But his words floated back to her from that first night in the drawing room. And she didn’t believe in fairy tales any more either.
She and Farlan ‘worked’ here, in this remote little bothy, for the same reason they had ‘worked’ in his flat in Edinburgh. Because it wasn’t real life.
Only aged nineteen, and hopelessly in love, it had been hard for her to see the implications of that fact.
Her heart contracted. It was still hard to accept it aged twenty-six. And she hadn’t—not really, not willingly.
But last night in the cramped cabin of the Land Rover, and then again by the glow of the fire, she had been forced to admit—to herself anyway—that what they’d shared didn’t, and couldn’t ever, work in a real-world situation.
It was better to know that now, before it was too late.
Her chest was suddenly a muddle of pity and panic.
Like Catherine and Richard, her aunt and uncle.
When she was younger, they’d seemed like a fairy tale couple brought to life. Her aunt so beautiful and he an aspiring artist, with a sweet smile and a spaniel. And both so young.
Watching them together, she had been transfixed by the intensity of their love. And the fact that everyone else had been appalled had only seemed to make it all so much more romantic.
Against all opposition, they had married and quickly produced two children. But with bills to pay, and a family to support, Richard had stopped painting and taken a job at an art gallery in Dubai.
Nia shivered inside.
To say that he hated it would be understatement. He loathed it. And Catherine loathed her life in her air-conditioned mansion. And a lot of the time it felt as if they loathed each other too.
She so hadn’t wanted that to happen to her and Farlan, and that hadn’t changed.
More importantly, he hadn’t changed.
He might be a wealthy, successful film director, but he still didn’t understand her connection to her home, to Lamington.
‘And we are okay.’
His voice pulled her back and, looking up, she met his gaze. His eyes were clear and green.
‘It hurt both of us, the way it ended, and we needed to put that right.’ His thumb caressed her cheek. ‘Now we can put it behind us and move on.’
Move on.
He meant find someone else.
Her pulse quickened.
Someone he could lie beside in bed and hold as she slept.
Someone who made his heart beat faster when he saw her in a crowded room.
Someone to share his dreams.
Someone to love.
Staring out of the window, she let her eyes track across the landscape to the distant hills that edged the Kilvean estate, belonging to Lord Airlie.
She wanted that too.
She wanted to be with a man and know that she was his and he was hers and nothing could ever come between them.
‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘We can both move on.’