Echo(25)

When I’m satisfied with my appearance, I pick up my invitation and pashmina before heading down to the lobby. The car I called for is already waiting out front, and my heart beats in anticipation as the driver opens the door for me. I’ve granted myself permission to be vulnerable ever since I woke up in the hospital, exhausted from the emotions I finally allowed to erupt inside of me.

But now . . . now it’s time to focus.

I know what I want, and I need to do whatever it takes to get Declan to talk to me, to hear my words, and to understand and believe in what we had. To know it wasn’t a lie—not all of it. To know I didn’t want him to kill, I didn’t want to use him or betray him, but that everything spun out of control so fast I couldn’t stop what had already been set into motion.

When we arrive and pass through the gate of Saint Andrews University, I take a moment to admire the historic buildings, aged to refinement. The car jostles along the cobblestone road and slows in front of a building that’s adorned with rustic, fire-lit lanterns and a red carpet lined with press photographers. It’s foreign that I would attend an event alone and not know a single person, but I refuse to let insecurity taint me.

The car stops and I watch women dressed to the nines in their designer gowns and men in their kilts and fly plaids. I take a hard swallow, straighten my spine, and reach out for the hand of the usher who opens my door.

“Miss,” he greets with a nod. “Will you be joined by a companion?”

“No.”

“May I escort you?”

“That would be lovely,” I accept graciously.

I feign my right to belong and mingle among, what appears to be, the high society of the UK—wealth and prestige. But I’m good at what I do, veiling the disgust that molds me as the vile human I really am.

Looping my arm through his, he introduces in his heavy brogue, “I’m Lachlan.”

I look up at his broad, clean-shaven face and smile at the forty-something-year-old man with dark hair distinguished by flakes of silver. Putting on the charm I perfected while married to Bennett, I remark with flirtation, “And where is your companion?”

“I’m without as well.”

“Really? That surprises me.”

“And why’s that?”

“Truthfully?” I question, lifting a brow to create amusement, and when he smiles and nods, I’m blunt, telling him, “You’re startlingly attractive. I find it hard to believe you’re not here with a little tart attached to your arm.”

His chuckle is deep and rich when he responds, “Oh, but I do have a beautiful little, what did you call it?—tart?—stuck to my arm.”

I join in his laughter. “Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth?”

“My name, it’s Elizabeth. And I assure you, I’m no tart.”





LACHLAN AND I are all smiles when he leads me into the magnificent ballroom, draped in luxury. The room is masculine, smelling of rich varnish and weathered books, dark mahogany walls, and the finest champagne being served off of polished antique silver trays. As a waiter passes me, I pluck a sparkling flute from the tray.

“Quick on the bevvy. Eager?” Lachlan teases, and I answer with a simple, “Parched,” before taking a sip.

But I am eager. Too eager, as I dart my eyes around the room in search of Declan, but all I see are unfamiliar faces.

“Elizabeth,” Lachlan starts, pulling my attention back to him. “What brings you here? I attend many of these events, and I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m from the US. I recently arrived here but have been staying in Galashiels.”

“Gala? Interesting. It’s such a small town. Most travelers stay in Edinburgh. What’s in Gala for you?”

“A good friend of mine,” I tell him. “He’s supposed to be here tonight actually. Declan McKinnon, have you seen him?”

“That wee bastard?” he belts out.

He must see my confused expression when he explains, “Scottish humor, dear. It’s a friendly boast.”

“Oh.”

I take a sip of my champagne while he adds, “We both attended university here,” and then is cut off by a gentleman at the microphone announcing that dinner will be served shortly and to enjoy the band and some dancing.

I scan the room again, which is filled with a mass of people, chatting, drinking, and mingling. Voices are quiet, aside from the random, boisterous comments from the men. Rich with their accents, I must stand out to them as Lachlan introduces me to a few people while everyone makes their way around.