I watch as she swallows once more before pulling her shoulders back straight. When her dark eyes meet mine, they glisten.
“In our bed.” She tips back her head with a delicate, watery laugh.
That feckless fucker. I always thought there was something unsavoury, something sleazy about the man, but to fuck another woman in your marital bed?
That probably makes me a hypocrite. Or perhaps it doesn’t count, considering my wife was part of what went on in ours.
“I will fucking destroy him.” There is no way she should feel one iota of embarrassment and screw her sense of propriety because I’m immediately on my feet, pulling her flush to my chest. “I promise you.”
“Best not to.” Her brightly delivered words are muffled against my chest. “He is the father of my children.”
“He should’ve thought about that before he—”
“No.” Isla covers my mouth with her hand. “Don’t say it out loud. Not now. I don’t want them to ever find out. They deserve better parents than we had.”
“They have one,” I affirm, taking her hands in mine. “They have you.”
“Promise me, Sandy. Promise me you won’t get involved. It will only ever come down to money for him, not love.”
“I’m not going to stand by and let him ruin you.”
“Oh, I’m not ruined. Those are my plans for him. I’ve already instructed the lawyers, and they can take it from here.”
“And the boys? Have you told them?”
“Not yet, but I will. They think he’s overseas on business.”
“I take it because he hasn’t bothered to try to see them,” I answer, hoping for the opposite. They deserve so much more than we had with our father.
“I told him he mustn’t call. Not yet. I don’t trust him.” Whatever she sees on my face prompts her to demand a promise from me. “Say it, Sandy. Promise me you won’t get involved.”
“I promise I’ll take my cues from you.” For now, at least. “So, Holland came to Kilblair as your nanny?”
“No, not even.” Isla laughs, dropping to the sofa arm again. “Sarah rang me from the agency. She knew we were looking for someone for the education centre.”
“We were?” I take my place on the sofa arm this time. If Chrissy comes in, we’ll both be in trouble.
Arms aren’t for arses, I can almost hear her say.
“Anne went on maternity leave. She probably won’t return. Anyway,” she adds, pushing a harried hand through her hair. “I employed Holland after Sarah interviewed her and spoke with her previous employers. And then I badgered her into helping me out with the boys.”
“In addition to running the education centre?”
“Yes, but you’re paying her for that. I’m paying her salary for helping me.”
“I don’t care about that—I don’t care about any of it.”
“But you care about her?” she asks carefully. “Or is it . . . something else?” Something else like casual fucking she means. “Because I need her, Sandy. I won’t have you frightening her off.”
“A minute ago, you were threatening to send her to live with the Duffys, and now you’re telling me she’s indispensable?”
“Yes, she is. And while we’re speaking about the children, the school told me Thomas hadn’t paid the school fees for two terms until you stepped in. Thank you,” she adds simply.
“I didn’t take over for him,” I mutter uncomfortably.
“No, but he came to you, didn’t he? Has he tried to involve you in his schemes?”
“Don’t worry, Izzy. It’s fine.”
“Please tell me you haven’t.” She presses a hand to her mouth, almost as though to prevent her troubles from spilling out.
“I haven’t. I told him I’d pay the school fees, and that was it.” And set the wheels into motion to make sure he gets no support from anyone else I know. At least until I found out from Isla what the hell was going on. And now I know.
“Well, that’s something,” she murmurs, her arm dropping to her side as though it were made of lead.
“What about the rest? Has he asked you for money from your trust fund?” Our mother left her small trust fund on her death. Money she was able to keep from our father.
“Oh, Sandy. I gave him that years ago. There’s nothing left. The mortgage is in arrears, and my Range Rover was about to be repossessed. So getting back to Holland, yes, she’s indispensable. She has entertained the boys, taken them to the cinema and for ice cream so I could deal with this mess, visit the bank, and so on. She’s basically taken over the school run and homework and all that entails. Meanwhile, I have begun to get my family back on their feet. Thomas excluded, obviously. His cock-ups are his own. And that’s in addition to tweaking some things here and running my own business, I might add.”
Isla has a clothing line of Scottish fashion. E-commerce. I’ve teased her that it’s mostly tweed and sheepskin products for middle-aged matrons, but I know it’s doing well since it has recently broken even. But she doesn’t take a salary, as far as I know.