Cilla’s question about Neil rolled around in Lachlan’s head. “I don’t understand. You were the model cadet, and suddenly you started drinking and—”
“None of your business.” Neil thrust a finger at Lachlan.
Lachlan raised both hands in surrender, but his chest hollowed out. “Did something happen? Why—”
“None of your business.” Neil’s gaze burned.
That burning scorched a savage path into Lachlan’s heart. Something had indeed happened, and his hands drifted down. “Something happened. You didnae tell me.”
“Tell you? Why would I? You could never understand.” Neil marched in a circle around Lachlan, jabbing a finger at him. “How could you? No one did such things to you, did they?Shameful things, unspeakable. No one did that to you, I could tell. You were happy. Confident. Un—untouched. And I hated you. Hated you.”
Sickly green slime filled the cavern in Lachlan’s chest. In every boarding school, there were whispered rumors. Professors to avoid in private. Boys to avoid. Places to avoid.
“Oh no,” he murmured.
Neil cried out and shoved Lachlan’s shoulder. “You want to know why I drank, aye? To get out. To get away. To forget. You would have drunk too.”
“Aye. I might have done.” His voice came out ragged.
Effie growled and pressed herself to Lachlan’s leg, and Lachlan weaved his fingers into her ruff to reassure her. Unable to bear the pain, Neil had molded it into anger. And anger molded into jealousy. Jealousy into hatred.
Neil’s kilt swung hard as he marched. “I hated you. Hated that you didnae need to drink. That you had nothing to forget. That everything went well for you. That you were still so upstanding, so ... I knew you’d turn me in. How could pure, perfect Lachlan do anything else?”
Lachlan’s chest ached. “Yet you told me what you’d done—the motorcar, the cottage.”
Still circling, Neil slapped his hands to his hips and lowered his head. His chest heaved.
It all made sense. “So you could escape. I’m sorry.”
Neil snapped up his fiery gaze. “I dinnae want your pity.”
“I know, man. I know.”
With a groan, Neil shook his head hard. “You pitied me then, I could feel it, pitied the wretch I’d become. And I—it was better to be hated than pitied. It doesnae make sense, I know, but all—all I wanted was for you to hate me as much as I hated you.”
Lachlan stroked Effie’s ears and measured his words. “You succeeded.”
Neil slammed to a stop, and his face crumpled. “I—I waswrong. I was wrong to get you expelled. I shouldnae have done that.”
“All forgiven.” His chest swelled and pulsed. “I dinnae hate you anymore.”
Neil’s gaze dragged up to Lachlan. “And I dinnae hate you.”
Lachlan nodded. “I knew that the moment you met my boat yesterday. You could have turned in Cilla without telling me. But you told me first.”
“You love her.” Not a question. A statement.
He could deny it. Should deny it. Admitting it would take a great amount of trust. And trust would prove forgiveness more than words could. “Aye. I love her very much.”
“She loves you too.”
Lachlan cringed. “I hope not.”
“Are you daft, man?”
Lachlan shook his head heavily. “We cannae be together. I cannae tell you why, but we cannae be together.”
Compassion washed over Neil’s face. “I’m sorry.”
