Fog rolledin off the loch, curling the black water in pale ribbons. The air tasted damp, cold, metallic. Clung to my skin as if the night itself dragged me into darkness. The sun had surrendered long ago. Now, fog and shadows stretched across the shoreline. Water lapped gently against the shore. Too gentle for the chaos burning in my mind.
Lachlan scanned the fog-choked horizon, his jaw harder than stone.
He’d had something on his mind since we started across the soft marsh. After a time, the trees broke into a clearing.
“Shouldn’t be far from South Inverness.” The edge of steel in Lachlan’s voice made me wonder if he was certain … or mad.
Was he mad at me? Because wrapping my head around one of my father’s henchmen shooting inmydirection seemed unfathomable.Well, Tash, we did get shot at, and Team Lachasha’s biggest haters is yo’ daddy.
Stumbling over a branch, I broke. “Is Inverness smaller than where Nan showed me your parents grew up in the Highlands … because …”we gotta be walking the wrong way.Moving my shoulder into a circle, I moaned from pain.
Lachlan stared at me, his shoulders even more rigid than mine. “You don’t realize what’s happening here, Natasha?”
I waited a beat. “No.”
“Lorenzo’s behind this. Every step of it.”
I froze; the name hit with the force of a punch. Stole my breath. “What?”
His expression hardened.Ugh. He’d misinterpreted my shock. My denial was instinct. Not in Lorenzo’s defense. But shock wrapped around my throat and choked the rebuttal because Lachlan was already speaking, his voice a clipped blade. “True, your father wants to kill me, but we had a head start. He can’t be in Scotland yet. Who else would shoot at us?”
“I didn’t—” I began, underneath a glare burning hotter than the fire we’d put out on Valentine’s Day.
“When I confronted him about the elevator,” Lachlan pressed, his voice low, fierce. “You continued to entertain—” He broke off, wood crunching beneath his feet as he stepped closer to me. Lachlan exhaled hard. “Crap. I’m sorry, Natasha. You’re not to blame.”
“It’s okay,” I murmured, voice tight.
“Nae. Hell, you dodged bullets with me. That soldier—he dropped that Italian accent. Maybe you didn’t hear it while they shot at us.”
“He’s off. Crazy. And I’m the girl who never chose him, Lachlan,” I declared, chest tight. “I tried to tell you.” The dark was so complete it felt physical. I tried my best to catch his eye beneath the smoky moonlight. I dropped a hand on his chest. “I was hurt. So, I talked with him, occasionally. Not the best idea. Still, I never …”
“I know, Tasha.” The anger in his posture eased. Slowly, the rage throbbing beneath my palm ebbed. When his sigh broke off beneath my fingers, I felt something even heavier. Bone-deepexhaustion. He roughed a hand over his exhausted face. “I’ve been abawbag. Forgive me?”
“Always.” A soft smile came easy, and his groveling loosened the knot in my chest. “You’re my cranky Scot.”
“Aye. Cranky.” His voice was low, worn thin, yet a weight in it tugged at my chest. He shifted closer, his eyes darker than the light that faded long ago. With chilled air clinging between us and the sheer relief at how kind he was, I leaned toward him without thinking.
Lachlan brushed damp strands of hair from my cheek. His gaze locked on mine, another unspoken apology deep in those stormy blue-green eyes, and he closed the distance. Our lips met. Firm. Coaxing me to soften for him. That kiss also carried relief, and something dangerous in the sweetness.
My breath caught. The faint taste of freshwater clung to him, mingling with the clean, masculine warmth that was entirely Lachlan. Love’s heat threaded through the chill. His hands slid toward my lower back, a remedy for the ache. My hands slipped around his neck and beneath the back of his shirt. Smooth, muscular hot skin warmed my fingertips. For one suspended heartbeat, the world narrowed to the heat of his mouth, the rough scrape of stubble against my skin, and the steady thump of his heartbeat.
Lachlan’s thumb stroked my jaw, and the tender pressure made my chest ache in a way that bullets and danger never could. I pressed closer, seeking more of his kiss. The fog, the night, that maniac, it all fell away.
And then …
A sound echoed—a faint, intoxicated snigger, concealed behind a tree. Then another. Lachlan froze, pulling back just enough to look past my shoulder into the dark. My stomach dropped.No.Not Lorenzo. He couldn’t find us after that old boat broke down in the water. Could…he?
As I turned around to see what captured Lachlan’s attention, two shapes moved where the fog was thickest.
The cold between us returned, sharper now, threaded through with adrenaline. Lachlan’s jaw tightened. He shifted his stance, his hand hovering at my spine like he was ready to push me behind him. The night had turned, and whatever warmth we’d stolen vanished, replaced by the pulse of danger as the two images merged into four.
47
LACHLAN
Four men.How did we get here? I’d been on edge since the boat died, my pulse hummed with restless vigilance. Now, Natasha clung to me, her breath clouding the damp air. What I wouldn’t give to make her disappear in this moment. After those months wanting her here, beside me, I needed her far away from me. Safe.
Four burly shadows resolved into men with hard eyes and heavier intent.
