A frown pulled at her brow. ‘You can’t possibly blame yourself for Robbie’s problems. You were left by your mother too and you didn’t go off the rails.’
Logan gave her a grim look. ‘I do blame myself. I was too lenient with him then and after our father died. Robbie was only fourteen and full of raging hormones and risk-taking behaviour, which was part puberty and part acting out his grief. My grandfather was too controlling with him and I tried to make up for it in other ways. It was a mistake to swing back too far the other way. I should’ve tried a more balanced approach.’ He made a self-deprecating sound and added, ‘I’m definitely not cut out for parenthood. Not with all the mistakes I’ve made with my brother.’
Layla leaned forward in her chair, her expression etched with concern. ‘Logan, you’re not to blame. I think you’ve been an amazing older brother. And you would make an amazing father. Robbie hasn’t made great choices along the way but you’ve done nothing but support him and encourage him to make better ones. Even the way you’ve put your own life on hold to save Bellbrae is proof of that. It’s not just your heritage that would’ve been lost but his as well. I know how your mind works—by marrying me you’re ultimately protecting him from the shame of losing his family’s ancestral home in a poker game.’ She picked up her wineglass and sat back in her chair. ‘And I admire you for it.’
Logan gave a twisted smile. ‘Let’s hope you still admire me after you’ve lived with me for a year.’
Something passed over her features—a shadow in her quickly averted gaze, the flicker of a tiny muscle near her cheek, a flattening of her mouth. ‘That works both ways.’ Her voice dropped half a semitone in pitch. ‘Let’s hope we remain friends.’
Logan raised his glass in a toast. ‘To staying friends.’
LATER THAT NIGHT back at the villa after dinner, Layla joined Logan for a nightcap in the sitting room before going to bed. She found herself reluctant to allow the evening to end. She had learned so much about Logan over dinner—what motivated him, what drove him, what tortured him. She had revealed things about herself too, and hadn’t felt as uncomfortable about doing so as she’d thought she would. There were still some things she didn’t feel comfortable revealing—she couldn’t imagine a time when she ever would. To anyone.
‘Here we go,’ Logan said, handing her a small glass with Cointreau on ice. ‘One nightcap.’
‘I really don’t need any more alcohol,’ Layla said. ‘But since this is kind of a holiday…’
One side of his mouth tipped up in a half-smile. ‘I bet you haven’t had one of those in a while.’
‘Like you can talk, Mr Workaholic.’ Layla took a sip of her drink, giving him a wry look over the rim of her glass.
He sat on the sofa opposite hers and crossed one ankle over his other knee, one arm draped over the back of the sofa, the other holding his brandy and dry. ‘Yes, well, I’ve never been much good at relaxing.’ He took a sip of his drink, held it in his mouth for a brief moment before swallowing.
Layla kicked off her shoes and tucked her good leg underneath her, making sure her scars on her other leg were covered by her pantsuit trousers. ‘When was your last holiday?’
A small frown carved into his forehead and he stared at the contents of his glass. ‘I sometimes take an afternoon off when I’m away on a project.’
‘An afternoon?’ Layla snorted. ‘Even I’ve managed better than that. I had a couple of weekends off in a row three months back.’
His lazy half-smile was back and it made something in her stomach slip. ‘Go, you.’ His voice was low and husky, his sapphire-blue eyes as dark as a midnight sky. ‘Did you do anything special on those weekends off?’
Layla gave a laugh. ‘Okay, you’ve got your gotcha moment. I did paperwork while I watched movies and ate pizza.’
His gaze was unwavering, his smile mesmerising. ‘Looks like we both need lessons in how to relax.’
There was a sudden change in the atmosphere and Layla was the first to look away. Or maybe it was where her mind was taking her—to long, sleepy, relaxing lie-ins after making love. Her head resting on Logan’s chest, his fingers playing with her hair, their legs entwined. That would be a good way to relax, surely? She sipped some more of her drink and hoped her cheeks weren’t looking as hot as they felt.
‘How about we stay on a few extras days here?’ Logan said. ‘We could explore some of the other islands. That is, if you can juggle your work commitments.’
Layla kept looking at the ice cubes in her glass rather than meet his gaze. An extended holiday in Hawaii would surely involve wearing a swimsuit, swimming, being surrounded by beautiful unscarred bodies on the beach. She could hardly relax under those circumstances. She would be waiting in dread for the whispered comments, the sideways glances, the What happened to you? questions. She leaned forward to put her glass on the coaster on the table in front of her. ‘I don’t know… Don’t you have to check out your project in Tuscany?’
‘It can wait a few more days.’
Layla could have used her work commitments as an excuse to get back to Scotland but the temptation to spend more time here with Logan was too hard to resist. She only had to send a couple of emails or make a few calls to make sure everything was ticking along efficiently with her cleaning business. She had some reliable staff who were more than capable of standing in for her. Why shouldn’t she relax and enjoy herself for once? ‘I guess it would be nice to see a bit more of Hawaii before we go home.’
‘I’ll make the arrangements.’
Layla tried but failed to disguise a yawn. ‘Who knew eating and drinking could be so exhausting?’ She carefully unfolded her leg from beneath her and rose from the sofa. ‘I think I’ll turn in. Thanks for a lovely dinner and…everything.’
He gave one of his rare smiles. ‘You’re welcome.’
Logan sat back and finished his drink once Layla had gone off to bed, wondering if he’d done the right thing in suggesting they extend their stay. He had originally planned to fly in and fly out once they were officially married. But he’d thought a few extra days might help both of them get used to their new circumstances before they went back to Bellbrae. Living together as man and wife, even on paper, was going to take some considerable adjustment, especially if they were to do it as authentically as they could by sharing the west tower suite. Besides, they were both hard workers who rarely took a break.
But her initial reluctance to stay on for a few extra days made him wonder if it was not so much about spending time with him that troubled her but something else. The beach environment? Or maybe it was both. Not everyone enjoyed the beach, especially those with fair complexions like Layla, but he had seen her looking at other swimmers and sunbathers with a wistful look on her face.
His memory snagged on something…a memory from way back to when she had been a young teenager, not long after she had come to live with his family. He seen her watching him swim on the loch at Bellbrae. He’d pretended not to notice as he hadn’t wanted to make her feel uncomfortable, but he’d been aware of her