Echo(33)

“Just hashing out some unsettled business, that’s all. Do you always make it a habit to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?” I tease.

“Always,” he boasts, and we both laugh again.

“Well, at least you’re honest about it.”

“Can I ask you something?”

I nod.

“What brought you here to Scotland?”

I look up at his face, and I don’t see any ulterior motives in our exchange other than a man who genuinely wants an honest conversation, so I answer, “Him.”

“Him?”

“I came to see Declan. I hadn’t spoken to him since he left Chicago, and I guess . . . I guess I just wanted to see him.”

“Lovers?”

“Again . . . nosey.”

He smirks at my jab.

“Does he have many of those?” I ask.

“Would you feel jealous if I told you yes?”

Straightening my neck, I state, “I don’t get jealous.”

“You’re a wicked woman, Elizabeth.”

“What makes you say that?”

“In my experience, women who don’t get jealous do so because they’d rather get even,” he says and then winks.

“Is that what you think of me? That I’m a woman of revenge?” I question in jest, but secretly, I want to know how he truly perceives me.

“You know what my mum always told me?”

“What’s that?” I laugh.

“She told me that while the rest of the species are descended from apes, redheads are descended from cats.”

“So, I’m a cat?”

“A minx,” he notes.

I shake my head, saying, “You neglected to answer my question.”

“You mean Declan?”

“Mmm hmm,” I hum as I take another drink.

“No.”

“No?”

“I’ve known Declan for a very long time. He will always have a woman on his arm at events, but it’s all a show, strictly business. I’ve only known him to have a couple long-term relationships, but none he was too serious about. I think they were more of convenience than actual love. Declan’s a well-guarded man.”

Hearing this makes my guilt build heavier, knowing that what he gave me was most likely the first time he had given that to anyone. His love, his heart, his moments of sweet softness. Having this information makes the destruction feel even more malicious.

“He’s a shrewd man in business,” Lachlan continues. “I can only assume that filters into his personal relationships as well, but perhaps you might have better insight into my assumptions.”

“You want me to open up and divulge my personal knowledge of Declan?”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No,” I state matter-of-factly, and when he gives me a sly look, I murmur in an honest moment, “I hurt myself.”

I refuse to reveal that I also hurt him. I don’t want to diminish anyone’s perceptions of the powerful, andric man they all know him to be.

“So you were lovers?”

“I hate that word.”

“Why?”

Turning to face Lachlan, I lean to the side, resting my elbow on the bar top when I say, “It’s shallow. That word insinuates a base, sexual relationship rather than intimacy.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re gray?”

“You’re wanting black and white? As if that even exists. There is no black and white, right or wrong, yes or no.”

His eyebrows raise in curiosity, and to lighten the now heavy mood, I tease, “Oh, come on, Lachlan. Surely a man of your age has come to recognize the world for what it is.”

“A man of my age?”

“Yes,” I respond, smiling, and then laugh as I add, “Old.”

“Old? Didn’t your mother ever tell you to respect your elders?”

“I never had a mother.” I catch myself as the words fall so easily and without thinking. I immediately press my lips together and turn in my seat so I’m not directly facing him anymore.

He doesn’t make any comment, and the silence is unsettling as we sit here. When I do finally turn my head to look at him, there’s a hint of pity on his face. It irks me, but I remain polite because let’s face it, besides the elderly lady I’m staying with, this is the first real conversation I’ve had in a while.