I did want to know. It was an odd sensation sitting next to man of such size and such seeming self-assurance and seeing a certain vulnerability in his body language - in the way he held his head in his hands.
"Yes." I said, simply.
So Darach told me what the blow-up in the courtyard was about. It was about his daughter - and his wife. He told me that he'd married his wife - Diane - shortly after meeting her and getting her pregnant just under five years ago. It had been volatile from the start. When Cameron was born Diane moved from her home in London into Castle McLanald and for a short time it had seemed like maybe they could make it work. But she'd been unhappy there from the beginning and within weeks of Cameron's birth Diane was disappearing for days at a time, coming home hungover and spending thousands of pounds - hundreds of thousands, according to Darach - shopping online for clothing and antique furniture. When she seduced the head gardener, a man whose family had worked for the McLanald's for generations, Darach and his family had recognized it as the final straw it was and told her to leave, without Cameron.
Weeks later a lawyer from London had arrived with divorce papers demanding full custody and fully half of the McLanald fortune. Darach was fighting it but his lawyers had insisted that Diane be given weekend custody in order for the Laird not to be seen as punishing his wife or putting her relationship with Cameron at risk.
I'd heard stories like it before. The very wealthy, male or female, are no better armored against the charms of the beautiful and the manipulative than any of us. Diane was an ex-model with some small amount of fame and she'd even threatened to go to the tabloids with tales of drug use and sexual perversion that had been entirely cooked up in her own head.
I could tell, though, that even as the Laird gave me the story he was still leaving something important out.
"So," I started gently when he paused, "you were upset about Cameron? Why doesn't Cameron want to see her mother?"
Darach suddenly put his head in his hands and took a single deep, shaky breath - the kind you take when you're trying to control your emotions. He coughed, hard, before saying anything more and refused to look at me so I wouldn't see the pain on his face.
"Jennifer, please understand. It's very difficult for me to talk about this. I can barely even talk to my lawyer about it."
I nodded and, without thinking, reached out and put my hand on his back. The fabric of his shirt was cold but almost instantly I could feel the heat of his body - of the muscled curve of his shoulder - underneath. I'd intended the gesture to be comforting but as soon as it happened, as soon as I felt him, it changed into something else. I snatched my hand away just as quickly as I'd reached out, suddenly self-conscious.
"It's OK. I can see how much you love her," I told him, using words instead of touch this time, trying to get across to him that I understood how much he felt for Cameron.
"Diane is awful to her," Darach started, his voice low and controlled, "she takes her anger at me out on Cameron and..." he trailed off, unable to finish.
"Can't the lawyers do something about that? Isn't that abuse?"
Darach shook his head. "Diane is too smart for that. She'd never do anything to Cameron that would make her look bad. All I know is that my daughter is absolutely terrified to go to London and that every weekend I have to wrestle her out of my arms and hand her over to her thoroughly cold-hearted mother and it's killing me, it's driving me mad."
I'd seen Cameron's fear for myself, I'd felt the sobs wracking her tiny body as she begged me not to let her go back to her mother that upcoming weekend. I'd even experienced the anger I was seeing now in Darach, knowing someone was causing Cameron's terror but not knowing, at the time, who it was.
We sat on the train station bench in silence for a little while as the pink light of dawn slowly spread across the sky. Eventually, the Laird spoke:
"Will you come back, Jennifer? Please come back. I haven't seen Cameron this happy for a long time and I promise you I won't lose it like that again - not at you, anyway."
I'd already decided to go back to Castle McLanald, but not just because Darach was sorry. I was going back for Cameron, too - asleep in her bed, possibly tormented by a cruel mother she couldn't escape and pretty much completely defenseless. Of course I was also going back because Darach wanted me to go back and it was already becoming very hard to say no to him. He shouldn't have acted the way he did but I could see his apology was heartfelt. I could also still clearly remember the electricity that had been there when I put my hand on his shoulder, just for that one second. He was so attractive, so dedicated to his daughter and so stupidly sexy. Just give it the summer. Even if nothing happens with the Laird, you can help Cameron come out of her shell. That's what I told myself, anyway. It wasn't a lie but the truth was a little more complicated. I wanted something to happen with Darach - much more than I was willing to admit at the time.