Fire Maidens Scotland (Billionaires & Bodyguards #6) - Anna Lowe Page 0,22

heated.

She stood and stretched her arms high — quickly, before she did something stupid like saying, Lachlan, don’t you think we should give ourselves one more chance? Then she reached for Trevor’s letter and Mungo’s leash.

Lachlan, meanwhile, eyed the shadows as if expecting an ambush. She nearly teased him about it, then caught herself. First of all, teasing was like flirting, and she’d promised herself not to go there. And secondly, the poor guy. Didn’t he know he was back in peaceful Scotland and not in a war zone?

“Right. The yew.” He marched toward the sprawling branches that jutted over the walls of the churchyard.

“Be right there,” she called, indulging Mungo in a short walk in the opposite direction. She wasn’t going to leave the dog behind, but she didn’t want him doing his business on church grounds either. Minutes later, she followed Lachlan.

The church must have been hundreds of years old, judging by the narrow windows and foot-thick masonry. Still, it was holding up well, unlike the surrounding wall. Outside, scruffy Highland cattle grazed between long wooden beams that had been propped against the wall at angles, and a sign cautioned, Unstable walls. Do not lean or touch.

The archway into the churchyard was studded with roses, and Holly inhaled as she followed Lachlan through. Inside, a hush fell over her, and her steps slowed.

Weathered gravestones stood at various angles, and ivy covered the walls. Holly’s chest rose and fell in a deep sigh.

“So beautiful.”

A huge, gnarled yew squatted in the far corner of the churchyard, its trunk a forest of thick columns. Branches stretched in every direction, forming a canopy. Holly fully expected Lachlan to stomp over to the bench beneath the tree, ready for business. But his steps slowed, and he tipped his head back, taking it all in.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

Holly gulped. Peace. A real treasure.

A bird chirped, adding to the tranquility of the scene, and a bee flew quietly from flower to flower.

Lachlan motioned to the bench. “After you.”

She hesitated. What was the protocol for handling an urn at a time like this? She had no clue. Still, she pictured Trevor, took a seat, and set the urn down beside her. Then she took a deep breath and looked up. Funny how a tree could feel as spiritual as a church. When Lachlan sat beside her, something in her soul tilted. And when she raised Trevor’s envelope, it felt as if a service were about to begin.

Still, she closed her eyes and briefly soaked in the scene. All the scents, the sounds, the textures…

“What are you doing?” Lachlan murmured a moment later.

She opened her eyes to find him studying her. Then she shrugged and shut her eyes again.

“I do this sometimes.”

“Do what?”

“I stop. I listen. I smell.” She rubbed her fingertips along the crooked bench. “I touch. Tuning in, you might say.”

Crickets chirped, and a cow mooed in the pause that ensued.

“Why?” Lachlan finally asked.

Ah, Lachlan, she wanted to sigh. You’re so smart, but not so smart either.

“My friend Louisa taught me this. We used to lie in the grass and tune in to the world around us.”

She smiled, picturing the two of them — little country girls with pigtails, chewing on blades of grass.

Lachlan still sounded stumped. “Both of you closing your eyes?”

“Just me. Louisa didn’t have to. She’s blind.”

When Lachlan went still in surprise, Holly sighed, pulled out her phone, and showed him a picture of her and Louisa riding bareback together, taken when they were about twelve.

“We did everything together. Trail rides…hikes…fishing…” She smiled. “I swear, I learned more from her than she did from me, even with all the books I read aloud to her and all the things I tried to describe.”

Lachlan looked at the photo, then her, a little awed. “So that’s what you’ve been doing — the voice recording. Describing the landscape.”

She grinned. “Yep. That’s for Louisa. Like old times, I guess. I used to record stories for her to listen to on trips. Every Harry Potter book, chapter by chapter.” She laughed. “We loved those.”

Lachlan murmured something about radios, and she cocked her head. “Beg your pardon?”

He hesitated, then spoke more clearly. “Trevor always said you have a voice for radio.”

She laughed. “Louisa said that too. She even got me to do a few recordings for her publisher. I still do, now and then, between trips.”

“This is the same Louisa you organized for Deshawn to work with, isn’t it?”

Her gut warmed. He’d been listening — really listening. Maybe he