All My Broken Dreams (Locksley Hall #1)

Chapter Twelve

T hey walked through the silent, wet streets back to Deacon’s lodgings. Robbie thought over what she might find in Harry’s room and decided that no matter what it was, she had to know. Her mother lurked behind every move she made in Scotland. Sarah’s pained expression turned in her direction, made her cringe inside and hardened her resolve to do anything it took to find Harry and bring him home.

“If he’s not there–if he’s left–I’ll go looking for him and I’m going to find him, Deacon. I swear I will.”

His expression changed. A shadow passed over his handsome features and vanished almost as quickly as it had surfaced.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “What are you keeping from me?”

“Stop asking me that,” he said impatiently. “I’m not your keeper or Harry’s. If you want to waste time running after a guy who doesn’t care enough to stay in touch, it’s not my business. I’ll call Mrs. Cameron for you and she’ll let you in his room. After that, you’re on your own.”

“Wait! Why are you mad at me? I never asked for your help. I know you’re not responsible for any of this. I’m sorry if I made it sound like that.”

His eyes were dark and stormy, surveying the street. Dawn had finally broken, penetrating the clouds. “You didn’t. I’m just tired. And hungry. Let’s get some breakfast while we wait for Mrs. Cameron. There’s a cafe in the next street that opens early.”

She didn’t want food, she wanted to know what Deacon was hiding because it was clear he was hiding something. It wasn’t in anything he said, but his expression which was normally open and easy to read, became closed and opaque whenever her brother’s name came up.

Why ?

Maybe Harry had sworn him to secrecy. Maybe there was a dark reason Harry had fled from his family and refused to get in touch. Robbie didn’t know much about her half-brother’s first family. Maybe there was a good reason he had to disappear. Maybe Deacon was helping Harry to stay lost.

After seeing how Deacon Wake was with the stray cat and her litter, Robbie felt that his reasons must be pure. But he wasn’t going to tell her anything until he knew he could trust her.

“Breakfast sounds great.”

She stuffed her cold hands into the pockets of her coat as they rounded the corner. Taking his hand to feel better was childish. Something a kid would do. It was time to grow up.

The cafe was warm and well-lit, smelling of toast, coffee and bacon fat. Deacon’s stomach growled. He held the door for Robbie. He noticed she didn’t take his hand this time. She was probably angry with him. He messed up. He shouldn’t have lost his patience with her, but if she didn’t back off, she was going to get into trouble.

It was his job to make sure she backed off and to do that, she had to trust him. No, it was bigger than that. Robbie Listowel had to trust him to the point of obedience . She had to do everything he told her to do. If he told her to let Harry go, she had to do it or Alastair would get rid of her.

Fuil Bratach before all. Even a twenty-two-year-old girl who was scared to step outside.

Deacon surveyed the nearly empty cafe for a table. Robbie’s hands were jammed in her pockets, coiled into fists. Her face was wan and tight with anxiety. She was like the cat when he first found her; wound so tight, she’d claw him to pieces if he made a move.

In Robbie’s case, it was the cafe that threatened her. She was so brave, battling her condition to keep searching for her brother. Like his feral cat, Robbie Listowel had a strong survival instinct.

“Is this all right?” he asked her, pointing to a table against the wall.

Robbie accepted his suggestion without a word, sitting down stiffly as though every movement caused her pain. Maybe it did. He remembered her dislocated shoulder.

“How is the shoulder this morning?”

“Better.” Her lips were white. Her eyes were dark and staring. “I took a painkiller before we left.”

He winced to see how vulnerable she was, like a puppy that had been kicked. Eager for affection and terrified of it at the same time. Deacon had deep sympathy for the wounded; he felt like one of them at times. It was a sensation he didn’t like to examine too closely.

The owner of the cafe came to take their order seeing as it was too early for the regular staff.

“ Madainn mhath , Deacon. How is it with you this wicked morn? I see you’ve got a friend with you. What d’ye been doing to her? She looks froze through. Coffee or will ye be having tea? I’ll bring a pot.”

“Tea for me, Jimmy, and the full Scottish. Robbie?”

“Coffee, thank you. What’s the full Scottish?”

“You sound American,” Jimmy observed with a grunt. “I’ll bring you the American plate. Reserved for tourists.”

Her cheeks flushed with color. “I’ll take tea and toast, thanks.”

“Bring her the full Scottish, Jimmy. Hold the haggis and black pudding.”

“As I said: the American plate,” muttered the cafe owner as he left to prepare their order.

Robbie inched out of her coat gingerly, favoring her shoulder. “This is nice,” she said, looking around. “Homey.”

“You won’t find it on a list of Places to Eat in Edinburgh. Jimmy keeps this place going on word of mouth and his prices are low. I usually have a bowl of porridge to start and a small fry up before I go to work. Today is a special occasion.”

“Because you have a guest.” She nodded at the owner who was behind the counter, cooking. “He seemed to be surprised to see you with a girl.”

“He needs to mind his own business but try telling him that.” Deacon leaned forward over the chipped formica table. “Look, I’m sorry I said you were on your own. I didn’t mean it. I’ll help you as much as I can, but you need to be realistic. Harry hasn’t shown his face around here in weeks. He’ll get in touch when he’s ready.”

“When will that be? I know you know something, Deacon. What are you keeping from me? Did he tell you anything about his family here?”

Alastair said he had a glower that would frighten the birds out of the sky. He tried to appear unbothered. “We never talked about anything. I barely knew the guy.”

Jimmy’s intrusion was welcome. “Coffee for the young lady and a pot of tea for his nibs. I’ll be back with your breakfasts in just a tick.”

“I don’t believe you,” she whispered when they were alone again. “Here’s what I think. I think Harry told you about his birth father. Maybe he swore you to secrecy and that’s why you keep warning me off.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” She leaned over the table until they were almost nose-to-nose. He inhaled her scent. Her navy eyes flooded his mind with incoherent thoughts. “You can trust me, Deacon.”

“Robbie, you’ve got it all wrong.” He poured steaming tea into his mug.

“Then explain it to me. Explain why every time I bring up Harry’s name, you change.”

Deacon sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Change? You’ve known me for five minutes. How would you know if I’ve changed or not?”

“I have eyes in my head. You go from being an open, friendly guy to acting secretive and closed off. And since we’re on the subject–I’m a stranger to you, but you put me up for the night? You buy me breakfast, show me around campus? That’s not a thing people do for the sister of a guy they don’t know. Why are you being so nice to me? What’s in it for you?”

He looked away to escape her stare. “There’s nowt in it for me. I like you. That’s all.”

“You like me?”

He met her eyes. He had to know.

“Yes. I like you, Robbie.”

She didn’t speak. He could hear her breathing. The day was brightening outside the cafe windows and early morning students and faculty were beginning to straggle in for tea and one of Jimmy’s famous tattie scones. Voices swirled around him except the one he was living to hear.

“I like you too, Deacon.”

The moment held between them, staring into her eyes, trying to understand what was going on and how to stop whatever it was from happening. Her eyes locked with his and Deacon tried to stop, to think, to come up with a reason why he felt like this with her. There had to be a good reason. She was cute but he never felt like this around other cute girls; like an awkward monosyllabic oaf.

Then she’d smile or look at him like she was now and he was … he was … home .

“I can’t do this for a whole weekend,” he blurted out without thinking.

Her lips parted just slightly and the pupils of her eyes dilated. His cock stiffened and he was never more grateful for the long wool coat he habitually wore than he was in that moment.

“Deacon, is that you?”

He blinked, dragging himself away from her face to look up at Mrs. Cameron, trying to understand where she came from, forgetting that he had asked her to meet them there.