the luggage to the wardrobe.
“It’s like I’ve stepped back in time,” he mutters just loud enough that I hear, but I’m nae sure he meant me to.
“Aye. It may be home, but it could easily be a museum,” I reply as I sit down on the sofa nestled in the circular portion o' the room made possible by the turret on this side o' the building.
Tavish hurries over to me, bouncing on the seat cushion next to me. “I didn’t mean it was old or outdated. I just meant…”
I interrupt him quickly so he disnae think his comment was taken poorly. “I dinnae think ye did. I also get that feeling from time to time. Especially when I’ve been away for a while or people call me yer lordship. It’s strange. Especially since I spent the last few years o' my childhood in an orphanage.”
He nods and settles himself on my lap. Something I’ve come to love. He did it occasionally prior to me leaving on my last jaunt to find Maeve, but it’s been a regular occurrence since the flight from America. He tucks his head under my chin and plucks at the frayed fabric on the knees o' his jeans. His mind is swirling with questions. It always is when he fidgets like he is. I just have to wait him out.
Finally, he asks, “Why did you look funny when Mack told us about how he left my family to come here to you and Simon?”
I heave a tremendous sigh and let my eyes slide closed. I dinnae ken how to tell him what I did. How I forced him into thehell he lived through over the last few years. I need to tell him. I ken it, but I’m nae ready, so instead I say, “I dinnae ken what ye mean, lilla du.”
His eyes widen in shock, and I ken then that he kens I’m nae being truthful with him. After staring at me for several minutes, he stands and walks away nae looking back at me at all.
“I’m going to shower. I feel gross,” he says as he walks through the open door to the bathroom.
