Betrayed (Wild Mountain Scots, #4)

Lia

I drove into central Inverness and reached the ornate building, my lip curled in disgust. Max had chosen one hell of a location for our discussion today.

Glenside Hotel, where I’d previously stayed when visiting the city with Dad. Where I’d apparently had sex with a stranger in the gardens outside.

If I’d thought this second meeting could go better than the first, I was a moron.

Stalking through the lobby, I entered the bar. In one corner, a couple chatted over coffees, but there was no Max in sight. Nor had his motorbike been outside.

I ordered tea then crossed the old-fashioned room, my Vans silent on the thick-pile carpet. Outside the window, abandoned tables sat in the pub garden. I folded my arms and stared at the place I’d believed I’d last seen Max.

Flashes of that scene hit me, and goosebumps rose on my skin.

Yesterday, he’d described me as having stabbed him in the back. His version of the truth was so far from mine, I couldn’t make the two meet.

“Scene of the crime,” a voice said in my ear.

I twisted around. Max folded his arms, staring at me.

For a long second, neither of us spoke, then he tilted his head at the window. “Bring back memories?”

“Fuck you,” I bit back.

This morning, Evie had woken at four AM and declined to go back to sleep. Usually, she was a good traveller. In that, she had no choice. Which only meant she was picking up on my mood and anxiety.

Coupled with the fact I’d been unable to get to sleep in the first place, exhaustion dug its claws in deep.

Max could go to hell if he thought he could treat me like shit today.

The bartender appeared beside us and ended our stand-off. He gestured with a tray of tea things. “Where are ye sitting?”

“I’ll take it.” Max offloaded him and waited on me.

I sighed and moved to a booth at the end of the room. We sat either side of the polished wooden table, neither saying a word.

After a beat, the bartender reappeared with another cup. “I didnae realise ye meant tea for two,” he said in an accent so thick I barely understood him. “There’s enough in the pot for both of ye, but shout if ye want another.”

I thanked the man then swirled the hot teapot, giving myself something to do.

Max reclined, the picture of not giving a fuck.

He’d brought the attitude today, but the dark stains under his eyes suggested his sleep had been as bad as mine. A white bandage peeked out from under his sleeve of a different leather jacket, this one black with white stripes down one side of his chest. His other had been torn in the accident, and I wondered how badly he’d been hurt.

Still, screw him. This was his idea. His suggestion of a location.

I knew exactly what he was doing.

“I saw you the minute I walked into this room,” I said, forcing my tone light. “You were at the bar, alone, with a pint of beer in your hand. I’d never seen you drink before so, for a little while, I just watched you. It messed with my head that you’d come back. The way you’d left made me sure I’d never see you again. But there you were.”

Max shifted in his seat, his smirk dying.

“My heart was hammering so hard, but I walked up to you and took the glass and sipped from it. You grinned at me, and then I understood. You’d got drunk in order to see me again. You wanted to say goodbye on a happier note.”

“Stop,” he said.

Not happening. He brought me here, he was hearing me out.

“I’d had a glass of wine with Dad over dinner, and the music was so loud from the hotel’s party. You downed the rest of the pint and led me to the dance floor. Then I was in your arms and so happy.”

“Lia, ye dinna need—”

“Yes, I do,” I snapped, suppressing my rising emotion. “For the longest time, you just held me, and then we kissed. Everything was different. Your whole attitude. Your taste. I figured that was the beer. Then we were outside in the dark, and your hands were in my hair then reaching for my skirt.”

“Enough,” Max growled. “Spare me that. We both know what happened next.”

“You asked for this.” I lowered my voice, tension gathering fast.

Under the table, my fingers trembled, and waves of unhappiness rolled as dark clouds between me and the guy who’d forced me into this.

“Against the far wall out there, in a dark corner, you fucked me. It was fast and impersonal, and I was so confused by it that I ran. You used me, or maybe I used you. Either way, it ended us on a note of nothingness. Exactly how you intended to go on.”

White-knuckled, Max pushed up from the booth and stalked away.

My heart hurt. The headache that had been building all morning pounded. I hated him for choosing to meet me here. Probably as much as he hated me for telling him exactly what went down and how I’d interpreted his actions.

I’d tried to consider that last night an act of love. A kinder goodbye.

On no planet was I willing to accept that it hadn’t been him. Even though I’d met his twin, that man was a stranger. Not someone I knew intimately.

Not Max.

My tremble subsided, and I sensed the weight of interest on me. I peered around. The bartender and the other couple jerked their gazes away and onto their own business.

With another sigh, I poured myself a tea and tried not to remember a second more of what hurt too much to dwell on.

I was near the bottom of the cup when Max reappeared.

Red-eyed, he threw himself into the opposite seat and grabbed the teapot, pouring himself a cup. He drank it black. If I cared, I’d have offered him something else.

“I talked to Maddock last night,” he said, focus on the window, not me. “For all you’re refusing to admit it was him, ye need to hear this. He used a condom. Bairn’s probably not his. Ye should know.”

Probably.

The word met a wall in my mind. Nope. Evie was Max’s daughter.

I shrugged by way of an answer, and we lapsed into a barbed-edged silence.

For a long time, I’d dreamt of this opportunity. Of having the ability to look Max in the eye and tell him every detail of my pregnancy, of the day Evie was born. Of the first time she rolled over, of when she’d toddled her first steps into my waiting arms. He needed to know her comic little personality, the brilliance of her smile, how beautiful she was.

A dark shadow passed over my mind at the memory of her therapist’s assessment. My daughter was perfect. I didn’t care what anyone else said.

Though I’d hated Max’s rejection, raising Evie had been a joy.

“Who’s the person who supposedly came to see me?” Max asked out of the blue.

I trained my attention back on him. “A relative of mine.”

“That never happened. I told ye yesterday, but ye didnae believe me. Nobody came. No letter was delivered. Nothing. Think of me what ye like, but I’d never have ignored ye if I knew.”

The will to believe him hit me strong. Except that was too hard a stretch. I pursed my lips. “Maybe she spoke to your brother instead.”

“Nope. In the fucking weirdest scenario, I texted him this morning to ask.”

Max brought out his phone, navigated through screens, then showed it to me.

I squinted at the exchange.

Max: This is going to sound insane, but did a woman come to talk to you about Lia being pregnant?

Madds: Why the fuck would that happen?

Max: If she thought you were me. Apparently, someone came to the estate.

Madds: No. For fuck’s sake. I would’ve told you. No matter how bad things got.

It was surreal, this conversation and the fact he’d had to ask his twin this question, yet it didn’t help make anything clearer.

“Fine,” I replied, though it was anything but.

Max raised his eyebrows. “Why didn’t ye contact me yourself?”

“I tried to. You blocked me online.”

“Aye. Ye wouldn’t fight for me. I couldn’t handle random messages from ye,” he shot back.

My breathing came in a shudder. I wished beyond belief that I could be immune to him. Hating him had been easy once I’d gotten over the shock of my great-aunt’s news. Boys were fickle, Dad would say. Sloped-shouldered when it came to responsibility. Max’s behaviour only proved him right.

And yet now…

I couldn’t help but believe him.

“It was my father’s aunt who visited you,” I offered. “I have her details and tried to call her last night. I’ll see her today.”

“I want to go with ye,” Max demanded.

Maybe I should’ve expected that, that he’d want to clear his name himself. If I was confused over my two sides of the story, he’d had less than twenty-four hours to get to grips with his.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “She lives in Fort Augustus.”

“An hour from here.”

“Fine. Let’s go.”

I drew myself up from my seat, but he remained in place.

“Can I meet her? Evie, I mean.”

He didn’t make eye contact as he spoke, and I was glad. Because his request punched me in the gut, and desperation flashed through my body. It would be written all over my face.

I’d only ever wanted this. For him to ask that question.

No matter the time that had passed, and the circumstances we were now in, the basic need for him to see what we’d made together dominated everything.

“Sure. We’ll go there first,” I mumbled, but my voice broke over the words.

Max’s gaze shot to mine, and I schooled my features.

Snatching up my bag, I pulled out my car keys. “Follow me on your bike,” I managed. Then I left the bar without looking back.