A Highland Home A Contemporary Highland Romance Book Two (20 page)

She reached past him, their bodies brushing, as she grabbed a folder stashed near her laptop. “Here’s everything, including the latest stuff Conall unearthed.”

With the file open on her desk, he flipped through the pages. “Do ye mind if I borrow this for a few hours? There’s a lot here, and I need to check in on Astro. He’s got his dog door, but he’s not keen on being left alone for long and I’ve yet to go home.”

“Actually, you can keep the file. Conall emailed me everything, so I can just print another copy of the photos and information. Maybe you’ll notice something I missed.” Her shoulders slumped and she let out a weary sigh.

“Don’t lose hope, love.” He brushed a stray curl from her face and tucked it behind her ear, resisting the urge to kiss her, even if every ounce of him was desperate to. “We’ll find him. It’s only a matter of time.”

She nodded with a sigh. “I hope you’re right.”

Once Angus got home and gave Astro some much deserved attention, he spread out the information Conall had dug up. There was a lot, though most of it seemed to be centered around the day of Iona’s graduation. A list of classmates was included, and luckily, the nursing program had been relatively small. There were a handful of men on the list, leaving him to wonder if one of them was Rowan’s father. He scoured through the pictures next. There were several of Iona and her roommate, as well as photos with her other friends-even his mother.

Rowan really did look so much like her mother. The similarities were incredible, from the red hair and large almond shaped eyes, to the incredible cheekbones. Yet he could also see the differences-the things she got from her father. Her eyes were green instead of her mother’s brown, she had a stronger jaw, fuller lips and her curls were looser and a more vibrant red.

Thoughts of his genetics class filtered through his brain, though it was hard to predict things like hair and eye color. The variations were just too many. Not even brown eyes on the father’s side could be ruled out if there were recessive genes from both of the parents, though it would be less common.

It then occurred to him that Rowan had been looking at the photos to find friends of her mother’s with the hopes they’d know who her father is. But maybe Rowan’s father had shown up at the graduation and was right there in the pictures.

Angus flipped through the images looking for any resemblance between Rowan and the men in the photos. Sorting through the photos, he put them into piles. Some he thought he could safely dismiss, others weren’t so easy.

His gaze was drawn to a photo of Iona with her father and Imogen with her family, taken at their college graduation. Conall had labeled everyone in this photo-from Imogen’s father and mother, to her brother and sisters. Though Angus only knew Imogen and her brother as middle-aged adults, he could see the people he’d met in their younger selves.

He flipped through a few more photos, when something caught his attention. It was a photo of Iona arm and arm with a young handsome man with striking blue eyes and honey brown hair. Iona looked up at him with a sweet look, and Angus had to wonder. Only one problem-he didn’t have a clue as to who the man was. His mother might know though. Just had to see a patient first.

Chapter Seventeen

In desperate need of caffeine, Rowan was ecstatic that she’d managed to acquire the espresso machine along with the gallery. The aroma of freshly ground coffee filled the air as she brewed a double shot of espresso and steamed some milk for a latte. Used to a steady dose of caffeine, she’d been going through withdrawal while trying to survive on the occasional cup, leaving her head in a fog.

With a mug of frothy heaven in hand, Rowan printed out new copies of the pictures Conall had sent her. There were new pictures she had yet to study, and with things better between her and Angus, she felt a renewed energy and hope. She could tackle looking for her father again-and she would find him.

Some of the photos were of her mother and Anne, others of her mom and Imogen, and then even more with people they’d yet to identify. She poured over the information, trying to match names with faces, but it was like walking through a blinding fog. She didn’t know what the hell she was looking for.

Maybe if she cast a wide enough net, something would turn up. Finding the list of students her mother graduated with, Rowan started to make some calls. Some numbers were disconnected, but she also left several messages, including one for Imogen. Though Angus didn’t think she was being completely honest with them, Rowan thought she was still their best bet. If anyone knew what her mother was up to while in college, it would be her roommate and friend.

She debated driving over to pay Imogen a visit, but after Angus accused her of lying to them, she doubted she’d be welcome-thank you very much, Angus. Yet… what if he was right? Why lie though? Maybe it was something that would put Rowan’s mother in a bad light and she didn’t want Rowan to find out. Or maybe the poor woman wasn’t lying at all, but instead was simply a very private person and uncomfortable discussing her past.

Going through all the pictures, Rowan pulled the ones of Imogen and her family. Some were decades old, taken while she and her mother were at college, and others were more recent, clearly photos that Conall had found online, most of them related to business articles or the news.    

Imogen had two sisters and one brother-the man who nearly plowed her over. There had also been a tragedy, taking their oldest brother away from them when he was only nineteen. A boating accident off the coast of France.

More recently, the father’s health had deteriorated, his heart weak. With the company head in ill health, there were reports of turmoil within the firm. Rowan wondered if the argument they’d stumbled on between Imogen and her brother had to do with the future of the family business. What was his name? She found the page with the family information. There. Rory Murray.

She looked at the pictures again, easily finding Rory with his good looks and strawberry blonde hair. His hair had darkened towards more of a chestnut color as he’d gotten older and gone grey at the temples, though it only served to make him look more dignified. She went through the most recent pictures Conall sent over. There were several more of her mother with Imogen and her family, taken on graduation day. Imogen’s father looked put out and annoyed for having to be there, despite it being his daughter’s big day.

Again, her gaze traveled back to Rory. To her mother. In each picture, there was something… a certain tension. As if they were avoiding looking at each other, yet couldn’t help but be drawn together.

She picked up the phone and dialed Imogen again. Once more, no one picked up and she was forced to leave a message. “Imogen… It’s Rowan again. I’m sorry to keep bugging you but I have a question about my mother-and your brother. Please… call me as soon as you get this message.”

She hung up and returned to the pictures, her fingers running over them-over Rory’s face. Was she just seeing things out of desperation? Or was there really something between them?  Rory… Rowan… even his name. They were both derived from the Gaelic for red. Was it her mother’s way of linking her to her father in some small way? Or was she being delusional? Grasping at straws.

With her heart pounding and her gut in knots, she took a deep breath to try and calm her nerves. Her gaze strayed to Rory again and she was forced to blink back tears. Could it really be him? Was she looking at her dad?

She shook her head clear and got to her feet to pace, her thoughts refusing to slow. When that didn’t help, she knew heading outdoors to take some pictures would help clear her mind and calm her thoughts. Double-checking her phone to make sure the battery was charged and the ringer was on, she grabbed her camera and wandered towards the seaport.

The fresh salt air filled her lungs, the scent of it pungent, as the air whipped around her, feeding her excitement. It made her feel alive, the energy of the sea palpable as the waves crashed on the rocks by the port. She took frame after frame, knowing each one would give her more material for her gallery. Anything seemed possible now, and though she kept herself busy with work, a renewed hope bubbled in her chest, leaving her lightheaded. More than ever before, she felt as if knowing her father might finally become a reality.

Her phone rang and she quickly answered it, panicked they’d disconnect before she hit the right button. It was Imogen-she wanted to get together. To talk. She wasn’t far from Dunmuir and would swing by the gallery within the hour.

This could be it. She might finally get the answers she was looking for-or she would once more be disappointed.

Pushing that thought away, she tried to stay positive and headed back to the gallery. Needing to tell someone, she immediately thought of Angus, but her call went through to his voicemail. She tried one more time, but still didn’t have any luck getting through, so she left a quick message. He was probably knee deep in muck and wrestling a pig. The thought had a smile jumping to her lips-and left her wondering how he’d managed to finagle his way into her good graces in such short order.

The minutes trickled by as she waited for Imogen to arrive, leaving her nerves on edge. Trying to distract herself, she kept busy by sorting through the photos.

With the door to the gallery unlocked in anticipation, Imogen gave a quick knock and let herself in. Like before, her mother’s roommate seemed very put together, her slacks perfectly pressed and not a hair out of place. And yet, there was a tension in her shoulders, and a tightness to her jaw, despite the smile perched on her lips. “I must admit, I was surprised to get your message.”

“Thanks for coming by. Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Imogen politely declined, so Rowan got to the point. “As you know, I’m still looking for my father. A friend managed to find some pictures of my mother’s graduation, and since you were in a lot of them, I was hoping you might be able to identify some of the people and shed some light on my mother’s relationships with them.” She picked up the file and handed it to her, hoping she’d help.

Imogen opened it and quickly paged through a handful of the pictures, before closing the file and holding it against her chest. “I’d love to help you with these. Perhaps we could do it over a late lunch? I got stuck in meetings most of the day, and I’m famished. There’s a great little place just a few towns over.”

Rowan supposed that someone as wealthy as Imogen probably didn’t frequent the local watering hole for some pub grub. “That would be great.”

Imogen looked around the gallery as Rowan grabbed her bag and jacket. “It’s a lovely gallery. Pity about the glass. I see you cut yerself too. I hope it was nothing too serious.”

“Just a few scratches. The locals don’t take too kindly to strangers, I guess. Not that I’m going anywhere.” Rowan felt her stubborn streak kick in, anger over the incident sparking deep in her chest. “I don’t care much for bullies or being pushed around.”

“No. I can’t say I abide by them either. Still, one must do whatever it takes to keep themselves and their loved ones safe.” Imogen wandered towards the door. Once Rowan had locked up the gallery, they headed out into the fresh air. “I think your mother knew that lesson well enough.”

Rowan thought about what Angus had said-about her mother being scared. Thought of why her mother didn’t tell her about her father. “I think so. She was a great mom, even if she did leave me with this mystery to solve.”

“Well, I’m sure she had her reasons, my dear.” Imogen led the way to where she’d parked. “I can drive since you’re still new to the area.”

Rowan paused, thinking of her mother who’d been scared enough to keep her father’s identity from her. Surely she hadn’t been scared of her roommate. Still… Rowan started to get a weird feeling. “Maybe the pub would be a better option? I have work I need to get to, and you said you were starving. The food really is quite good.”

“On second thought, maybe you should drive.” Hard silver caught the light as Imogen stepped to Rowan’s side and grabbed her arm, discreetly sticking a gun in her side, sending Rowan’s heart pounding. “I really don’t want to hurt you, my dear, so please just get in the car. I’ll give you the answers you’re looking for and then we’ll come to an agreement. Refuse to cooperate, and you and those you love will pay the consequences. There’s too much at stake for you to ruin everything.”

Rowan was taken aback by how cool and calm Imogen was, especially when her own heart felt like it was jumping out of her chest. She supposed that was the difference between holding the gun and being on the barrel end of it.

Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what to do, but Imogen had already shoved her in the car, and Rowan found herself pulling out into traffic, Imogen’s gun pointed right at her. Rowan told herself not to panic. Doing her best to ignore her thready pulse and shallow breathing, she instead tried not to get herself killed via bullet or oncoming traffic. Maybe if she got Imogen talking, she’d have a better idea as to what was going on and how to get out of it.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re doing this?” Rowan glanced at Imogen, her eyes immediately dropping to the gun before returning her attention to the road.

“You just had to keep snooping. If you’d left the matter alone, I wouldn’t be forced to take such extreme measures.” She shook her head.

“It’s your brother, isn’t it? Your brother, Rory, is my father.” She hated that her voice cracked with emotion. “I’m right. Aren’t I?”