Drake handed his middle-aged secretary, Cathleen, some files to put away on the way out of his office on Friday after lunch.
‘You’re leaving early,’ Cathleen said, looking up from her computer. ‘Have you got something special planned for the weekend?’
‘No.’ He wasn’t comfortable lying to his secretary, nor was he comfortable calling a weekend away in Scotland with Aerin Drysdale a special event. Even though it was. Big time. He had never been alone with her before, or at least not for that length of time. But he was confident he could keep the boundaries in place. He had drawn a line in his head and he was not stepping over it. He couldn’t.
Cathleen cocked her head at him, her whisky-brown eyes curious. ‘This early mark hasn’t got anything to do with Aerin Drysdale’s visit the other day, has it?’
Drake’s eyebrows snapped together. ‘You recognised her?’
Cathleen smiled. ‘But of course. She planned my niece’s wedding last year. She did an amazing job of it too. Gillian hardly had to do a thing but show up on time at the church. I hadn’t met Aerin in person, but I recognised her from Gillian’s photos. I’ve spoken to her on the phone a couple of times when she’s booked an appointment for a client with you. She’s beautiful in a rather understated way, isn’t she?’
He gave a non-committal grunt. ‘Passable, I suppose.’
The last thing he wanted to think about was how naturally beautiful Aerin Drysdale was. He had no interest in compromising his relationship with her older brother by having a dalliance with her. It was an unspoken bro code, and he was going to do everything in his power to hold to it. Besides, he didn’t do virgins or get involved with women who wanted the fairy tale.
Cathleen’s eyes danced and her smile widened. ‘You’ve known her a long time, right? Weren’t you best man at her brother’s wedding a few years ago?’
‘That was the first and last time I’ll be standing at an altar,’ Drake said with heavy conviction. ‘You and I both know how often supposedly happy couples end up here a few years later hating their exes and wanting out one way or the other.’
Cathleen’s shoulders went down on a sigh. ‘But some couples do make it and that’s what everyone wants really, isn’t it? To love and be loved for the rest of their life.’
Drake had witnessed ‘love’ in various guises as a child. Obsessive love. Possessive love. Abusive love. Love that taunted and tortured and destroyed those to whom it was directed. But there was no way he would ever reveal the dark shadows of his childhood to his secretary or anyone else for that matter. Even his closest friend, Tom Drysdale, didn’t know the ugly truth about his background. He didn’t want to fall passionately in love as his parents had. He resisted it, rejected it, spurned it as if it were a deadly disease.
For in his family of origin, that was exactly what it had turned out to be—deadly.
Aerin had arranged via text message to meet Drake at the airport, but he texted back that he would pick her up himself at her flat. He had never been to her home before, only to her family’s residence in Buckinghamshire. She sent him her address and waited for him to arrive with her stomach twitching with sudden nerves.
She was effectively lying to her school friends about her ‘relationship’ with Drake. She wasn’t the most convincing liar on the planet but what else could she do now? She had already told them she was bringing her new partner. The excitement her announcement elicited on the group chat was off the charts. The fact that she had insisted on them keeping it a secret had only fuelled their interest and delight. It was too late to back out now, she had to go through with it no matter what. But every time she thought of Drake her body shivered and her heart raced. Had she made a mistake in asking him rather than a stranger?
Aerin paced the sitting room floor as the time for Drake to arrive approached, her hands twisting in front of her body.
You are spending the weekend with Drake Cawthorn.
Her pulse began to pick up its pace, her palms moistening in panic. What if she wasn’t able to pull off the charade? What if she ended up being exposed as a liar and a fraud?
There was a soft knock on the door and she opened it with an overly bright smile on her face. But it wasn’t Drake standing there but her elderly Scottish neighbour, Mr McPhee, who lived opposite. His equally elderly dog, Mutley, was at his feet, wagging his shaggy tail from side to side and looked up at her through rheumy eyes not unlike his owner’s. Mutley had probably been adorably cute in puppyhood but as a senior he had developed some bald patches on his rough coat. He was of indiscriminate breeding and short and stout with stumpy legs and with a black patch over one eye like a pirate. One of his ears pointed up, the other folded down and his jaw was out of line, the bottom overshot like a drawer that hadn’t been closed properly. Oh, and he had terrible breath and farted. A lot.
‘Oh, hello, Mr McPhee. Hi, Mutley. I’m just heading out for the weekend. Did you want me for something?’
‘Sorry to bother you, lass, but do you have a wee cup of sugar? I seem to have run out.’ Mr McPhee’s expression was sheepish and Aerin knew from experience he didn’t need the sugar as much as he needed human contact. Widowed eight years ago, he was close to ninety and had no relatives living nearby, or at least, none who visited regularly. He often popped over for a cup of tea and a chat and she enjoyed his company for he reminded her of her maternal grandfather, who was also a proud Scot.
‘Of course. Do you want to come in while I get it? I have some of those treats Mutley likes so much.’
‘I don’t want to take up your time. Where are you off to for the weekend?’
‘Erm... Scotland, actually.’
Mr McPhee shuffled into her flat with Mutley waddling beside him. ‘Och, now then, that will be good for you, although November’s not the best time. Cold and grey and wet. You might even get a flurry of snow. It wouldn’t be the first time.’
‘I know but it’s a high school reunion, so we’ll be inside most of the time.’ Aerin bent down to give Mutley a doggy treat, and then went to her small pantry for the sugar.
There was another knock on the door, firmer this time and her heart gave a skip. ‘Erm, will you excuse me for a moment? That’s my lift here to collect me.’
Aerin went to the front door and opened it to find Drake standing there dressed casually for travelling in jeans and a roll-neck cashmere sweater and a black, butter-soft leather jacket. She gave him a nervous smile. ‘I’m just helping my neighbour with something. I won’t be long.’
Just then, Mr McPhee shuffled out of the kitchen with Mutley close behind, the dog’s long claws click-clacking on the polished floorboards until he got to the carpet runner. ‘Is this your beau, lass? About time, I say.’ Mr McPhee thrust out his hand to Drake. ‘Hamish McPhee.’
Drake grasped the older man’s hand. ‘Drake Cawthorn. Pleased to meet you, Mr McPhee.’