Conall slid into the seat facing forward. He gestured back and forth between the other three seats. “Take whichever you like.”I slid into the one across the aisle from him, the soft off-white leather molding to my form.
“You know,” said Conall as he passed me a drink, “there is something I don’t understand.”
I took a sip from the glass. “What is that?”
Conall stared at the liquor in his glass. “How is it that Aiden always seems to know where we are? He’s always one step ahead…”
The muscles in my shoulders tensed. “I don’t know. Have you spoken to Cormac about it?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Hi.” A woman with shoulder-length brown hair who looked like she could have stepped from the pages of a 1940s pinup magazine smiled at us. “You must be Lorcan?”
I nodded.
“Great to know I don’t have the wrong passenger. I’m Zadie, the pilot. Conall, sir, are you ready to go?”
Conall nodded.
“Just so you know, we’re going to fly into Aberdeen, and then I’ve already contracted another plane to get you to Kirkwall. No way my baby is going to land there.”
“Thank you, Zadie,” said Conall with a smile. His eyes tracked the woman’s ass as she sashayed up the hallway.
I gave him a sly smile. “Anything I should know about her?”
“Other than she is a fun lay when there is no one else?” His eyes sparkled. “No.”
We laughed and sat back for the takeoff.
Several hours and two flights later, we stood on the docks in Kirkwall on Orkney, waiting for the nightly ferry.
If Briar had left Derby and gone to Aberdeen, she would have had to take this ferry to get here. There was only one a day.
As passengers disembarked, I scanned each face.
Nothing.
I didn’t see her. My stomach twisted, and my breath came faster, sharp against the cold sea air. I scanned again, sure I must have missed her. The last of the passengers left the dock. How could I have been incorrect?
My voice was tight as I looked at my youngest brother. “Where could she be? Why isn’t she here?”
Conall placed a firm hand on my arm. “I don’t know,” he said, “but we’ll find her.”
A deep unease settled in my chest as I stared at the empty dock. I swallowed hard, the cold salt air burning in my lungs. “What if we’re already too late? What if Aiden found her?”
Briar
Ispread a blanket on the beach wall overlooking the harbor in Aberdeen. The uneven stones pressed into my thighs, their cold bite seeping through the blanket, a stark contrast to the warmth of the jacket Rory had insisted I pack when we left Australia.
It had been three days since I ran from Lorcan—each day a different city. I missed home. I missed Amy. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I missed being surrounded by the O’Cillians. My fingers fisted in the fabric as if by pulling it tighter, I could close the gap that had grown between me and everything I left behind.
The wind whipped around me off the harbor, throwing salt spray into the air as the waves pounded the shore. They mirrored my feelings—angry, relentless, and restless.
A man and his dog ran along the beach. Had I been home, the sight would have made me smile or laugh, echoing the carefree joy of man and beast enjoying their natural surroundings.
It reminded me I was running too, but not in the same way. I couldn’t tell if I was running from something or toward it. The more I learned about Lady Isobel and my history, the more I wondered how she thrived.
Yesterday, in Edinburgh, I visited the Palace of Holyrood House. I walked through the Great Gallery, where, according to the paperwork in Cormac’s portfolio, Lady Isobel Lyon Blackcairn was introduced to society in 1806. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what a ball would have looked like in that era, how it would have felt to be presented to society. Was she excited or angry to have her parents declare she was fit to be married?
