like—he’ll just show up unannounced and expect everyone to dance around him like some overgrown overly indulged teenager.’ He leaned his head back against the back of the sofa and released a frustrated sigh. ‘I wish I could go back in time and do things differently. I thought I was doing the right thing by being easy on him but…’ He left the sentence hanging with all the unspoken things he wished now he had done.
‘You did what you thought was right at the time,’ Layla said. ‘We all have a PhD in hindsight. I think he’ll wake up to himself one day. He’s just taking a little longer than you hoped.’
Logan took her hand and brought it up to rest on his thigh. ‘I can’t help comparing you to him. Unlike Robbie, you weren’t born to privilege. You’ve had such a rough time of it and yet you’re a kind and compassionate person who is always giving your time and attention to others. I feel ashamed that Robbie hasn’t made the most of the opportunities he’s been given. Deeply ashamed and frustrated. He could have done so much more with his life but he’s throwing it away, along with the trust fund our father left him.’
He sighed again and added in a weighted tone, ‘I feel like I’ve failed Robbie and my father. That I’ve let them both down. And the guilt that comes with that churns my guts.’
Layla touched his face with the soft palm of her hand, her expression full of concern. ‘Oh, Logan, you really mustn’t blame yourself for how Robbie chooses to live his life. You and Robbie have had terrible tragedy in your lives. It must have been awful to have your mother walk out like that when you were both so young. But she didn’t just walk out on Robbie and your father. She abandoned you as well. But it seems like you’ve had to be strong for everyone else. And then when your dad died…well, you did the same. It’s in your nature to take control, to make sure everyone is okay before you see to your own needs. But your needs are important too. You can’t put them on hold for ever.’
Logan cradled one side of her face with his hand, his other hand still holding her hand anchored to his thigh. ‘How’d you get to be so wise and wonderful?’
Something passed through her gaze and she lowered her eyes to focus on the region of his collar. ‘I’m not that wonderful…’ She bit her lip and a frown pleated her smooth brow.
He lifted her chin so her gaze came back to his. ‘Hey. Why do you think that?’
Her expression faltered as if she was in two minds over answering. But then she gave a jagged sigh and spoke in a muted and flat tone. ‘When my parents died in the car crash… I didn’t grieve for them. Not the way other kids would have grieved. I pretended to grieve, because that’s what everyone expected. But I was a fraud because I was secretly relieved I didn’t have to live that chaotic life with them anymore.’
Her mouth tightened as if the memories were almost too painful to speak out loud.
‘The drugs, the drink binges, the violence—I hated my life and I hated being first-row witness to what my mother’s life had become. But I couldn’t do anything to make it better for her. But the “accident—”’ she did the air quote gesture with her fingers ‘—changed my life for ever and I was glad. I was actually more relieved I didn’t have to have my leg amputated than I grieved for my parents. How sick and screwed up is that? I think that makes me a bad person. A terrible person.’
Logan hugged her tightly against his chest, resting his chin on the top of her head. ‘You’re not any such thing, sweetheart. You were a neglected and maltreated little girl who deserved a much better start in life. My heart aches for what you went through. But you should be proud of how you’ve coped. For what you’ve done with your life.’ He eased back to blot the tears from beneath her eyes with his thumbs. ‘What you’re doing for others in your mother’s situation is a wonderful way of breaking the cycle. It’s your legacy for her memory and I’m sure she would be so very proud of you.’
Her lips flickered with a wry smile. ‘Gosh, this sofa has become confession central lately, hasn’t it? What is it about a roaring fire and a cosy atmosphere that gets under one’s guard?’
It hadn’t just lowered her guard—Logan had never been so open with anyone before. It was a strange feeling—a feeling he wasn’t sure he could or wanted to name. He framed her face in his hands and brought his lips within a breath of hers. ‘I don’t know but it sure feels pretty damn good.’ And he covered her mouth with his.
PREPARING FOR CHRISTMAS at Bellbrae had always been one of Layla’s favourite pastimes, but with Logan there to offer his assistance, it took her enjoyment to a whole new level. He helped her select a tree from the forest on the estate and with two of the grounds staff’s help, it was transported to the largest sitting room in the castle.
In the past, Layla and her great-aunt had done the decorating of the tree, especially in later years when Logan and his brother had often been abroad and Logan’s grandfather had been too infirm to do much more than sit and watch and offer suggestions about where a bauble or strip of tinsel should be placed.
They were in the sitting room, putting the last touches to the tree, Logan standing on a ladder while she held it steady so he could place the porcelain angel, which had been in the McLaughlin family for six decades, at the top of the tree.
‘There,’ he said with a note of satisfaction in his voice. ‘Let’s hope she makes it through one more festive season, but I seriously think we might have to get a new one for next year.’ He climbed down the ladder and began tidying up the boxes in which the decorations had been stored.
Next year? Layla mentally gulped. We?
There would be no ‘we’ next year. Their marriage would have ended in October, as Logan had planned from the start. Or would it? He had been so wonderful to her over the last few weeks. Attentive and loving…yes, loving. Surely it wasn’t just an act? There was nobody around to witness it, as Aunt Elsie had extended her holiday, and the other Bellbrae staff were mostly casual and weren’t in the castle much but working in the outbuildings or grounds.
Logan turned with two empty boxes in his arms and frowned at her expression. ‘Hey, what’s wrong, sweetie?’
‘Nothing…’ Layla bent down to pick up a tiny strip of silver tinsel off the carpet.
He put the boxes down and came over to where she was standing and brushed his finger across her lower lip. ‘If you keep chewing your lip like that it will bleed and then I won’t be able to kiss you.’
Layla forced a quick no-teeth smile. ‘I guess I’m just a bit tired…’
He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, his gaze so dark it was hard to tell where his pupils began and ended. ‘Is your leg hurting you? You’ve been doing way too much and that walk to the forest to get the tree was a bit rough in places.’
‘My leg is okay, mostly,’ Layla said. The chronic neural pain she suffered from was still there but she was less conscious of it. She still limped, because one leg was shorter than the other, but she realised she had become almost oblivious to the slight awkwardness of her gait. ‘I think you’ve helped distract me from the discomfort.’ She put her arms around his waist and smiled, properly this time. ‘Now, we need to find some mistletoe to hang over the doorway.’
Logan’s eyes twinkled.
