Betrayed (Wild Mountain Scots, #4)

Lia

A small flurry of text messages landed on my phone, and I pulled the apartment door closed, settling my rucksack on my back. Ahead of me, halfway down the steps, Evie tangled her hands in Scarlet’s hair. Max’s mother had invited us to take a walk to Cait’s house this afternoon.

It had been three days since I’d agreed with Max that we’d stay longer, but if anything, it felt like he was avoiding us.

Or maybe me specifically.

We’d had dinner at his parents’ home, short morning and evening visits, but no lengthy stays by Max.

Last night, the moment Evie was in bed, he’d headed for the door. But even then, he’d stalled in the frame, half in and half out, almost as if he couldn’t tear himself away.

Yet he had.

And I’d gone to bed early, equal parts frustrated and confused.

Not only that, but I’d had multiple missed calls from Felix with messages demanding that I needed to call him, fix plans for the autumn, confirm dates, and book flights.

I ignored them all.

My act of rebellion unnerved me, but I felt a million miles from that life. As if time had been suspended while I played visitor in Scotland.

This was probably him now, and I sighed, the reality of needing to leave squeezing in.

“I think someone’s trying to get hold of me,” I said to Scarlet.

The older woman waved a hand. “Go ahead and check. We’ll explore.”

Taking a seat on the bottom stone step, I found my phone from the depths of the bag.

The oldest message was from Max. How did ye name her?

But the long list of texts below came from someone else. Unknown number. I squinted at them, scrolling down. Message after message contained a summary of some disaster or another, a link pasted after. I read the first.

Location: France.

Category: political extremist.

Casualties averted: 32.

The link took me to a French newspaper’s website, where the brief article gave more detail on the event.

Recognition dawned. Dad had worked this case. I knew none of the specifics, but we were there on the date given.

But why would someone send this to me?

I read the next.

Location: Austria.

Category: hostage crisis (domestic).

Casualties averted: 12.

The rest of the articles, six in all, gave similar heroic-style write-ups of Dad’s work. None of them named him, citing police or government officials as the intervening force.

Puzzled, I hit reply.

Lia: Who are you, and why did you text this?

At the edge of the castle wall, Evie held her grandmother’s hand and picked up a pebble or maybe a snail. Something Scarlet cooed over.

I stared at them then tried to centre my thoughts. Maybe the texted stories were a message from my father. His importance had always cowed me. I didn’t need articles to remind me of that. He wasn’t happy that I’d come here, but he hadn’t attempted to stop me either.

He had a phrase, repeated to me regularly. Especially when it came time to make any life decisions. Life is short. Live great so that people will remember.

He’d challenge me with it and have me test my ideas against it. I’d wanted to take cookery classes once, at around the age of thirteen. My father had heard my request then played back his motto. I’d dropped my gaze to my feet and agreed that no one was remembered for cooking a great lasagne.

Right now, the reminder of how great he lived smarted.

In a fit of pique, I messaged my father.

Lia: If you want to communicate with me, call me yourself.

No reply came in from either source, and I tried to put the contact to the back of my mind then pocketed my phone and joined Evie and Scarlet.

At Cait’s, her elder daughter immediately took over management of Evie, with help from Scarlet, and started a ball game. With tea and cake, Cait and I settled into seats outside her pretty cottage to watch.

There had been a question I’d wanted to ask Cait since our first meeting, and after my weird morning, it burned at me now.

“Cait, you said something the other day that stuck in my mind. You said you’d got your degree but didn’t care if you never used it again.” I chewed my lip, unsure about how to word the next part.

How it didn’t align at all with Dad’s live great concept.

“Do ye think that’s a waste?” Cait asked with a grin.

“Oh no. I didn’t mean it like that,” I backtracked.

“It’s okay if ye did.” Ava dozed on her, and Cait adjusted her little daughter on her shoulder. “I went to university so I’d have a good enough education to afford to be a parent. At the time, I assumed I’d be a single mother. But that was my solitary ambition.”

Envy struck me hard. “To be a parent? Just that?”

Cait angled her head.

I slapped my hand to my mouth. “That came out wrong. It’s just an option I never considered. I was supposed to go to university when I found out I was pregnant, and I’ve deferred it for two years.”

My words dried up, and I floundered.

“And now you’re thinking how hard it will be to leave Evie?” Cait deduced.

Acute panic welled.

That was exactly it.

I hadn’t been able to verbalise that, and now…I felt like a traitor. Dad would think that a waste. My highly educated smart-as-a-whip mother had given up her life for me. To do anything but the very best for them was disrespectful.

And yet, what if Dad was the reason Max hadn’t known about Evie’s existence? My trust in him would evaporate into dust.

“Something like that,” I mumbled.

Max’s sister pursed her lips. “I always wanted to be a mother, and I’ve never been happier now that I am one. I want to have a big family with Lochie, to make babies, raise them, teach them, and love them. Lochie wants that, too, and he can support us, which makes us very lucky and perfectly matched. That wouldn’t fulfil everyone, but it does me. I had this conversation with Ma once I realised it at age seventeen. She runs her own business and balanced that with motherhood. I had the vague worry that she’d think I wasn’t living up to my potential. But Ma helped me realise that being a great parent is a calling as much as being a great worker. More, in many cases, because it means so much to the child. Ye only live one life, so if ye aren’t true to yourself, and you’re not living your own dreams, what’s the point?”

Ava wriggled, distracting Cait from her explanation.

I was glad, because that had hit me hard. Not just Cait’s happy existence, but the good advice she’d been given at such a tender age.

At only a little older than her, I’d been persuaded by Dad and his assistant that I couldn’t possibly be in love with Max. This hadn’t been the live great idea, but simple logic. You can’t fall in love in a month. Believing them, I’d put Max firmly in the holiday romance zone. A small blip of pleasure away from normal life.

But my life was anything but normal.

I’d mourned Max hard. Then I’d cried even more over his rejection of our baby.

That pain had been enough to kill dead the love I’d had. Or so I thought. Being with him now churned everything up.

Everything I thought I knew, and wanted, had been turned on its head.

His message from earlier popped back into my mind, asking how I’d named Evie. I found my phone, Cait now busy changing Ava.

Lia: Come by after work, and I’ll tell you all about it.

Max and I had agreed to honesty but were both holding back. I planned to end that, starting today.

“Cait, I need to ask a favour. Can you look after Evie for an hour or two later this afternoon?”

Cait peered over her shoulder and smiled. “If it helps ye work out what ye really want from your life, I’d love to.”