She tells herself the castle is just stone and history and obligation.
But as she walks away, she can still feel the warmth of him at her back, and that, more than anything Keir left behind, terrifies her.
Chapter12
The phone rings while Isla is practicing scales she doesn’t need.
She knows she doesn’t need them.Her fingers move automatically, muscle memory honed by decades of discipline, by mornings that began before sunlight and nights that ended with her hands aching and her mind refusing to rest.Still, she plays them anyway, precise and controlled, because control is easier than thought.
The sound cuts through the music.
She ignores it once.
The second ring is sharper, more insistent, as if whoever is calling knows she’s listening and refuses to be dismissed.
Isla exhales and lifts her hands from the keys.The final note hangs in the air, unfinished, before dissolving into silence.
She checks the screen.
Her mother.
Her chest tightens.
Of course, it’s her mother.It’s always her mother when Isla pauses long enough to be reachable.Distance has never mattered.Alisa has always known when to press.
Isla lets it ring a third time before answering.
“Hi, Mama.”
“Isla.”Her mother’s voice is warm, controlled, perfectly pitched between concern and authority.“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to answer.”
“I was practicing.”
A pause.Just long enough to register disapproval without voicing it.
“You’ve been there longer than I expected,” Alisa says.“Your manager has been calling.”
Isla stiffens.“I told him I was taking personal time.”
“Yes,” Alisa replies smoothly.“And he told me you have two performances coming up that require preparation.Commitments you don’t usually neglect.”
There it is.The soft blade beneath the velvet.
“I’m not neglecting anything,” Isla says carefully.“I’m regrouping.And I’m preparing while I’m here.”
“You don’t regroup in a castle in the Highlands,” her mother says lightly.“You regroup at home.With your piano.With your schedule.”
With me, the unspoken words add.
Isla’s fingers curl against the bench.“I’m exactly where I need to be right now.”
Another pause.This one colder.
“I know this trip has been… emotional,” Alisa says.“But you’ve stayed long enough.Ninety days is excessive for someone with your responsibilities.”
Isla’s spine straightens.“The will states?—”
“I’m not talking about the will,” her mother interrupts gently.“I’m talking about your life.”
