Page 59 of Scotlander

Finn’s head started buzzing again as Colin pulled out a stack of possibilities fresh from the estate agents. All of which would meet Orla and Dougie’s criteria. A modern home. A granny annexe for Duncan. Close to the same schools, the same shops, the same amateur dramatics society. ‘Their lives would, essentially, remain unchanged. The only thing they wouldn’t have, of course, is Balcraigie Castle Farm.’

‘That’s the rub, isn’t it?’

‘Aye,’ agreed Colin. ‘’Tis.’

‘What if we get the tattie crop in?’

‘If – and I know you know it’s a big if, Finlay – if you do . . . you’ll have bought yourself a reprieve until the next calamity.’ He tapped the sheaf of papers again. ‘You can make this happen. Orla can’t. Ball’s in your court, son.’

‘Aye, right. Okay, then.’ Finn pushed the chair back and rose, gave Colin a brisk handshake. ‘Thanks for that, Mr Robertson.’

‘Colin, son. I’ve known you since you were a bairn. I think we’re free to be on a first-name basis now that you’re carrying your father’s mantle.’

Finn shot him a sharp glance, trying to figure out if he’d meant anything beyond the obvious.

No. It had just been a comment.

‘Right you are. Thank you. I’ll be in touch.’

‘Don’t leave it too long, Finlay.’

‘No, no.’ He was already at the doorway, lifting one hand in farewell and pulling up the livestock auctioneer’s phone number with the other. ‘We’ll speak soon. Dinnae worry.’

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lachlan approached Gabe at exactly the same moment Willa did. Oh boy. Cock blocks at dawn, was it?

She turned to go.

‘Willa, wait.’ Gabe held up a hand, then asked, ‘Lachlan, give us a few minutes, will you?’

Lachlan demurred with a hand on his chest and a half bow. Bloody zen-yoga-hipster-beardy type. Not that any of this was Lachlan’s fault. Or Gabe’s. It was entirely her fault that she’d decided the only reason Val had sent them on this trip was to fall deeply and irrevocably in love. Having Finn run for the hills had just been some extra delicious rejection icing on the cake.

‘C’mere.’ Gabe crooked his arm for Willa to take and then, to Lachlan, ‘You wouldn’t mind hunting down those tools we needed, would you, Lach? I’m just going to show Wills what we’ve been up to.’

‘Good idea.’ Lachlan smiled his benign, Dalai Lama smile and jogged off.

A part of her hoped he would trip, but her karma was already down the pooper, so she willed him a graceful journey to the tool shed. Why make things worse than they already were?

‘You okay?’ Gabe asked once they were out of the courtyard and heading towards the castle ruins.

‘Yeah,’ she lied. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘Willa. It’s me. You can admit to being upset.’

‘I told you!’ she screeched. ‘Not upset! Finn’s his own person. Who am I to try to tie a Highlander down? Besides’ – this little speech of hers was quite freeing – ‘he underestimated me, my intellect and my rather impressive farming skills on the basis that I interview celebrities for a living, so frankly, I was hoping he wouldn’t turn up today. This is a win. One hundred per cent. I mean, the man thought I thought cows ate Oreos.’ She fuzzed out a raspberry. ‘McJackass.’

He gave her a look.

‘Okay, fine. I’m a little bit narked.’ She pinched the teensiest bit of air between her fingers.

‘You really are handling it with grace.’ Gabe feigned a look of admiration.

‘Impressive, huh?’ She gave a smug little shoulder shimmy and shot him a smile, hoping it communicated to him how grateful she felt for the space to hurtle from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other.

‘Well, for what it’s worth,’ Gabe said, ‘it’s his loss, and although I know you’ve had other invitations, you are very welcome to join me and Lachlan.’

‘Ohhhh, no. That’s cool. You two have got your whole reunion thang going on.’