Along the dim interior corridor of Patterson House, a decaying college building in Inverness, I walked, my arms full of paperwork and my tablet. Rupert, my boss, had changed the location of our meeting to his private office and, despite it being mid-afternoon, disquiet hung over me.
Work was where multiple odd events had happened from the increasingly long list. My stolen coat bugged me the most. My mother had bought it for me, and it was perfectly tailored and a stunning deep purple. No one could wear that without me noticing.
Other, lesser happenings, like my lunch being taken, bothered me less. Maybe someone had made a mistake. My emails being opened before I’d had a chance to read them could’ve been a technology glitch.
Or it could be a pattern.
My nerves zipped with energy where I was giving myself the creeps. I blew out a breath and strode on.
Behind me, a clunk sounded. The windowless corridor plunged into darkness at my back. This part of the building was empty with the students away, but the motion sensors should keep the lights on.
A footstep thudded.
A glance over my shoulder revealed nothing, yet my pulse jumped.
I hustled faster, my heels clicking on the tiles.
Overhead, the lights failed, too. Now in almost complete darkness, I spun around. Another footstep fell, loud yet the owner invisible.
Someone was coming.
The hair on the back of my neck rose. Sweat broke out on my brow.
“Hello?” I called.
No reply.
I took a quick breath and kept moving, passing gaping, empty rooms. With every step, my wariness grew. My shoulders bunched automatically, and I could almost sense the touch of a stranger from the dark. Grasping me with a bruising grip. Hauling me through one of the doors along the route.
God, this was freaking me out.
With my papers clutched to my chest, I peered back again, not stopping. Still nothing but the tapping echo.
A door slammed.
I let out a shriek and took off, sprinting to the faint light at the end of the corridor. With a burst of energy, I flung myself into the stairwell and stared back.
An empty hall yawned.
No one pursued me.
My heart banged into my ribs, my breathing coming hard. Fuck. What the hell was that? My imagination or worse?
I set my jaw and swung to hit a fist to the manual light switches this end of the corridor. The overheads sprang to life.
“There,” I called into the empty space, feeling ridiculous. “Do ye think you’re funny? Come on out, if ye dare.”
Nothing moved, and my bravery slipped.
I turned and jogged the two flights of stairs to the office suite.
Jill, Rupert’s PA, waited at her desk. This woman had never once smiled or been friendly to me, but boy was I happy to see her. She peered up and gave me a slow once-over. Her blonde bob had the slick shininess of a fresh hairdressing appointment. I half considered complimenting her, but she’d probably sneer.
The fear in me receded, and I forced my mind back to the business of the day.
“Hi, Jill. Is Rupert in?” I said in a rush.
“You booked this meeting, didn’t you? Mr Gaskill is waiting.”
Okay then. I thanked her and pressed the office door aside, leaving it slightly ajar behind me.
Rupert lifted his head from his screen. “Caitriona. Thank you for coming.”
“Just Cait, please.” I’d told him this a hundred times. Few people used my full first name, and I didn’t want him to be one of them.
He gestured to the door. “Could you close us in? What we have to discuss might be…private. Better not to have anyone overhear.”
Ugh. I obliged then took a seat.
Rupert rounded the desk and settled into the chair right next to me.
His knee touched mine, the smooth material of his brown suit trousers brushing on my tights.
As subtly as I could, I shrank back.
“Your email from last week,” he started, his Birmingham accent making his words friendlier than I suspected they’d be. “I know at the time I acknowledged the request, and of course you have the right to pursue this avenue, should you choose, however, I wouldn’t feel I was doing my duty to you as your employer if I didn’t offer the best of my advice.”
Oh God. I’d informed Rupert, the other managers, and HR, that I’d need time out for appointments with the fertility clinic. It was part of the maternity terms and conditions, and I was entitled to the leave.
No part of my message invited discussion.
“That email was a notification only,” I said firmly.
“I understand, and parenthood is a blessing. One that shouldn’t be entered into lightly. Cait, we’ve known each other for a number of years now. You joined us as a fresh-faced graduate, and you’re still very young…”
He left the sentence trailing, like I should take something from his words.
“I’m sorry, was that a question?”
Rupert put his hand on the arm of my chair and inched forward.
Shite.
My discomfort deepened, and heat prickled me, returning in a rush from my earlier scare. I leaned back farther.
“I have two children,” he said, his eyes wide. “Beautiful. I pride myself on how well-made they are.”
Well-made? Was this guidance? Or…an offer?
“Both are bright. My son is strong-willed but dutiful. My daughter always receives compliments on her pretty face and lovely hair.”
“Why are ye telling me this?”
“Caitriona, it’s important for you to understand that you have options. Children don’t always turn out how you expect, no matter the planning. My brother, for example—”
I stopped listening, caught on the word ‘options’.
Abruptly, I stood, then slipped past Rupert to the door.
The urge to apologise came over me, and I forced it away. He’d made me uncomfortable, and I wasn’t at fault.
“Like I said, the email was a notification only. Thanks…” Don’t thank him. “I need to leave.”
Riding a wave of panic, I collected my possessions and exited. Jill stared from her desk, no doubt taking in my hot face, but I didn’t stop. Not for her, or for the other voice that hailed me as I left the building.
Whether my boss was or wasn’t my stalker, he’d just revealed an unhealthy degree of interest.
I marched straight back to my car and drove home, trying not to cry.
On my doorstep, a bunch of flowers lay propped against the door. I stopped in front of them, too alarmed to search for a note.
Had Rupert done this? Was it even him behind the weird acts? I clamped my hand to my mouth, nauseous.
Footsteps had me spinning around.
Lochinvar approached, a hand out. “Christ, lass, what’s wrong?”
Thank God.
Instant relief replaced the myriad other emotions. Which was strange, because after the drama he caused with yet another of my relatives last night, I ought to be annoyed.
An acute sense of safety warmed me instead.
I folded my arms against the intrusion. “Lochinvar. I wanted to talk to ye.”
He ran his gaze over me, lingering on my belly, then dug his fingers into his black hair. “Aye, I did with ye, too. Step aside, will ye?”
“What?”
He gestured for me to move, then when I did, he stooped and collected the bouquet. “Those are from me. And Isla, too. A thank ye and an apology.”
He held out the bunch of pretty, autumn-coloured blooms, and I stared.
“Those were from ye? Did ye think it might be a bad idea to leave them considering what I found at my home last week?”
He blinked, realisation dawning over his big features.
In a rush, my indignation returned. The events of the day had done a number on me, and I was ready to unleash it all. “While we’re here talking about bad manners, what the hell was that about last night? Ye launched at my cousin, were rude to him, and yet again inserted yourself into my business.”
The enormous mountain man drew a heavy breath. “I know.”
“Do ye really? Seems to me ye bulldoze your way through situations however ye please.”
“It had been a tough evening, the rescue a difficult one. Forget that. I have no excuse.”
I didn’t want him to be reasonable. I was fed up, but more, my blood zinged with increasingly frantic energy. Some new sensation I couldn’t understand but which urged me to continue this fight.
The last thought brought me up short. I had no reason to quarrel with this man. None at all. His crazy acts simply put him into a category of people I wouldn’t be friends with. I pulled back my shoulders.
“I get that we have to be neighbours, and I’m more than happy to look after your daughter, but I’d appreciate it if ye left me alone from now on.”
My chest heaved, and Lochinvar’s gaze darkened.
A moment passed between us where tension rose, tangible and warm. I flitted my gaze from Lochinvar’s piercing eyes to his clenched jaw. The way he looked at me…
He proffered the bouquet once more, and I gritted my teeth.
I was so sick of men offering me things I didn’t ask for or need. My rational mind completely left me. “Do ye know what ye can do with those flowers?”
Lochinvar’s eyebrows rose, and he burst out with an amused chuckle.
He laughed? Oh hell no.
I spun on my heel and entered my home, slamming the door behind me.
For the next several days, my wish was granted. Whenever I saw Lochinvar outside the cottages, he’d dip his head in acknowledgement but not speak.
The intensity of his gaze didn’t let up, though.
Blayne dropped me a text to say Lochinvar had tracked him down and given him a well-worded apology. My cousin was easy-going but also a good judge of character. His description of my neighbour as a ‘solid guy’ didn’t go unnoticed.
One evening, the school brought Isla to me. It was only an hour before her father appeared from the mountains, bringing the scent of the wild outdoors with him.
He ushered Isla into their home but paused on his doorstep.
Why was I still waiting? I stopped all the same.
“I ken ye don’t want me to make conversation, but if there’s ever anything ye need, go ahead and ask. You’ve helped me a lot, and I can do the same for ye.”
The calm of the past few days had mellowed me some. I had no clue what had prompted Lochinvar’s gesture, but it was kind. Neighbourly.
“I appreciate that. Thanks for the offer.” I gave him a quick smile. “Goodnight.”
No answer came, and I didn’t wait around for more.
