“It is.” Cilla smiled at his profile. “Scapa is a haven for all those sailors coming in from the sea.”
“Aye.” Lachlan didn’t meet her gaze.
Cilla’s smile wavered. The past two weekends, he’d scarcely looked at her or spoken to her. Not cold. Not angry. Not ignoring her. Just detached.
And it turned her inside out.
“I’m sure you dinnae mind such a cozy assignment.” A challenge twitched in the corner of Neil’s eye.
Lachlan raised half a smile. “I have yet to find a man who would call Scapa cozy.”
Cilla chuckled. “I can imagine. The weather alone ...”
“Aye.”
She wanted to shake him, make him look at her, talk to her, yell at her ... anything.
A great restlessness wiggled inside, and she directed it to the conversation. “Look at us. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, the days are growing longer, and the wind is even taking a Sabbath rest. And here we are, talking about the end of the world.”
Laugh lines spread around Mrs. Mackenzie’s brown eyes. “Aye. It’s a bonny day, a day the Lord has made.”
“Yes.” Cilla clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “Someone tell a funny story. Anyone. Lachlan, tell me something funny that happened this week.”
He folded the napkin in his lap. “I cannae think of anything.”
“Nothing? Nothing humorous at all?”
“No.” He set his napkin on the table and smiled at his mother. “I should take advantage of the bonny weather and escort Cilla home.”
“Oh.” She’d been dismissed, and she fought to keep the disappointment from her voice and face. Somehow she mustered a smile. “How time flies. Thank you again for your hospitality, Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie.”
“Haste you back, dearie. You are always welcome here.” Mrs. Mackenzie directed the last sentence to her eldest, with a hard tone.
Her eldest either didn’t hear or didn’t care.
After they put on hats and coats, they pedaled up the drive.
When they turned onto the road, Cilla’s frustration bubbled up and over. “Why won’t you talk to me?”
Lachlan’s bicycle wobbled, and he shot her a glance over his shoulder. “Pardon?”
Cilla pedaled hard so she could pull alongside him. “For the past fortnight, you can’t bear the sight of me, and you only say ‘aye’ or ‘no.’”
Lachlan’s lips folded in, and he kept pedaling with his head down.
A strangled cry erupted from Cilla’s throat. “For heaven’s sake, I preferred it when you hated me. At least you acknowledged my presence.”
His head jerked up to her, and his jaw fell slack.
“I know I made a fool of myself,” Cilla said through gritted teeth. “I ran away from Yardley, jumped in the water when you told me not to, and sniveled about my failings. I know you’ve lost all respect for me, but—”
“No,” he said in a gruff voice. “No, I havnae.”
“You haven’t? So why are you acting this way? I can’t bear it.”
Lachlan stopped his bike and planted his feet.
Cilla did the same.
