Fire Maidens Scotland (Billionaires & Bodyguards #6) - Anna Lowe Page 0,4
slept together. But, still. The last thing she needed was to face her erstwhile crush again.
Not a crush. Our destined mate, her dragon insisted.
Ten days earlier, life had been great. The start of a beautiful summer in Wyoming, with Trevor paying his annual visit. Three days before he was scheduled to depart, Trevor had joined Holly’s family for a barbecue, looking fit as a fiddle despite his advanced age. But sometime in the following night, he’d peacefully passed away, leaving Holly to read into every comment he’d made the previous evening.
So quiet here. So beautiful. He’d looked over the mountains and sighed in satisfaction.
True satisfaction, she realized in hindsight. An old man ready to go out on his own terms.
You could have held on a little longer, she chided him in her mind. Why make me bring your ashes all the way to Scotland when you could have come on your own?
She didn’t mean it, of course. Trevor had loved that kind of banter. If there was a heaven, Trevor was up there now, chuckling at her.
You, lass, are the only person who speaks her mind around me.
She allowed herself a bittersweet smile. Trevor had always been so kind to her. If he wanted her to witness the reading of his will, so be it. She just hoped he hadn’t left her anything, because he’d already done more than enough.
Can’t go spoiling me rotten, she used to joke to the man who’d become her mentor.
You, my dear, don’t know the meaning of the word, he’d assured her.
The lawyer went on in his lilting Scottish accent, making it easy to imagine Trevor speaking. “‘I, Trevor David Stuart of Creag Aerden, Scotland, hereby declare this to be my last will…’”
Holly tried concentrating, but it was a losing battle, what with all her senses drifting to Lachlan. Every inhale brought her a whiff of his scent — the scent of the Highlands. His broad shoulders reminded her of the Highlands, too — all those rounded, misty peaks towering above deep glens. Her fingers twitched with the memory of running her hands through that thick brown hair. It was a good thing she couldn’t see his eyes, because the steel-gray, clouds-reflected-in-a-lake color had always mesmerized her.
Lachlan had been away for the past ten years. Why was he back now, dammit? His absence had made her visits to Scotland much, much easier.
And much, much duller, her dragon murmured, lashing its tail with desire.
She tapped her foot faster. The sooner the will was read, the sooner she could go back to pretending they’d never met.
“‘I appoint my esteemed friend, Fergus McGregor, as sole executor of this will…’” the lawyer went on.
The balding man beside the lawyer nodded morosely. He looked truly sad, as did most of the others, including the stunning redhead at Lachlan’s side. It figured Lachlan had landed a beauty like her. The young woman had chic and elegant nailed to a T, from her pearl necklace to the fine silk of her dress.
Still, the purple scarf tied around her neck was twisted and limp, and strands of hair escaped her ruby-studded hair clip, as if she’d been too submerged in grief to care about her appearance. Too bad, because it made her harder to hate.
The raven-haired beauty in the front row, on the other hand, was dressed for success, as if this were a business meeting and not a solemn occasion. Natasha. Holly made a face. She’d met the she-dragon a few times over the years. Enough to know to steer clear.
“Now, as for the disposition of the will…” the lawyer went on.
Natasha leaned forward eagerly.
The lawyer read the next lines silently, then frowned. Finally, he shrugged and murmured, “You always did have your own way of doing things.”
He meant Trevor, of course. The man had loved keeping people on their toes.
Holly watched as the lawyer picked up his phone and waited for his assistant to answer. “Ms. Croft? I believe there was a package with Mr. Stuart’s will… Yes, please bring it in.” Then he hung up and gestured apologetically. “Just a moment, please. It seems our dear friend has left one last surprise.”
Holly flashed the urn a bittersweet smile. That would be Trevor, all right.
The door opened, and a woman hurried in with a shoebox-sized package wrapped in brown paper. She handed it to the lawyer then marched back out.
Natasha’s eyes followed the package like a hawk. The lawyer patted it, then went back to the will.