Logan put the sweater back in the box and closed the cardboard flaps, wishing he could close a lid on his guilt and regret. He hadn’t been as close to his grandfather as he should have been. But losing his father on the threshold of his own adulthood had made Logan resentful of his grandfather’s old-school parenting style. He hadn’t wanted his grandfather to be a stand-in dad. He’d wanted his father to still be alive. He’d resented the way his grandfather had tried to control every decision he made, everything he did and who he did it with. It had been suffocating and had only made him miss his father more.
It had hit Robbie even harder and Logan blamed himself for the way his younger brother had rebelled. Logan had been too lenient with him, allowing the pendulum to swing too far back the other way to compensate for his grandfather’s strict authoritarian style. But hadn’t he always been too lenient with Robbie? Ever since their mother had left, Logan had tried to fill the gaping hole she’d left in their lives. But, of course, he had failed.
What was with him and relationships? Why was he destined to screw up each and every one?
But maybe he could repair some of that damage by saving Bellbrae.
He had been straight with Layla on the terms of the deal. Brutally straight, but he was unapologetic for it. He had no intention of hurting her by giving her false hope. A marriage of convenience was the only way he could save his family’s home. A home Layla had loved from the moment she’d arrived to live with her great-aunt Elsie. If Logan thought his brother would do the right thing by Bellbrae he wouldn’t have bothered with the messy business of fulfilling the terms of the will.
But lately he’d become aware of Robbie’s gambling habit. A disturbing habit that had run up some eye-watering debt. Robbie saw Bellbrae differently from him. He didn’t have the same deep-in-the-DNA connection with the estate Logan had. Once his brother got hold of Bellbrae he would sell it to the highest bidder and walk away from the estate that had been in their family for centuries.
But selling Bellbrae wasn’t going to happen if Logan could help it. He would enter a short-term marriage to protect a long-term estate. To protect the legacy his father had handed to him on his deathbed.
‘Always do the right thing by Bellbrae.’
And he would do the right thing by Layla by making sure she had no illusions about their marriage from the get-go. He would pay her generously for her time as his wife. They would marry as friends and part as friends. He knew how much this place meant to her—how much she used it as a base when she wasn’t in Edinburgh, where she ran her small business. Any niggling of his conscience he settled with the conviction he was helping her in the long run. He was offering her a staggering amount of money to be his temporary wife.
How could she possibly say no?
‘BUT YOU HAVE to say no,’ Layla’s best friend Isla said on the phone later that evening. ‘You’ll get your heart broken for sure.’
‘But it will break my heart to see Bellbrae sold,’ Layla said. ‘This is the first real home I’ve ever had. I’ve spent the last fourteen years here—it’s made me who I am today. I can’t bear the thought of it going out of the McLaughlin family. It belongs to Logan. It was wrong of Angus to make his will in such a way.’
‘Do you know why Angus did it that way?’
Layla sighed so heavily her shoulders slumped. ‘Logan has made it pretty clear over the years that he has no intention of settling down again. Losing Susannah was such a terrible shock to him—as it would be to anyone. I’ve overheard a few conversations where Angus insisted Logan move on with his life but Logan isn’t someone you can tell what to do. Once his mind is made up, that’s it.’
‘So, he’s made up his mind to marry you in a marriage of convenience?’
Layla pulled at her top lip with her finger and thumb as she thought about her conversation with Logan in the north tower. ‘Yes, well, I think I kind of planted the idea in his head. But we both love Bellbrae and we both know how impulsive Robbie can be. He doesn’t love the place the same way we do. He thinks it’s boring and cold and too isolated. We have to stop him inheriting the estate even if it means giving up a year of our lives in a paper marriage.’
‘Are you sure it’s going to be on paper? Logan’s a full-blooded man. You’re a young and beautiful woman. Living together is going to test the boundaries surely?’
Layla affected a laugh. ‘Calling me beautiful is a bit of a stretch. Anyway, can you imagine him being attracted to me? I’m hardly what you’d call his type. I’m not anyone’s type.’
‘You’re way too hard on yourself,’ Isla said, echoing Logan’s words. ‘You shouldn’t let what happened in your teens colour how you see yourself now. But the whole friends-to-lovers thing can happen, you know. It doesn’t just happen in romance novels.’
‘I’m not sure how to describe our relationship,’ Layla said. ‘Friends is probably too generous a description. We’re distant and polite to each other. I sometimes think he doesn’t even register I’m around now that I’m an adult. I’m like part of the furniture.’
‘I just hope you don’t get hurt in the long run,’ Isla said. ‘I want you to be as happy as I am. I still can’t believe how wonderful it is to be married to Rafe, knowing he loves me more than anything. We’re both so excited about our Christmas baby.’
‘I’m excited about your baby too.’
It was hard not to feel envious of her best friend’s happiness. After a rough start, Isla and Rafe had finally come together again and were eagerly awaiting the birth of their ‘accidental’ baby. But would Layla’s marriage to Logan have an equally happy ending?
The odds were stacked against it and the sooner she got that straight and clear in her mind, the better.
Logan walked through the south garden at Bellbrae, the scattered leaves of the ancient deciduous trees crunching under his feet. The vivid reds and golds and bronze and yellows were like wild splashes of paint. The autumn air was crisp and redolent of the smell of cooling earth and leaf litter with a hint of the harsh winter to come. Each season at Bellbrae held its magic for him. The gardens and fields and Highlands beyond could be blanketed in white as thick as a pile of duvets and still stir him to the marrow. But unless Layla agreed to a marriage of convenience, he would have to say goodbye to this place. The land and home of his ancestors, the place where he felt deeply rooted to the estate as surely and securely as the ancient trees around him.
Logan waited for Flossie, his grandfather’s old Border collie, to keep up. She was sniffing around the tendon-like roots of an old oak tree. ‘Come on, Floss.’ He patted his hand against his thigh and the dog slowly waddled over to him, her tail wagging, her tongue hanging out of her mouth in spite of the chill in the air. He leaned down to scratch behind her ears, a pang jabbing him deep in his gut at the thought of what would happen to her if Robbie inherited the estate. The old dog would not cope with a move to another home and Robbie wouldn’t want to keep her.
Logan straightened from petting the dog and caught a glimpse of a slim figure walking through the archway of trees in the distance. With her wild chestnut hair and creamy skin and irregular gait, Layla looked as much a part of this landscape as heather on the Highlands. For years he had seen her moving about on the estate, reminding him of a faery or other mythic person. Touching her on the arm the day before had sent a shockwave of awareness through him—an awareness he found faintly