Leather & Lark: The Ruinous Love Trilogy (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, 2)

Lachlan leans against the passenger side of the Charger with his arms crossed. The doors to Shoreview Assisted Living slide shut behind me and I take a few steps into the muted light of the overcast morning, my bag slung across one shoulder, the strap of a guitar case across the other. Though my eyes are hidden by sunglasses, I know he can see the surprise and trepidation in my wary stance as I draw to a halt. I don’t know why I’m surprised when it’s been just over two weeks now of Lachlan doing little things to try to chip away at the wall I try to keep between us. It’s not the first time he’s showed up somewhere unexpectedly to offer me a ride. But something in his expression seems different this time, even from a distance, and it keeps me locked in place.

Lachlan unfolds his arms, stepping to the side to open the car door. He flips the passenger seat forward so I can put my belongings on the back seat. When he faces me once more, I haven’t moved an inch.

“Come on, duchess. Let’s go.”

“Go where?” I ask.

“Can’t tell you.”

I swallow and fidget with the strap of my bag but I don’t come closer. A heavy beat drums in my chest as indecision and distrust root me to the ground.

Lachlan takes a small step forward and I remain still, my steady breath a fog in the cold air. “The … uh … the passenger seat is comfortable.”

“Better than the trunk?”

He winces. “I thought it might be too soon for that joke.”

“It was probably going to come up eventually.”

His hand slides to the back of his neck. I cross my arms over my chest, waiting to see what he’ll say. We’ve never spoken openly about that night—maybe we’re both too stubborn, or are unwilling to fracture the fragile peace that’s grown between us. But something seems different in Lachlan today. Like there’s both heartache and hope in his eyes.

He takes another step closer. I stand my ground. “That night we met,” he says, his voice soft with regret. “The way I acted, the way I took my shitty attitude out on you, putting you in the trunk … it wasn’t right. I’m sorry, Lark. I know what I did was … it was cruel. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could take a lot of things back. But I can’t. I can only tell you I’m sorry, and I’m not going to ask you to forgive me.”

I square my shoulders and tip up my chin. “Well, that’s kind of a half-decent apology, aside from the weird forgiveness part.”

“I’m not going to ask you to forgive me because I want to earn it.” Lachlan takes a final step closer. Gently, he takes the strap of my bag and slides it from my shoulder. “And when I do, you can let me know.”

My cheeks heat beneath the cold bite of the wind. And he sees it. His lips curve in a faint smile before he turns and starts walking back to the car.

“You sound pretty sure of yourself,” I call after him.

“Yeah, well, I’m not the type to give up easily. I’m not afraid of putting in the work.”

“And what if we both get what we want and time is up on our marriage but I still haven’t forgiven you?” I ask. “I guess you’re in the clear then, right?”

Lachlan flinches from the sting of my words.

He lays my bag in the back seat and slides off his sunglasses as he turns to face me. The leather of my gloves creaks as my grip tightens across the strap of my guitar case. I clutch it as though it’s a lifeline in choppy waters. “There’s no end date, duchess. Get in,” Lachlan says. “We’ve got somewhere to be, and before you ask again, I’m not going to tell you. It’s a surprise. So please just get in.”

I grin and draw closer, finally passing him the instrument. “‘Please’? I didn’t realize that word was in your vocabulary.”

“I’m full of surprises,” he says as he lays the guitar down and flips the passenger seat back into place. He turns to me and offers his hand. I stare at it, unmoving and suspicious.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you into the vehicle. You know, like a gentleman. Believe it or not, I’m normally quite a well-mannered bloke and not a total heathen. You just caught me on an off day,” he says, which earns him a snort. “Okay, maybe a few off days.”

“Well, this chivalrous streak is weirding me out.”

“Then I guess you’ve got two choices. Get used to the weird, or fight me every step of the process. Either way, I’m not going to stop.”

“You do realize I’m not going to be dickmatized into Lachlan Kane’s accelerated apology plan, right?” I say as I slide my palm onto his. He laughs as he lowers me into the car.NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

“I’ll put that in my notes,” he says. “‘Do not dickmatize Lark into forgiveness.’”

When he starts driving, he grips the steering wheel too tightly, getting a little distracted when I connect my phone to the stereo. When I ask him about music he stalls the car at a red light. He grumbles a handful of swears and his cheeks flush crimson. When he glances my way, I turn to look out the window, hiding a teasing grin.

It takes us a minute to find our stride. But soon we’re talking about … everything. By the time we reach our destination, we’ve been talking for a half hour nonstop about the band I’ve been rehearsing with, and I feel at ease.

At least I do until we turn down a quiet lane and roll to a stop at the end of a paved walkway.

“What is this?” My head swivels between Lachlan and the log ranch house at the end of the path. Its black and gold sign merely says ROCK ROSE LODGE. My eyes narrow with suspicion, all the comfort I felt in Lachlan’s presence suddenly gone and replaced with an uncomfortable knot that tightens in my chest. “Is this some kind of place where you’re going to leave me in an attempt to cure my—what did you call it—glitter psycho streak?”

“Christ Jesus. No, Lark.” Lachlan reaches down and releases my seat belt, guiding the buckle away from my body and back to its resting place by my shoulder. “Rock Rose Lodge is a sleep retreat.”

My breath hitches in my throat as I attempt to process his words. “A … what?”

“A sleep retreat. They specialize in treating insomnia.” Lachlan pulls a brochure from the interior pocket of his jacket and passes it to me. “Sound therapy sessions. Yoga. Acupuncture. Light therapy. Meal plans. There’s a sleep specialist here, Dr. Sargsyan. She’ll help to make a personalized plan for you to follow.”

“Sleep retreat …?” I whisper, my words an echo, stuck on a delay.

“That’s right. And you’re going to stay for the long weekend and look after yourself. If it doesn’t work, that’s okay. We’ll keep looking for something that does. The time off will be good for you regardless.”

My eyes are narrow slits. “Did you just abduct me for nefarious purposes under the guise of sleep?”

“No.”

“But—”

“You need. Time. Off.” His gaze holds steady to mine as though he hopes to somehow etch those words into my mind. I press my lips together as tears sting my eyes. Lachlan’s hand folds into a fist as though he wants to touch me but stops himself. “Look, I know you could just call an Uber as soon as I drive off. But I want you to try.”

“You’re not staying?”

“No,” he says as he slides a hand across the back of his neck. “I thought it would be better for you if I didn’t.”

“Um … yeah,” I say with a brittle smile. “Makes sense.” Though I drop my gaze to the brochure, I only skim the details, because the truth is, I really want to do this. But I’m needed elsewhere. I fold it and set it on my lap, turning my eyes to the lodge. “It’s just, there’s so much going on right now.”

“And all that shit can wait. You can spare a little time.”

Other than a faint nod, I don’t reply. I just keep my attention fixed to the retreat as I fidget, playing a phantom song with one hand on the back of the other. Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me before. “What about you?” I finally ask, still unwilling to look in Lachlan’s direction.

“I’ll be out for the rest of the day. But you can call me tonight if you need me, yeah? I should be back by eleven. I’ve got no plans to speak of for the rest of the weekend.”

His words are met with silence as a thousand thoughts swirl in my head. A blush creeps up my neck as I look out the window and worry my bottom lip. I want to go. But what if something happens to Ethel? What about Bentley? My responsibilities? Band rehearsals? And most unexpected, what if Lachlan is trying to get rid of me for the weekend? Is there a woman he wants to take home? It’s not like we’re a real couple. We never talked about not being with other people. So why does a hole burn in my chest when I wonder if that’s the real reason he’s doing this?

“It’s just a few days, Lark. If something comes up, it won’t take me long to come and get you. Conor is looking through the information we pulled for leads on Foster’s people and I’ve got him monitoring police investigations on the murder cases, so there’s not much we can do until he finishes his work. And I’ll drop in on Ethel. I’ll take Bentley to see her. You can turn your phone off, I have the number for the retreat and they’ll let you know right away if something happens. But everything will be fine, yeah …?”

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. How am I supposed to tell him that I’m afraid of losing something that isn’t mine to begin with? Why should it mean anything to me what he’s doing or who he’s seeing? It’s not a real marriage. It’s not real.

Silence stretches on in the car. And then I feel his touch. A simple graze of his fingers to the bones on the back of my hand.

My head whips around and I pin Lachlan with a lethal glare.

He pulls his hand away as though he’s afraid he overstepped, but that just makes it even worse. Frustrated tears fill my eyes.

“Lark—”

“Why is this so hard?” I blurt out.

Lachlan shakes his head, confusion etched between his brows. “Why is what so hard?”

The first tear breaches my lash line and slides down my cheek toward my trembling lips. Lachlan’s face creases with worry as I lose the battle to hold my emotions back. “You,” I say with a flick of my hand between us as more tears escape my control. “This. It’s so fucking hard. I don’t want to care what you’re doing or where you’re going. It shouldn’t matter to me at all. But it does fucking matter and I don’t know why—”

Lachlan grasps my chin and stares right into me until I press my eyes closed. “Lark,” he whispers. I try to bury the turmoil I feel, but it’s unstoppable, a molten core that churns in the dark. I can feel it in the heat that radiates from my skin, in the hammer of my pulse beneath the finger that Lachlan lets rest against my neck. “Lark, look at me.”

I open my eyes but can’t hold Lachlan’s gaze, not with the heartache and contrition that stare back at me.

“I know this isn’t the type of marriage either of us envisioned for ourselves. I know it’s not … ideal,” he says as he lays his other hand over mine where it rest on my lap, my attention snagging on the simple touch. “But if you’re worried about me stepping out on you and breaking our vows, that’s not me. Doesn’t matter that it’s not a normal marriage. If I make a promise, I keep that promise.”

Lachlan’s thumb slides in a slow arc through the line of tears on my cheek as I take one steady breath in, letting it back out again in a thin stream through pursed lips. It takes more effort than I expect to bury my fears and insecurities and hopes back where they belong. In the shadows. I slip into familiar armor and raise my chin, and when I meet Lachlan’s gaze, he tamps down a half-hearted smile. “I … I don’t really care what you do in your spare time, you know,” I say.

A grin tugs at his lips as his hand falls away from my face, the softness of his touch imprinted in my flesh. “Definitely not, no.”

“And I don’t forgive you.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“If you think you’re going to … sleepmatize me … into forgiving you—”

“I think it’s maybe just hypnotize—”

“—it won’t work. You can’t bribe me with pillows or some shit.”

“I’m not trying to bribe you.” Any hint of levity spirits away from Lachlan’s expression. He leans a little closer and holds my gaze. This time, I don’t look away. “I see how much you’re doing. I know what it’s like to be so busy looking after everyone else that you forget how to look after yourself. You’re going to burn yourself out that way. And I won’t just sit back and watch it happen, Lark. Not if this place is right here, ready to help.”

When he nods in the direction of the ranch, I follow his line of sight, swiping beneath my lashes with the hem of my sleeve. “Okay,” I reply after a long moment. I say it once more and punctuate my declaration with a decisive nod before I finally turn my eyes back to Lachlan. “Thank you.”

He offers a faint smile before he exits the vehicle, grabbing my belongings from the back seat and then a roller bag he packed for me from the trunk. I grumble at him about going through my panties, then about my retainer, and then about panties again, but I can’t help but point out things I like too, from the sprawling log and stone building to Bantam Lake that stretches behind it and the walking paths that snake into the woods.

The staff at the reception desk check me in and describe the amenities and the plan for the next few days, and I feel Lachlan’s focus on me the whole time, his attention unwavering and protective in the periphery. When an attendant takes my luggage and starts to lead the way toward my room, I pause in the center of the lobby and turn to face him. I know I look like shit. My eyes are puffy, my lashes damp with cooling tears, my skin blotchy. But Lachlan looks at me as though I’m beautiful. Like he can’t bear to look away.

“Thank you, Lachlan,” I whisper.

He nods. I should pivot on my heel and walk away and put some space between us.

But I don’t. Not even when Lachlan steps closer.

I stand unmoving in the center of the lobby’s stone floor as though I’ve been carved from it, my expression unsure as Lachlan draws to a halt in front of me. He runs a hand over my hair and gently pulls my head to his chest. “Get some rest,” he whispers in my ear. “See you soon.”

His lips press to my temple in a kiss that lingers just long enough for me to take a deep breath of his scent of leather and amber and mint, and then he lets go. With a final, melancholy smile, he shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and walks away. When he glances over his shoulder, I’m right where he left me, my cheeks flushed and the barest hint of a smile on my lips.

Before it can fade, Lachlan turns away and strides out the doors.